Danielle Steel - Sisters

“Of course. And how are you?” He sounded concerned.

“I don't know,” Tammy said honestly, glancing at Sabrina, who had walked over to be near her. “In shock, I think. We all are. This is pretty tough, and Annie's in bad shape.” She explained what they were planning to do to her in surgery, and he promised to be there within the hour, to offer moral support, if nothing else. It was something at least, and would relieve her father of the horrifying task of identifying his beloved Jane's remains. Tammy couldn't bear to think of her that way, nor could he. She explained to her father that their doctor was coming, and that he would identify Mom for them. After that she could be released to a funeral parlor, but none of them had thought of that yet. They were too stunned by everything that had happened, and too worried about Annie. While Tammy was on the phone, the resident had come to say that Annie was already in surgery, and they'd be starting in a few minutes. He promised to send them reports as soon as they knew anything, but he warned them again that she would be in surgery for many hours.

“Shouldn't I say goodbye to her?” their father said about his wife, when Tammy explained to him that their doctor was coming to identify her, so he didn't have to. Tammy hesitated before she answered her father's question, looking for the right way to say it, and relieve him of guilt at the same time.

“I don't think so, Dad,” she said honestly. “I don't think Mom would want you to remember her that way. You know what she looks like, and how beautiful she was. She wouldn't want you to be that sad,” Tammy said gently, fighting back tears again. They were ever present now.

“You mean I can't hold her again?” His question nearly tore out his daughters' hearts, and the look of anguish in his eyes was even worse. He was a broken man. Only that morning he had been the lively, handsome, youthful father they had always known. And now, suddenly in a matter of hours, he was a frightened, agonized old man. It was horrifying to see.

“You can, Dad,” Sabrina explained, “of course you can, but I think it would be so awful for you, and for Mom. Sometimes we don't get to say goodbye to the people we love most. If she'd gone down in a plane crash, you couldn't hold her either. All that's left now is a shell, not Mom, not Jane. She's gone, Dad. If you need to say goodbye to her, you can. No one's going to stop you. I just don't think it's what Mom would want.” She had devoted a lifetime to making life happy and easier for him—the last thing she would have wanted was to cause him more anguish now.

“Maybe you're right,” he said softly, looking relieved, and a little while later their doctor walked in. He was wonderful with Jim and the girls. He was deeply sympathetic, compassionate, and kind. He handed Sabrina a bottle of Valium and told her to distribute it as needed. He thought her father would benefit from one now and suggested someone take him home. He was in good health, but had always had a mild heart murmur, and he'd been through so much that day. He could see that Candy was a mess too. She had hyperventilated twice since they'd arrived, and said she felt as though she was going to vomit. She felt sick every time she stood up. Sabrina gave each of them a pill with a paper cup full of cold water, and conferred with Tammy quietly as soon as the doctor went downstairs to the morgue to identify Jane. He asked the girls if they had contacted a funeral parlor yet, and they said they hadn't had time. They had come straight to the hospital to see Annie. No calls had been made. Neither of their parents had siblings, and their grandparents were all dead and had been for years. The entire family was at the hospital. All decisions could be made right here, although Sabrina and Tammy were obviously in charge and had the clearest heads, in spite of the fact that both were deeply affected by what had happened. But their father and Candy were falling apart. Tammy and Sabrina weren't, no matter how heartbroken they were.

The doctor had told them what funeral parlor to call, and as soon as he left, Sabrina called them and said they would try to come in the next day to discuss arrangements, but circumstances were difficult, with their sister in critical condition. She just hoped they wouldn't be planning two funerals. One was bad enough, their mother's, which was beyond their worst nightmares and fears. The worst had happened to them. Sabrina refused to think of Annie dying too.

“I think one of us should take them home,” Tammy said to Sabrina as they stood next to the water cooler down the hall from where Candy and their father were sitting. They were both beginning to look a little woozy from the Valium they'd taken, and their father looked like he was going to sleep. It had all been too much for him.

“I don't want to leave you here alone,” Sabrina said, looking worried. “And I want to be here for Annie too. We both should.”

“We can't,” Tammy said practically. If anything, she was pragmatic and had common sense, even in circumstances as awful and emotional as these. And Sabrina was levelheaded too. They looked entirely different, but were sisters to the core, and had a lot of their mother in them. She would have handled this just as they had. Sabrina was aware of it herself. “Neither of them is in any condition to stay here. We've got to get them home to bed. I think you and I have to take turns being here for Annie. There's no point in our being here together, and leaving Dad and Candy alone at home. We can't. They're in terrible shape. And Annie's going to be in surgery for hours. I don't think she'll be out of surgery till nine or ten o'clock tonight.”

“Why don't I get Chris here? He can stay with them tonight so you can come back when Annie's out of surgery. He's good with Dad. He was coming out anyway, for the party.”

“Oh Jesus, we have to call everybody.” The party was only hours away, and they didn't want a hundred people ringing their doorbell. It had to be called off.

“If you take Candy and Dad home,” Sabrina suggested sensibly, “I'll stay here and make the calls. There's nothing else for me to do. I just want to be around if something goes wrong.” Tammy wanted to be there too, but what Sabrina was suggesting made sense.

“Okay. When Chris gets here, he can stay at the house, and I'll come back and sit with you, or you can go home by then if she's okay and out of the woods.”

“I don't think it'll happen that fast,” Sabrina said sadly. “I think we're going to be in the woods for a while.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tammy said, looking devastated. They both were. They just took comfort in action, like their mother. Annie and Candy were more like their father, dreamers, and more high-strung, although Tammy had never thought of her father that way. She had always assumed he was strong, but saw now that he wasn't, and without her mother he was collapsing like a house of cards. The shock was still fresh, but she had somehow expected him to be more solid than he was.

They both walked back to talk to Candy and their father then, and said the doctor thought they should go home and rest. Nothing was going to happen with Annie for many hours, they hoped. So Sabrina explained that Tammy was going to take them home.

“What about the party?” her father asked, looking worried. It had just occurred to him.

“I'll make the calls, Dad.” It was a terrible way of breaking the news to their friends, but the only one they had. “I've got Mom's address book with me.” She showed it to him in her bag, and his eyes filled with tears again as he nodded.

“I don't know where the guest list is,” he said in a hoarse croak, as Candy stared at them, looking stoned. She weighed so little that the Valium had hit her hard. She had taken the same dose as her father, she was nearly as tall, but half his weight. Sabrina had forgotten to adjust the dosage, but she knew Candy had taken them before when she was upset, usually over guys, or some crisis at a shoot.