If only she could talk to Henrietta. For the
last half dozen years, Henrietta had been her sounding board, professionally
and personally, and she hadn’t realized until now just how much she counted on
her. If Winfield was her family, Henrietta was the heart. No wonder they all
felt so lost.
She cut through the crowd as if guided by
radar, reflexively avoiding the slowly ambling groups of early-morning
tourists, the commuters as focused as she on getting to their destinations, the
throngs of street vendors setting up stands, and delivery people pushing
handcarts across the sidewalk laden with cases of beer and boxes of food and
all the other commodities that kept New York running twenty-four hours a day.
When she finally reached St. Luke’s, slightly out of breath but no longer on
the verge of raging, she put Donatella from her mind. Time for all of that
later. Now was only about Henrietta. As she pushed through the double doors
into the bustling lobby, she wished as she hadn’t in a long time that she could
call her mother, just to hear the comforting welcome in her voice and know
there was one place in the world everything would be all right. A wish as
foolish as wanting to undo the past.
She closed her eyes in the elevator, waiting
for the pain to settle into a dull ache in the recesses of her soul, as it
always did. Composed again, she followed the crowd into the hall and turned
right toward the intensive care unit. Out of nowhere, she thought of Derian.
Did her directional dyslexia make something as simple as remembering which way
to turn a challenge? What kind of effort did it take to navigate an
increasingly complex physical world when faced with an inherent block to one’s
place in it? Derian would not want her sympathy, nor did she have any—only
respect for a challenge met and conquered. She had never heard or seen one word
about Derian’s condition, which only spoke to how well she handled it, since
nothing else about her life seemed free from public scrutiny. Emily flushed
with unexpected pleasure, realizing Derian had shared something so private with
her.
She glanced at her watch, not exactly sure
when visiting hours started, but it didn’t really matter. She’d wait.
“Emily?”
Emily peered into the waiting room. “Aud!
Good morning.” Even as she spoke, fear flashed through her. “God, is it
Henrietta? Has something happened?”
Aud, looking stylish and composed, rose
quickly and hurried toward her. “No, no, at least no emergency. But Dere got a
call this morning at breakfast, and the surgeons want to operate right away.
She’s inside. I haven’t heard anything more than that.”