My Sister's Keeper

Chapter 44

44

SCOTT HAD SEEN how panicked Sydney became when she realized Richard had seen her with him, and it hurt. And it angered him. He had taken her under his wing when another love had gone wrong for her. He'd showed her how to be strong and how to get what you want out of life. He'd built up her confidence and taught her how to set goals and take the necessary steps to achieve them. The way he figured it, she'd have nothing today had it not been for him. He glanced at her. She clutched her purse with one hand and grasped the door handle with the other.

"I told you I've come into some money recently," he said, pausing to let her respond. She didn't. "It's a lot of money, Sydney, and I thought how fantastic it would be for us to just pick up and go. We could go anywhere you'd like—anywhere in the world—and you'd never have to work again."

"I don't want to leave here. I love my work and I love my studio."

"You say that now, but you'll grow tired of it. And in a few more years—"

"No, I will not!"

"Trust me. In a few more years, you're going to hate it. Then you'll be wishing you'd come, but it'll be too late, Sydney. This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer." The car stopped for a red light.

Sydney looked at her watch. "I'm sorry, Scott. I really am. But, I—really, I—can't."

"Why not, Sydney?" He raised his voice. "Why not?"

Sydney turned away from him and faced the side window. She knew if she didn't answer, he'd be more likely to calm down.

"Don't think I don't know what the hell's going on here, Sydney." He banged a fist against the steering wheel, and snorted, "I can't believe you could be that stupid!" Sydney checked the time on her watch. "He's a murderer, Sydney. He rapes young girls and then murders them!"

"No he does not!" In one swift move, Sydney unbuckled her seatbelt, opened the door, and rolled out of the car. "You're his attorney and this is the way you think?" The light turned green and the traffic began moving around her. She slammed the door, cut between cars, and stepped onto the median in the center of the six-lane thoroughfare. Up the road she could see her studio through the haze of tears in her eyes. The parking lot was jammed with cars and she needed to be there. Pulling her purse strap over her shoulder, she watched for a break in the traffic.

"Sydney!" a voice called behind her. She turned and saw the face of Sylvia Whitford, one of her students' moms, staring back at her from the window of a white Dodge Durango. "Get in." Sydney rounded the car amid blasts from horns and jumped in. "Going to the studio?" Sylvia asked, the vehicle rolling forward.

"Yes. Thank you."

"What happened to your head?"

Sydney had held up through the accident, the hospital treatment, seeing the stunned look on Richard's face, and Scott's proposition. But now, as her legs trembled, she placed a hand over her mouth and let the tears go.

"Hey, hey!" Sylvia piped, whipping a tissue from an overhead holder and passing it to Sydney. "You're okay now. You're with me. We're going to the studio."

IT WAS QUARTER PAST TWO when I stepped into Dad's room and stood at the foot of his bed. The room seemed darker than before. His right hand moved around as if searching for something. "What are you looking for, Dad?"

He opened his eyes, but didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. They were weak and cloudy. The light seemed to bother him and he shut them. "Nothing," he uttered. "Just stretching out a little."