“He needs rest.”
“I’ve been gone since this morning.”
“And he has been calmer.”
“I’m his wife.”
“And we are his children.”
“I’m not competing with you.”
“You have been competing with us since the night you carried champagne into that ballroom.”
Her voice cracked at the end.
For one brief second, I saw a frightened daughter about to lose her father.
Then the door opened behind her, and a nurse asked us to lower our voices.
I sat in the hallway for nearly two hours.
When Vivian finally went downstairs, I entered the room.
Harrison looked smaller beneath the white blankets.
I sat beside him and placed my hand over his.
His eyes opened.
“Don’t fight Vivian,” he whispered.
“She won’t let me see you.”
“She is afraid.”
“So am I.”
“I know.”
His fingers tightened weakly around mine.
“Trust me, Claire.”
I leaned closer.
