Danielle Steel - Sisters

“Now that's weird,” her oldest sister commented. “I'm not wearing perfume. I forgot mine in the city.”

“I don't know,” Annie said, yawning. “I just feel you guys, I guess. And Candy's lying across the foot of my bed.” They all laughed at what she said—she had been entirely accurate. “Where's Mom?” she asked, as she had yesterday. She sounded both casual and concerned about it.

“Dad had to go to the bank,” Tammy said, hoping to distract her. She made it sound as though their mother had gone with him, without actually lying to her.

“What did he go to the bank for? Why isn't he at work? What day is this, by the way?” She had been unconscious for days, until the day before.

“It's Wednesday,” Sabrina answered. “Dad took the week off.”

“He did? He never does that.” Annie frowned as she thought about what they'd said. All three girls exchanged a worried look. “You guys are lying to me, aren't you?” she said sadly. “Mom must have gotten hurt, or she'd be here by now. She'd never go with Dad, if she knew I was sick. What happened?” Annie asked them pointedly. “How bad is it?” There was silence in the room for long minutes. They hadn't wanted to tell her about their shocking loss this soon, but she wasn't giving them much slack. She never did. Annie was someone who wanted answers to her questions and to tie up loose ends. She hated it when things were messy in any way. And despite her artistic background, she was meticulous, precise, and direct. “What happened to Mom, you guys? Where is she?” None of them knew what to say, and were afraid to give her too big a shock. “Come on, you're freaking me out.” She started to look extremely anxious, and so did they. It was agonizing, and they hated to tell her now, when she was just beginning to recover herself.

“It was pretty bad, Annie,” Tammy finally said softly, as she approached the bed, so she could stand near her. Instinctively, they all did. And Candy reached across the bed and took her hand. “It was a very ugly accident. There were three cars and a truck.”

“I remember when Mom lost control of the wheel. I looked over and tried to grab it before she went into the oncoming traffic, but when I looked, she was out of the car. I don't know where she went.” Across the lanes into oncoming traffic, but the highway patrol had said that by then she was already dead. She had died on impact, when the steel pipes shot out of the truck and hit her. They had nearly taken off her head, and had missed Annie by only a hair. “I don't remember anything after that though,” she said softly.

“You were trapped in the car, and you got a nasty bump on the head. It took them half an hour to get you out. Thank God they did in time,” Sabrina added to what Tammy had said. They were a tightly knit group that often spoke with one mind, one voice. Their mother had loved calling them the four-headed monster when they were growing up. If you spoke to one, or crossed one, you dealt with all four. And God help you if they felt you had been unjust to one or more. Nothing much had changed. They were just older and calmer, and got worked up less often, but they still stuck together and had similar views about many things, and were quick to defend each other.

“You still haven't told me where Mom is.” They knew that there was no way they were going to be able to avoid her question. She was too insistent, and too wide awake. It was hard to put her off.

“Is she in another room nearby?” Tammy looked at Sabrina and shook her head. They all approached the bed, and each one of them was touching her, her hand, her arm, her face. She could feel them all around her, and their presence was both comforting and ominous. She could sense that something terrible had happened. Her senses were as acute as ever, and her brain was working fine, much to everyone's relief, although in this case it made her harder to ignore.

“She didn't make it, Annie,” Tammy said softly, since she was the closest. “It all happened too fast, and too much happened. She was hit by the steel pipes. She was killed instantly.” Annie gasped. She opened her mouth in terror but no sound came out. And then she began flailing wildly, trying to touch them, and clutched hard at their hands. All three of them were crying again as they watched her, and so was she. They could see their own shock and pain mirrored in hers. But they had had four days to get used to it. To Annie it was raw and fresh.

“Mom died?” she said in a terrified whisper. She would have liked to look at them, and hated the bandages that kept her from it. The doctor said they had to stay on for a few more days. They were taking them off a week early as it was. But this was terrible not being able to see her sisters' faces or eyes if they had lost their mother. She wanted her bandages off, but tugging and clawing at them did nothing. She had already tried, to no avail.

“Yes, she did,” Sabrina answered her awful question. “I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry you had to go through all this.”

“Oh God, that's so awful,” she said as tears slid into the bandages from her eyes, and she could feel them burn, even though her eyes were covered. It just made it worse. She sat and cried for a long time while they held her, like three guardian angels taking care of her. But the sweetest angel of all was gone. Annie just couldn't understand it or absorb it any more than they could. It was the worst thing Annie had ever heard, and the same for her sisters, even after four days. None of them was feeling philosophical about it, although they tried to make their father think they were. “How's Dad doing?” Annie asked finally, worried about him too.

“Not good,” Candy volunteered, “but we're not so great either. I keep falling apart. Sabrina and Tammy took care of everything. They've been so great.” Candy filled her in. Annie had missed so much of what had happened. Everything in fact.

“Did I miss the funeral?” she asked, sounding shocked. She didn't really want to be there, but she felt mildly left out now, knowing that she hadn't. But there had been no other choice. They didn't know when she'd wake up, and they couldn't wait. It would have been too hard for their father, and even for them. They needed to get the agonizing formalities behind them, even without Annie.

“It was yesterday,” Sabrina said. Annie couldn't believe it. Their mother was dead. She couldn't get her mind around the words or the concept. It hadn't been easy for them either. They were still having trouble adjusting, and so would she. Their mother was just too strong a loving presence for them to be able to understand her sudden death, or even able to cope with the aftermath, which so far had been very well handled, by her sisters above all.

“Poor Dad … poor us … poor Mom,” Annie wailed in agony. “What a terrible thing to happen.” It was, even more than she knew. Now it was poor her, even more than their mom. She had lived her life, had died too young, but had lived fully and joyously till the end. It was Annie who was going to have such enormous challenges to meet now, whose suddenly limited life was going to be so hard, who would never again be able to see a painting, or create one, when all her life she had lived for art. It was Annie who had been cheated out of her sight and was still so young. Their hearts ached for her, as much as for their mother.

They stayed with Annie for a long time that afternoon. They didn't want to leave her alone after they had told her the news about their mom. Sometimes they talked about it, sometimes they just sat in silence and held hands, sometimes they cried together, or laughed through their tears at a story one of them remembered and the others had forgotten. As close as they had been before, losing their mother had created an even stronger bond. They were four very different young women with a powerful love for each other and deep respect, which had been a gift to them above all from their mother, but from their father as well. They clung to him and each other, as the remaining powerful symbols of their damaged world.