Clara stared at her, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She wanted to say that Papa would never do such a thing, but she couldn't bring herself to say it.
"He was having an affair at the time," Joan went on. "With Marilyn Monroe. I hired a private investigator to follow him, and the investigator captured the exchange on film. The photo later disappeared, and I wondered if it might somehow have ended up in your scrapbook."
Clara thought about the very clear, close-up photo of her father handing an envelope to a dark-complected young man, whose identity Clara had occasionally wondered about. She merely shrugged and shook her head at her mother's gaze, and let Joan assume she meant no.
The first thing she did on reaching the police station was to request a phone call. She used a pay phone in the foyer and called her father at home. He came on the line immediately.
"Are you all right? Is the line clear?"
"I'm fine. The line's OK, I think. I'm on a pay phone at the police precinct. Pan was holding me - "
"- at the UN lab. I know. His man Johnson sealed off the UN lab to my people. I didn't even know he knew which ones they were, the bastard. We were about to stage and assult. And now they tell me the police have taken you in. What's going on?"
Clara took a deep breath. Here goes, she thought. "Papa, I'm about to turn State's evidence against Pan - "
"You're what?"
"- and the whole Card Shark organization. I'm calling you now to let you know you'd better get out of the country, because I'm not going to hold anything back."
Silence greeted her. After a minute Brandon found his voice. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You never told me Maman was still alive."
"Oh. Oh, honey. I should have told you a long time ago - "
"Yes. You should have."
"- but that's no reason to go off half-cocked like this."
"It's not half-cocked. Pan has the Black Trump - or a version of it - and he has to be stopped. And I've had enough of the lies. You said it yourself. It's not worth it." Tears started rolling down her face. "I know that you've been wanting out. At least a little bit. I'm giving you your chance. Early retirement. Transfer all your funds to an international bank right now and get a plane ticket. Don't delay."
More silence.
"You're sentencing yourself to a lifetime of prison," he said. "Or at best, a lifetime of hiding. Don't do this."
"I don't think so. I think they'll let me cut a deal. I can give them Pan Rudo, and they want him badly. So." She cleared her throat. "Know a good lawyer?"
"Clara, don't do this."
"I love you, Papa."
She slid the phone into the cradle and turned. Several police officers stood near the precinct captain's office, where Joan was speaking to the officer in charge. She drew a breath, squared her shoulders, and walked over.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
She cut the photo of her father with Sirhan Sirhan out of her scrapbook, cut it into tiny bits and burned it, and flushed the ashes down the toilet. Then she went into the bedroom.
The mattress was still on the floor. She buried her face in the pillow, breathing his scent. She rolled onto her side and sensations returned: the taste of his kiss; the feel of his arms enfolding her, hand cupping a breast; his horse's fur warm against her bare buttocks.
Clara rolled onto her back and covered her eyes with the back of an arm, trying to summon the tender look in his eyes when they'a made love, to recall his laughter over shared, cold Chinese food. But all she saw was that look on his face when they'd been torturing him, when he'd realized what she'd done.
What the world thought of her meant nothing. Bradley's opinion meant everything, and there was no way to make him understand. She'd lost him before she'd ever really had him.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
Maggie had started into labor. Finn had been checking her progress, and emerged from her room intent on ordering the incubation unit to the delivery room. Cody was lying in wait.
"Oh, please," said Finn, and tried to dodge her. He wasn't real successful with a cast on his leg and a cane in his hand.
Cody caught him by the tail. He wasn't wearing his rubber shoes, so his hooves were scrabbling for purchase on the slick linoleum floor. He decided neither his dignity nor his tail could survive much more of this, so he craned around to look at her.
"Call her," Cody said. It was the sixth time she'd said it in the past four hours.
"No."
"Stop thinking about yourself, and start thinking about your patient ... patients. That baby needs Clara's attention."
"She left notes," Finn caviled.
"Not the same. Clara knows this case better than either of us."
"I can't face her."
"Finn, I know how hard this is - "
"No, you don't! You can't! You're not one of us. As much as you care, as much as you've given, you're not a wild card, and you're not living under a death sentence." His voice was rising. A couple of passing patients gave him an odd look. Finn dropped to a whisper. "I'm a doctor. I see death all the time. And I'm scared. I don't want to die."
She laid a hand on his hindquarters. Stroked softly. "You've given the warning. It's in the hands of others now. All we can do is live, work, and not give in to despair." She paused, walked around to face Finn, grabbed him by the front of his Hawaiian shirt, and pulled him in close. "And save this baby."
He took the elevator up to Tachyon's old office, his old office, now his office again with Clara's departure. Picked up the phone. Dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.
"Hello, hello.... Oh, it is you."
"Maggie's in labor. We need you."
He hung up the phone before he could hear any more of the pain or the joy in her voice.
♥ ♦ ♣ ♠
At three and a half pounds, Mary Louise was frighteningly small. And she looked so helpless with her eyes squeezed shut, with green tubes in her nose, electrodes on her chest and back, an IV taped to her leg. The heart monitor next to her incubator showed a strong, steady little beat, though. And the transfusions had stabilized her condition. She had an excellent chance.
Clara lifted the incubator's lid, took the infant in her hands, and - careful not to dislodge electrodes, oxygen, or IV - lowered herself into the rocker by the incubator. She unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse, laid Mary Louise on her bare skin, and rocked her. She was so small Clara could hold her in one hand.
Mary Louise whimpered. Clara moved Mary Louise's head into the crook of her neck, and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.
"Poor little thing," she whispered. "You've had a rough beginning, haven't you?"
Joan was at the door, watching her.
"Maman."
"Hi."
Both kept their voices low. Joan slithered over and reared next to the rocker. Clara laid a hand on her mother's arm.
"I remember the first time I held you," Joan said. "I've never known such complete joy."
Clara gave her a smile.
"Have you heard anything about your case?"
"Mitchell says negotiations are going well." Clara shrugged. "We'll have to see."
After a pause Joan asked, "Have you spoken to Bradley?"
Clara shook her head. "He's avoiding me. He doesn't want to see me." She glanced over; Joan was looking at her. She shook her head again.
"I can't face him, Maman. I couldn't bear the look on his face. I couldn't bear his rejection."
Joan sighed. "Clara, darling, for twenty-five years I suffered, for not going to you, for not braving the look on your face."
Clara nuzzled the baby-soft hair and skin of Mary Louise's head and said nothing.
"Don't make the same mistake I did."
Still Clara said nothing.