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Authors: Melissa Good
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accepted it and reviewed the page, then glanced up to catch Mark intently studying her. One of her eyebrows lifted. “Something wrong?”
He hesitated, then gave her a slight shrug. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”
“Earlier I start, earlier Alastair has his answer,” Dar replied.
“Why don’t you take off?”
“I got some sleep in the center,” Mark said. “What about you?”
Dar sighed. “Kerry had to fly up to see her family. Wasn’t much time to sleep.”
Mark nodded. “I saw on the newscast he was sick. Stroke, they said, right?”
“Yeah.”
“That sucks,” Mark said. “I know stuff is all screwed up between her and her family, but it still sucks.” He glanced around.
“Listen, Dar, if you want to head up there, I can try and…”
It was almost funny. Dar rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers and wondered how she had managed to get her entire staff to morph overnight into solicitous nannies. “Mark, get your ass out of here and go figure out how the hell we slipped up by not testing that new release before it got put into production.
Something got missed.” She pinned him with a look. “Now!”
He jumped. “Okay.” One hand lifted. “Okay, I get the message, boss. No problem.” He slid out of the chair and ducked around the door, leaving Dar in peace.
Silence settled for a moment before she pulled her keyboard in front of her and called up the files, glad of the large, flat screen with its crisp display. However, tired as she was, she couldn’t avoid acknowledging the fuzziness of the characters unless she squinted at them, and she admitted to herself that her long deferred trip to the optometrist’s had to be well and truly scheduled.
Damn. Her lips quirked in annoyance. The hell if I want to wear glasses. A scowl appeared as she started up her analysis program.
Or contact lenses.
Hey. She studied the screen for a moment, then tapped it with one long finger. If I only need the blasted things when I look at the monitor… A sly grin crossed her face. Why not just have whatever adjustment I need built into a screen shield?
“Yeah.” Dar felt a little more cheerful. She settled back and reviewed the files. As the screen filled with data, she searched for Thicker Than Water 43
patterns, trying to ignore the growing unease inside her guts.
THE WAITING ROOM for the critical care unit was small and discreet, tucked away behind the medical area and reserved for the families of the patients who were sequestered there. Kerry cradled her cup in her hands, using the coffee’s mottled surface as a concentration point while she thought.
My father is dying.
Kerry felt the styrofoam surface under her fingers dent slightly as she flexed her hands. The interruption of blood supply due to the stroke had hit in the worst place imaginable—the parts of his brain that kept him alive and breathing without assistance from the noisy machines that dominated the space he was in. The machines that were the only thing keeping him alive.
Around her, the family was seated in grim silence. Her mother, breathing in short, sobbing gasps, sat between Kerry and Angie. Michael was on the other side of her, nervously twisting a tri-fold napkin into a thin, tight line. Richard paced back and forth on the far side of the room, where one of her aunts also sat with an uncle. Nobody wanted to talk.
Kerry knew she was the focus of uneasy attention. She’d heard the ugly whispers as they’d left the CCU unit and walked down the hall: how she didn’t belong there, how her father had hated her. How it was her fault—causing the strain he’d been under that finally got to him.
Kerry couldn’t even lie to herself and say it wasn’t true, because she knew at some level it was. She’d come to terms with that in her heart, during that week they’d spent in Key West after the hearings. Come to terms with the fact that she’d done what she’d done for the reasons she’d done it, and
He hesitated, then gave her a slight shrug. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”
“Earlier I start, earlier Alastair has his answer,” Dar replied.
“Why don’t you take off?”
“I got some sleep in the center,” Mark said. “What about you?”
Dar sighed. “Kerry had to fly up to see her family. Wasn’t much time to sleep.”
Mark nodded. “I saw on the newscast he was sick. Stroke, they said, right?”
“Yeah.”
“That sucks,” Mark said. “I know stuff is all screwed up between her and her family, but it still sucks.” He glanced around.
“Listen, Dar, if you want to head up there, I can try and…”
It was almost funny. Dar rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers and wondered how she had managed to get her entire staff to morph overnight into solicitous nannies. “Mark, get your ass out of here and go figure out how the hell we slipped up by not testing that new release before it got put into production.
Something got missed.” She pinned him with a look. “Now!”
He jumped. “Okay.” One hand lifted. “Okay, I get the message, boss. No problem.” He slid out of the chair and ducked around the door, leaving Dar in peace.
Silence settled for a moment before she pulled her keyboard in front of her and called up the files, glad of the large, flat screen with its crisp display. However, tired as she was, she couldn’t avoid acknowledging the fuzziness of the characters unless she squinted at them, and she admitted to herself that her long deferred trip to the optometrist’s had to be well and truly scheduled.
Damn. Her lips quirked in annoyance. The hell if I want to wear glasses. A scowl appeared as she started up her analysis program.
Or contact lenses.
Hey. She studied the screen for a moment, then tapped it with one long finger. If I only need the blasted things when I look at the monitor… A sly grin crossed her face. Why not just have whatever adjustment I need built into a screen shield?
“Yeah.” Dar felt a little more cheerful. She settled back and reviewed the files. As the screen filled with data, she searched for Thicker Than Water 43
patterns, trying to ignore the growing unease inside her guts.
THE WAITING ROOM for the critical care unit was small and discreet, tucked away behind the medical area and reserved for the families of the patients who were sequestered there. Kerry cradled her cup in her hands, using the coffee’s mottled surface as a concentration point while she thought.
My father is dying.
Kerry felt the styrofoam surface under her fingers dent slightly as she flexed her hands. The interruption of blood supply due to the stroke had hit in the worst place imaginable—the parts of his brain that kept him alive and breathing without assistance from the noisy machines that dominated the space he was in. The machines that were the only thing keeping him alive.
Around her, the family was seated in grim silence. Her mother, breathing in short, sobbing gasps, sat between Kerry and Angie. Michael was on the other side of her, nervously twisting a tri-fold napkin into a thin, tight line. Richard paced back and forth on the far side of the room, where one of her aunts also sat with an uncle. Nobody wanted to talk.
Kerry knew she was the focus of uneasy attention. She’d heard the ugly whispers as they’d left the CCU unit and walked down the hall: how she didn’t belong there, how her father had hated her. How it was her fault—causing the strain he’d been under that finally got to him.
Kerry couldn’t even lie to herself and say it wasn’t true, because she knew at some level it was. She’d come to terms with that in her heart, during that week they’d spent in Key West after the hearings. Come to terms with the fact that she’d done what she’d done for the reasons she’d done it, and
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