He raises his glass. “To a perfect day.”
We all drink and Frey offers the next toast. “To family. Those united by blood, and those united by the heart.”
I’m close to tears now—something I’ve managed to avoid all day. But I’m next in the circle around the table and I know just what I want to say. I take Frey’s hand. “To love. And we who are lucky enough to have found it.”
Mom and Trish are side by side, arms linked. They raise their glasses together and Mom says, “To memories. As long as we hold those we love in our hearts, they will always be with us.”
Tears I’ve been holding back want to flow freely now.
And I let them.
CHAPTER 32
“HAPPY?”
Frey’s voice at my ear.
We’re in bed, naked under cool sheets, limbs entangled. My arm is thrown over Frey’s waist, his are around my shoulders. I’m floating in the afterglow of sex and feeding. I raise my head, trace his chin with a finger.
“Never been happier. How about you?”
“After what just happened, you have to ask?”
Light is beginning to filter through the drapes of our bedroom. “It’s almost dawn. Think we should try to get some sleep?”
He takes my hand, slides it down between his thighs. “We only have one honeymoon night. Or morning. I hear that once a couple gets married, they lose interest in sex. If that’s true . . .”
But whatever crazy thing he was about to say is cut short by a gasp of pleasure.
It’s not just my hand that’s found its way between his thighs.
“Azhé’é? Anna? Are you up?”
John-John’s voice and timid knocking on the bedroom door sends me hustling from beneath the sheets and both of us scampering for robes.
Frey lifts an eyebrow and whispers, “Well, I was just about to be.”
I slap his arm and grin, mouthing, Later, as I swing open the door.
John-John scampers inside and jumps up on the bed. “I’m supposed to tell you that breakfast is ready!”
I glance at the clock. “It’s only six. Who told you to come get us?”
A giggle. “David. He said you like to get up real early. And today especially.”
I grab John-John and tickle his stomach until he squeals. “David said that, did he?” I look over his head to Frey. “We’ll get even with him for this.”
Frey grabs one of John-John’s hands, I take the other, and we swing him off the bed. “Well, he’d better have coffee made.” I pump a fist in the air. “Or I’m going to sock him one!”
John-John laughs. “I want to see that.”
And with John-John between us, we head downstairs to start our first day as a family.
I expect to see everyone gathered around the table, David with a wicked grin to let us know he can guess what John-John interrupted.
But instead, it’s just David and Tracey waiting for us in the kitchen. And their expressions are somber, serious.
I look around. “Where’s Mom?”
David leans down to John-John. “Will you please go upstairs and see if Trish is awake?”
John-John’s face mirrors confusion. It’s obvious to even a young kid, David’s mood changed in the minutes he was away. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I’ll tell you when you get back with Trish, all right?”
John-John casts a look at Frey. “Go ahead, Shiye,” Frey says, turning him gently toward the stairs. He, too, catches the undertow in David’s voice. “And get dressed while you’re up there, okay?”
Frey watches his son disappear through the door. “What’s going on, David?”
He asks the question sounding an alarm in my head and gut—the question I couldn’t give voice to myself. Impulsively, I slip my hand into Frey’s, seeking its warmth and comfort.
David’s eyes are on me. “It’s your mother, Anna. Your father has taken her to the hospital.”
The next words he utters register somewhere in the back of my mind—something about not being able to wake her, that when he finally did, she was incoherent. That he called her doctor, bundled her into her robe and brought her right down. That he told David and Tracey what was happening and left driving instructions to the hospital and keys for the extra car in the garage.
“Why didn’t you call for me?” My voice is surprisingly calm and quiet when what I want to do is scream and shake David because he didn’t come and get me.
“There wasn’t time,” David replies. “Your father was gone before I could. But I wrote down the instructions. You and Frey should leave right away. We’ll stay here with Trish and John-John.”
“No. Trish should come along, too.”
David’s expression grows even more solemn. “Your dad asked that you two come alone. At least until the doctors determine what’s happening. You can come back for Trish when you know.”
Frey is nodding. “He’s right. Maybe what happened was caused by exhaustion. Or overexcitement. Something easily treated and we’ll be bringing her home with us.”
“Or maybe it was caused by the wedding.” The words barely clear my throat, it’s so tight and dry. The other possibility I can’t say aloud—but it’s shrieking in my head until I think surely David and Tracey must hear.
Or because the truth of what I told her—what I am—suddenly dawned and she couldn’t face it after all.
“Come on, Anna.” Frey is reading my expression. I can tell he guesses what I am thinking as he steers me toward the stairs. “Don’t jump to conclusions. Let’s get dressed. The sooner we get to the hospital, the quicker we’ll know.”
There’s nothing else to say. Frey and I run back to the bedroom, dress with otherworldly speed, pulling on jeans and tees and little else, aiming to be out the door before Trish and John-John reappear. We have to be. I couldn’t face Trish and tell her she can’t come with us.
David and Tracey are startled by our sudden reappearance, dressed and grabbing for the directions and keys. But they don’t question us, letting us go with promises to take care of the kids.
We find the car in the garage, a little vintage MG. Frey slips on sunglasses, the ones that allow his feline color blindness to be adjusted to human sight, and jumps behind the wheel. I let him drive. I couldn’t trust my shaking hands. He expertly puts the car in gear and we’re screaming down the driveway, my heart pounding so hard, my vision is clouded bloodred.
The directions Dad left for the hospital are clear and easily followed. In ten minutes, we’ve arrived. Frey lets me off at the Emergency Room door and drives away to find a place to park.
The ER is empty, save for an attendant in scrubs behind the admission’s desk. I tell her who I’m looking for. She consults a clipboard and directs me upstairs, the Oncology Critical Care Unit.
The name does not inspire confidence. Still, I make it to the elevator without giving in to the impulse to break down. I can’t be weak now.
I see my father sitting in a chair outside one of the examining rooms. He jumps up when he sees me coming toward him, opens his arms and cradles me the same way he did right after my brother died, crushing me to his chest, holding on as if to a lifeline.
I hug him back, mindful of my strength. So much has changed since I was that seventeen-year-old mourning the loss of her brother. When I feel my father shaking, I question whether I should make it all stop. I have the power to bring Mom back to the family, healthy.
But changed.
Frey’s footsteps echo in the empty hallway. Dad lets me go, steps back. He clears his throat, turning his back to brush at his eyes with the back of his hand.