My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 24

24

SYDNEY GOT ME INTO THE CAR, drove me home, and helped me upstairs. I was bleeding from wounds over practically every inch of the front of my body, but the shotgun shells had been loaded with rock salt instead of lead shot. Although the injuries were not life threatening, they were painful.

The house was still in disarray—"from the visitor," I told her. "If you think this is bad, you ought to see what he did to the back of my head."

As we stumbled into the bathroom, she pushed my hair to the side, pulled off her sunglasses, and examined the lump and stitches. "Richard, you didn't tell me it was this bad."

"You mean you didn't notice it?"

She lowered me onto the side of the tub. "No I didn't. You should have told me."

"You should have seen it Thursday."

She wet a cloth and touched it gently to my face. As she wiped away the blood and cleaned the salt from my wounds, I saw up close how beautiful she was.

"Who'd you say you were dating?" I asked.

"I didn't."

"Is it serious?"

"It used to be."

"So, what does he do?"

She exhaled. "He's an attorney."

An attorney? All my hopes vaporized and the energy in my body receded as she rinsed the cloth and wiped it over my face and neck once more. "Thanks," I whispered. "If you'll let me get a shower and change clothes, I'll take you back to your car."

"Are you sure you can do this?"

"I've been doing it since I was five."

"You know what I mean."

I smiled. "Yes. I'm okay."

Touching her hand to my face, Sydney started to say something, changed her mind, turned, and left me alone. Again I stripped off a set of clothes that I dropped into a pile to throw away. With a hot shower and clean clothes, I felt better. Leaving the bathroom, I saw that Sydney had straightened up the bedroom and made the bed. As I came down the stairs she was busy wiping down the island countertop. Behind her, a clean pile of dishes rested on a drying towel next to the sink.

"Thanks," I said. "You shouldn't have done that."

"I didn't have anything else to do."

"Would you like something to drink or eat?"

She folded the cloth and set it neatly next to the sink. "I'd better be going."

"But you haven't finished. Look." I pointed to the pillows thrown around the den. "There's another whole room to go."

Her fingers whisked aside loose sprigs of hair hanging in her face. "It'll have to wait until the next time you get shot."

That struck me as incredibly funny—belly-laugh funny—and laughter spilled out of me. She laughed too and although it hurt my head, it felt so good to just let loose and laugh at something silly. It had been such a long time since I'd laughed like that.

"That's a deal," I replied when I'd finally regained enough control to speak. "I'll try to get shot again first thing tomorrow morning." The laughter started all over again and it made her blue eyes twinkle. But the way I studied her must have made her uncomfortable somehow and when she turned away and rinsed the cloth again, it struck me that Sydney was no ordinary woman. She had a full life and more than her share of responsibilities and deserved someone like a lawyer. Certainly not me. Yet she seemed to need something.

I took her hand, gently pulled her to me, and put my arms around her.

"Thanks, Sydney," I whispered.

"For what?"

"For all you've done to help me today. For believing in me." Slowly, she relaxed, laid her cheek against my shoulder, and placed her arms around me. "You've really done well for yourself, Sydney, and—thanks for such an incredible day."

Her warmth seeped into my clothes and a strange force encompassed us. My insides trembled and for a few minutes the world stood still. It was exhilarating. Then she whispered, "I think we'd better go."

A minute later, we were in my car heading back to hers. We hardly talked at first, then she asked if I was involved with anyone.

"No. Haven't been in a long time."

"Have you ever been married?"

"Almost."

"What happened?"

"I wish I knew. I've been trying to figure that out for years."

The drive across town seemed to take no time at all. I pulled into the parking lot where she'd left her vehicle, parked next to it, and turned the engine off. "Thanks for going with me, Sydney, and for patching me up and cleaning the house and...everything."

"It's been a very interesting day," she said searching her purse for her keys.

"Yes, it has and I've thoroughly enjoyed it. Well, most of it."

She laughed and looked at me. I didn't want her to go. I felt as if I'd found something that I'd misplaced years ago—something that rightfully belonged to me. I wanted to spend the rest of the day with her—maybe even the rest of my life, but I knew in my heart I'd never be able to have her. She was too special, too unique to fall for someone like me. She had this other thing going with the lawyer and I didn't want to interfere. I got out, circled the car, and opened the door for her.

She stepped out, pressed the button to unlock her van, and placed her purse inside. When she turned back to face me, I leaned to kiss her, but she turned her head away.

Damn! How could I have been so stupid?

I stepped back. "I'm sorry, I—"

"It's okay. I'm just..." She left the sentence unfinished, exhaled, got in the van, and cranked the engine. I pushed her door closed and stepped away from the van regretting the way the day was ending.

She rolled the window down. "Be careful tomorrow."

I nodded. "Thanks. I'll be fine."

For a brief moment our eyes locked and I felt a surge of something. Was that hope? Or was it pity? She clicked her seatbelt in place, shifted the vehicle into "reverse," and backed away.