Danielle Steel - Full circle

“Why not?” Now she sounded like the child.

“I don't want to leave Harry now.”

“How can he mean that much to you … ?” more than I do.…

“He just does. Aren't you spending Christmas with Arthur anyway, or at least part of it?” Tana blew her nose and wiped her eyes, but Jean shook her head at her end.

“Not this year, Tan. He's going to Palm Beach with the kids.”

“And he didn't invite you?” Tana sounded shocked. He was really the consummate selfish son of a bitch, second only to Harry's dad, perhaps.

“It would be awkward for him.”

“Why? His wife's been dead for eight years, and you're no secret anymore. Why couldn't he invite you?”

“It doesn't matter. I have work to do here anyway.”

“Yeah,” it drove her nuts thinking about her mother's subservience and devotion to him, “work for him. Why don't you just tell him to jump in the lake one of these days, Mom? You're forty-five years old, you could still find someone else, and no one could treat you worse than Arthur does.”

“Tana, that's not true!” She was instantly outraged.

“No? Then how come you're spending Christmas alone?”

Jean's tongue was quick and sharp. “Because my daughter won't come home.”

Tana wanted to hang up in her face. “Don't lay that trip on me, Mom.”

“Don't talk to me like that. And it's true, isn't it? You want him around so there isn't any responsibility on you. Well, it doesn't always work like that. You may not choose to come home, but you can't pretend it's the right thing to do.”

“I'm in law school, Mom. I'm twenty-two years old. I'm grown up. I can't be there for you all the time anymore.”

“Well, neither can he. And his responsibilities are far more important than yours.” She was crying softly now and Tana shook her head. Her voice was calm when she spoke again.

“He's the one you should be mad at, Mom, not me. I'm sorry I can't be there for you, but I just can't.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don't. And I'm sorry about that, too.”

Jean sighed into the phone. “I guess there's nothing we can do about it now. And I suppose you are doing the right thing.” She sniffed, “But please, sweetheart, don't spend all your time at the hospital. It's too depressing, and you can't do the boy any good. He'll pull out of it on his own.” Her attitude made Tana sick, but she didn't say anything to her.

“Sure, Mom.” They each had their own ideas, and neither of them was going to change anymore. It was hopeless now. They had gone their own ways, and Jean knew it too. She thought of how lucky Arthur was to still have his children around so much of the time. Ann always wanted his help, financially and otherwise, and her husband practically kissed Arthur's feet, and even Billy was living at home. It was wonderful for him, she thought as she hung up. It meant he never really had enough time for her. Between his business obligations, his old friends who had been too close to Marie to accept Jean, according to him anyway, and Billy and Ann, there was scarcely ever any time for her. And yet, there was still something so special between them, and she knew there always would be.

It was worth all the hours she spent alone, waiting for him. At least that was what she told herself, as she straightened her desk and went home to her apartment to stare into Tana's empty room. It looked so painfully neat, so empty and deserted now. So unlike the room she was living in, in Berkeley, where her things were spread all over the floor, as she rapidly gathered her things, desperate to get back to Harry again. She had called the hospital after she and her mother hung up, and they said his fever was up again. He was asleep, and he had just had a shot, but she wanted to get back to him before he woke up again. And as she pulled a comb through her hair, and climbed into her jeans, she thought of the things her mother had said. It was unfair of Jean to blame her loneliness on her. What right did she have to expect Tana to always be there for her? It was her mother's way of absolving Arthur of his responsibilities. For sixteen years she had made excuses for him, to Tana, to herself, to her friends, to the girls at work. How many excuses could one make for the man?

Tana grabbed her jacket off a hook and ran downstairs. It took her half an hour to cross the Bay Bridge on the bus, and another twenty minutes to get to Letterman, peacefully nestled in the Presidio. The traffic was worse than it had been in the past few days, but it was the morning of Christmas Eve, and she had expected it. She tried not to think of her mother as she got off the bus. She could take care of herself at least, better than Harry could right now. That was all she could think about as she went up to his room on the third floor and walked softly inside. He was still asleep, and the curtains were drawn. It was a brilliantly sunny winter day outside, but none of the bright light and cheer entered here. Everything was darkness and silence and gloom. She slipped quietly into a chair next to the bed, and watched his face. He was deep in a heavy, drugged sleep, and he didn't stir for the next two hours, and finally just to move around a little bit, she walked out into the hall, and wandered up and down, trying not to look into rooms, or see the hideous machinery everywhere, the stricken faces of parents coming to see their sons, or what was left of them, the bandages, the half faces, severed limbs. It was almost more than she could stand, and she reached the end of the hall, and took a deep breath, as suddenly she saw a man who literally took her breath away. He was the tallest, most handsome man she had ever seen. Tall, dark-haired, with brilliant blue eyes, a deep tan, broad shoulders, long, almost endless legs, an impeccably cut dark blue suit, and a camel's hair coat tossed over his arm. His shirt was so perfect and creamy white that it looked like something in an ad. Everything about him was beautiful and immaculate and magnificently groomed. He wore a crest ring on his left hand, and a troubled look in his eyes, and he stood watching her for a fraction of an instant, just as she stood watching him.

“Do you know where the neurosurgical area is?” She nodded, feeling childlike and stupid at first, and then shyly smiled at him.

“Yes, it's down this hall.” She pointed in the direction she had come, and he smiled, but only with his mouth, not with his eyes. There was something desperately sad about the man, as though he had just lost the one thing he cared about, and he had, or almost.

But Tana found herself wondering why he was there. He looked about fifty years old, although he seemed youthful for his age and he was certainly the most striking man she had ever seen. The dark hair peppered with gray made him look even more handsome as he walked swiftly past her and down the hall, and she followed slowly back the way she had come, and saw him turn left in the direction of the nurse' station that they were all so dependent on. Her thoughts turned back to Harry then, and she realized that she had better get back. She hadn't been gone long, but he might have woken up, and there were a lot of things she wanted to say to him, things she had thought about all night, ideas that she had about what they could do now. She had meant what she'd said, she wasn't going to just let him lie on his ass. He had his whole life ahead of him. Two of the nurses smiled at her as she walked past where they stood, and she walked on tiptoe into Harry's room. The room was still dim, and the sun was going down outside anyway, and she instantly saw that Harry was awake. He looked groggy, but he recognized her, and he didn't smile. Their eyes met and held, and she felt suddenly strange as she entered the room, as though something was wrong, something more than had been wrong before, as though that could even be. Her eyes swept the room as though searching for a clue, and she found him standing there, in a corner, looking grim, the handsome man with the gray hair, in the dark blue suit, and she almost jumped. It had never occurred to her … and now suddenly she knew … Harrison Winslow III … Harry's father … he had finally come.