dedicated nursing director, Amy Musgrave. Dimitri felt much more like an ally, but in their life together, he had hardly proven to be reliable. Perhaps Dan, she thought, as she headed through the glassed walkway into the Sperelakis Building.
Throughout the evening, Thea had remained in the ICU except for two breaks—one at eight to wander the wards, and one at eleven thirty through the tunnels to the cafeteria, largely in hopes that she might run into Dan if he happened to be working more than one shift.
Visitors to her father's bedside had included the twins, and later, briefly, Sharon Karsten and Scott Hartnett. Thea didn't mention the mounting evidence that Petros had locked-in syndrome, and Hartnett made no reference to their earlier attempts to get him to respond.
Selene and Niko arrived separately, but at almost the same time. It wasn't surprising that they seemed to function almost as one. They had, after all, been together since they were each a single cell. Nevertheless, Thea had always found their intense connection a little unsettling. Dimitri, as expected, was more vocal and direct about the twins, who both went to the Rivers School, then Harvard College, and finally Harvard Med. He referred to them, at various times, as Tweedledee and Tweedledum, the Dynamic Duo, the Twinkies, and the Twofers.
The fifteen or twenty minutes that the twins were in the ICU with Thea were subdued and somewhat strained. It was as if they felt that she had closed the window for putting the matter of Professor Petros Sperelakis forever to rest, and now they were all in it for the long haul. Thea found herself wondering how much they knew of what Karsten had told her about the size and apportionment of Petros's estate.
'Good evening.'
Completely lost in thought, Thea had nearly passed the doorway of Room 412 when the occupant startled her. The woman was reading in a chair placed just inside the door. An IV was running into her left forearm, draining both saline and, piggybacked through a large-bore needle into the rubber infusion port, a drug that had a yellowish cast. She was forty-five or fifty, Thea guessed, and nothing—not her tortoiseshell glasses or the black fabric elastic holding back her auburn hair; not her plain, quilted robe or the lack of any makeup— could hide the fact that she was a strikingly attractive woman. Her eyes, even through her glasses, were bright and intelligent.
Beyond where the woman sat, Thea could see books piled on the bedside table and also on the mantel of the faux fireplace that decorated every room in the institute. Laid on the throw across her lap was the book she was reading at the moment—Gabriel Garcia Marquez's intense romance, Love in the Time of Cholera.
'I loved that book,' Thea said, not bothering to mention that she had read it twice in the same week. 'It was one of the first intellectual romances I had read, and it opened the door to my reading many more.'
'Which is more important, being in love or—'
'Suffering for love,' Thea excitedly joined in.
The woman with the IV beamed. 'Yes, exactly. Personally, I believe that every day you can make it through without suffering is another day you made it through without suffering.'
'My brother Dimitri used to have a poster of a blubbery man sitting on top of a beer keg. Underneath the photo was printed: 'no pain, no pain.''
'Exactly.'
Thea added the woman's laugh to things she liked about her.
'So where are you right now in the story?' Thea asked.
'Well, Juventus is dead after falling off the porch. Fermina hates Florentino, but I think she's going to end up with him. Don't tell me, though.' I promise.
'It looked like you were lost in thought. Sorry if I interrupted.
You passed by here late last night, then again earlier this evening. I started feeling like we were becoming friends, so I thought I'd say hello. My name's Hayley. Hayley Long.'
'Pleased to meet you, Hayley,' Thea replied precisely as she had done in countless
Throughout the evening, Thea had remained in the ICU except for two breaks—one at eight to wander the wards, and one at eleven thirty through the tunnels to the cafeteria, largely in hopes that she might run into Dan if he happened to be working more than one shift.
Visitors to her father's bedside had included the twins, and later, briefly, Sharon Karsten and Scott Hartnett. Thea didn't mention the mounting evidence that Petros had locked-in syndrome, and Hartnett made no reference to their earlier attempts to get him to respond.
Selene and Niko arrived separately, but at almost the same time. It wasn't surprising that they seemed to function almost as one. They had, after all, been together since they were each a single cell. Nevertheless, Thea had always found their intense connection a little unsettling. Dimitri, as expected, was more vocal and direct about the twins, who both went to the Rivers School, then Harvard College, and finally Harvard Med. He referred to them, at various times, as Tweedledee and Tweedledum, the Dynamic Duo, the Twinkies, and the Twofers.
The fifteen or twenty minutes that the twins were in the ICU with Thea were subdued and somewhat strained. It was as if they felt that she had closed the window for putting the matter of Professor Petros Sperelakis forever to rest, and now they were all in it for the long haul. Thea found herself wondering how much they knew of what Karsten had told her about the size and apportionment of Petros's estate.
'Good evening.'
Completely lost in thought, Thea had nearly passed the doorway of Room 412 when the occupant startled her. The woman was reading in a chair placed just inside the door. An IV was running into her left forearm, draining both saline and, piggybacked through a large-bore needle into the rubber infusion port, a drug that had a yellowish cast. She was forty-five or fifty, Thea guessed, and nothing—not her tortoiseshell glasses or the black fabric elastic holding back her auburn hair; not her plain, quilted robe or the lack of any makeup— could hide the fact that she was a strikingly attractive woman. Her eyes, even through her glasses, were bright and intelligent.
Beyond where the woman sat, Thea could see books piled on the bedside table and also on the mantel of the faux fireplace that decorated every room in the institute. Laid on the throw across her lap was the book she was reading at the moment—Gabriel Garcia Marquez's intense romance, Love in the Time of Cholera.
'I loved that book,' Thea said, not bothering to mention that she had read it twice in the same week. 'It was one of the first intellectual romances I had read, and it opened the door to my reading many more.'
'Which is more important, being in love or—'
'Suffering for love,' Thea excitedly joined in.
The woman with the IV beamed. 'Yes, exactly. Personally, I believe that every day you can make it through without suffering is another day you made it through without suffering.'
'My brother Dimitri used to have a poster of a blubbery man sitting on top of a beer keg. Underneath the photo was printed: 'no pain, no pain.''
'Exactly.'
Thea added the woman's laugh to things she liked about her.
'So where are you right now in the story?' Thea asked.
'Well, Juventus is dead after falling off the porch. Fermina hates Florentino, but I think she's going to end up with him. Don't tell me, though.' I promise.
'It looked like you were lost in thought. Sorry if I interrupted.
You passed by here late last night, then again earlier this evening. I started feeling like we were becoming friends, so I thought I'd say hello. My name's Hayley. Hayley Long.'
'Pleased to meet you, Hayley,' Thea replied precisely as she had done in countless
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