Quinn murmured a few sentences of empathy, telling Allison it wasn't her fault, then extricated himself and headed to Sierra's room. He didn't know what he would do once he got there. Quinn hated hospitals, and he wasn't good at providing comfort. Still, he had to see Sierra and be with Annie.
He gently pushed the door open and stopped just inside the threshold. Sierra was lying on the bed, eyes closed, a breathing tube in her nose and IV lines attached to her body. Annie was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, keeping one eye on the door.
Annie forced a thin smile when she saw Quinn and rose to greet him. She looked shell-shocked, like someone who had just escaped a battlefield littered with land mines and dead bodies. "I can't believe this," she whispered.
She took Quinn's hand and led him into the hall. She crossed her arms and spoke in a subdued tone, as if Sierra might wake up at any moment and overhear them. "The doctors said she's going to be okay. They think it's a cry for help. Girls this age who really want to take their life don't take a bunch of sleeping pills at home in the evening knowing that they'll be discovered right away." Annie stopped, working hard to keep her emotions under control. Quinn reached out to rub her shoulder.
"It's not a coincidence that she did this the night before my plea," Annie said. "Three years without a mother is an eternity when you're thirteen." She paused, measuring her words with care. "Plus, to have a mother who admits being a murderer…"
"That's not what this is about," Quinn said softly. "Sierra knows what really happened. A plea bargain doesn't change that."
But Annie was apparently in no mood to discuss it. "I want to call off the plea bargain," she said firmly. "This changes everything."
Quinn wasn't sure his sister was thinking clearly. Her harrowed face showed the strains of a mom's worst nightmare. She was reacting out of emotion.
"I'll call Carla Duncan," Quinn said. "We can postpone the hearing for a week or two, give us a chance to regroup and decide what to do."
Annie had been staring at the floor, but now locked her eyes on Quinn, the big sister coming back. "I don't want a postponement; I want to withdraw the plea. And, Quinn, she can't stay with the Schlesingers. They don't have a clue."
On this point, Quinn knew Annie was right. Sierra felt smothered there; she had said as much to Quinn. "What are you suggesting?"
Annie lowered her voice. "If Sierra can't live with me, it might be better if she could stay with you."
Quinn started to object, pointing out that the court wouldn't allow it, but it seemed his sister could always read his mind.
"Even if it means I have to stay in jail without bail until the retrial," she added.
Part of Quinn wanted this. But the other part, the logical Quinn, could think of a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea, though Annie's desperate look vaporized most of them. "We'll talk about it," he said. "Right now, let's just focus on getting Sierra the help she needs."
" You are the help she needs," said Annie.
"I'll call Carla Duncan," said Quinn. "We'll take it from there."
Quinn's misgivings disappeared a few minutes later when he and Annie returned to Sierra's room. The girl looked younger than thirteen, frail and vulnerable, her hair spilling in a tangled web onto the pillow.
Physically, she would recover. But her brittle psyche had been shattered by the overwhelming events of the past few months. Quinn knew the feeling from his own troubled childhood. He had blamed himself for most of the events that spun wildly beyond his control, devastating those he loved most.
They could not lose the next generation. Quinn reached out and touched Sierra gently on the arm, surprised by the coolness of her skin. Instinctively, he wrapped his fingers around her slender forearm, feeling the thin bones. In that moment he had his answer. He would do whatever needed to be done.
Quinn looked at his sister, tears brimming her eyes. "I hope she knows how to cook," Quinn said.
57
Quinn headed straight for the hospital the next morning, calling Melanie along the way so he could tell her to reschedule the day's appointments. He had called Carla Duncan the night before, and she had agreed to reschedule the plea hearing. "I'll give the judge some vague reason," she assured Quinn. "I'll do my best to keep this out of the press."
When Quinn told her that Annie might change her mind about the deal, Carla was not happy. "If you reject it now, you can't come back on the eve of trial," she warned. "I worked hard to get this deal approved. Don't leave me flailing in the wind."
Quinn thanked her for her efforts but explained that Sierra's suicide attempt had changed things. "We'll let you know one way or the other next week," he said.
Because he had already put the prosecutor in a sour mood, Quinn decided this wasn't the best time to talk about a possible change in Sierra's custody. Given the circumstances, he decided he would employ a vintage Quinn Newberg strategy-act first and seek forgiveness later.
At the hospital, Quinn felt a queasiness develop in his gut. What could he say to a thirteen-year-old girl who'd just attempted suicide?
He rode the elevator to the third floor and shuffled slowly toward Sierra's room. Last night, fueled by adrenaline and remorse, he had practically run into the room. Now, knowing that Sierra would be awake, he took his time, procrastinating the awkward moment as long as possible.
"Hey," Sierra said when she saw Quinn step inside the door. The tubes and IV had been removed, and Sierra had brushed her hair. She looked tired but peaceful.
"Hey," Quinn said. He walked to her bedside. Annie was fast asleep in a reclining chair in the corner, her mouth open. A TV hanging from the wall at the foot of Sierra's bed featured an MTV reality show.
"Mom fell asleep about an hour ago," Sierra said. "I tried to get her to go home."
"She's stubborn," Quinn whispered. He wondered if he should bring up last night. What was the protocol? So, Sierra, you had any death wishes this morning?
"You feeling okay?" Quinn asked.
She nodded and looked away. "My stomach hurts. Plus, my throat's raw where they jammed that tube down."
"You scared us," Quinn said.
"I know, Uncle Quinn. I'm sorry."
Her voice was so frail that Quinn decided not to push it. "You hungry?"
"They already made me eat."
This was so awkward. What do I talk about? Where are the points of connection?
A long minute passed. "What are you watching?" Quinn asked.
"MTV."
No kidding. "Did they say if you could go home today?"
"You mean to the Schlesingers'?"
"Yeah."
"I think so. Mom talked to the doctor, but she didn't really say if I could or not." Sienna hesitated then turned her pleading eyes on Quinn. "I don't like it there, Uncle Quinn."
"We'll work something out," Quinn said. "I promise."
He stayed for a few more minutes, awkwardly trying to jump-start a conversation while both of them avoided talking about the night before.
Finally he had an idea. "What's your favorite movie?" he asked.
"I don't know. Maybe Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. I like Johnny Depp."
"You want to watch it?"
Sierra looked skeptical. "How?"
"Give me an hour."
Fifty minutes later, Quinn was back. He brought his laptop and DVDs of all three Pirates movies, just to make sure he had the right one. Annie was awake this time, and Quinn made her go home and take a shower. He pulled a stiff wooden chair next to Sierra's bed, put his laptop on her tray table, and popped in the third Pirates movie.