Assassins: Slow Agony Part 27

"Oh, right," he said. "Daycare." He turned to me. "We can totally do this."

"Watch the road, Griffin." But I was smiling.

He faced forward. "Don't you think we can?"

"Yeah," I said. "I do. I want to. I wasn't sure if you did."

"I'm just having trouble thinking about it," he said. "I keep worrying about Marcel."

"I know."

"But we could do it," he said. "We could both keep going to school, and we could take care of a baby at the same time. And it would be kind of cool."

I laughed again. "You think?"

"Why are you laughing at me?"

"I don't know." I was still laughing. "It's like it's the first time you've ever contemplated having a baby."

"It is."

"What? How can that be true? You were so angry about the abortion."

"Well, I didn't really think about it that way," he said. "I didn't think about the day-to-day activities I would have had if you'd kept the baby. I thought of it more... I don't know, in the abstract."

"I don't believe you," I said. "I really don't."

"It was more like I thought about the things I would miss, like teaching the kid how to shoot or-"

"Shoot? Like a gun? I so don't think so."

"What? Any kid of mine is going to learn his way around a gun. It's basic safety."

"There's nothing safe about letting kids play with guns!"

"Not little kids," he said. "Like when they're older, you know."

"Like how old?"

"I don't know. Seven?"

"Thirteen," I said.

"Ten?" he said.

I narrowed my eyes. "We'll see."

His hand snaked across the car to rub my knee. "See, you're good at this already. You're already thinking of how to keep our children safe."

"Am I good at it?" I wasn't sure. "Maybe the test will be negative."

"Sure," he said. "I mean, that would probably be better all around."

"Right," I said.

"Because we're just getting back together, and we're on the run and in danger, and it's just not the ideal time to be starting a family."

"Right," I said. But for some reason, hearing him say that was... disappointing.

We rounded the corner to the street that the house was on, only to be greeted by the flas.h.i.+ng lights of an ambulance. I sat up straight. "Griffin, is it parked in your driveway?"

"G.o.ddammit," he said. "I never should have left."

"Wait, can't one of us go in the ambulance with her?" Christa was saying to the EMT outside. They'd just loaded Beverly inside on a stretcher. She was unconscious. She'd been shot.

"Sorry," said the EMT. "You'll all have to meet her at the hospital."

"But on the movies-"

"Those are the movies," said the EMT.

Christa turned to us, looking scared and sad.

"Come on," said Griffin. "Get in the car." He put his arm around his sister and led her to the pa.s.senger side.

I got in the back seat. "What happened?"

"She was in the kitchen," said Christa. "The bullet came through the window. She yelled. And then she was lying on her back, and she was bleeding." Tears leaked out of her eyes.

Griffin started the car. "Why didn't you call my phone?"

The ambulance was pulling out of the driveway. Griffin pulled our car out after it.

"I didn't know your number anymore. The old number only rang and rang," said Christa. "It was that man, wasn't it? The one who threatened you? He wasn't playing around after all."

"It probably was," said Griffin.

"I should have listened to you," she said. "I thought it was all some big joke, and I didn't take it seriously. And now, Ma's..."

"Your mother's going to be fine," I said, reaching up and grabbing her hand.

"You can't know that." Her voice was choked with tears.

"We have to believe it, though," I said. "That's what she needs. She needs us to be positive."

"So you called an ambulance," said Griffin.

"I had to," said Christa.

"And now we're going to have to explain what's going on," he said.

She turned to him in shock. "This is our mother. Are you saying I should have let her die?"

"No, but I can't explain this to the authorities."

"You don't have to," I said. "We tell them she was shot through a window for no reason. The truth. Honestly, Griffin, is now the time to worry about that?"

He clenched his teeth. "This is my fault. This is all my fault. I should have kept you safe. I should never have let you go upstairs."

I put my hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off.

Griffin came back into the waiting room. "She's out of surgery, but she isn't awake. They got the bullet out of her, and they repaired her lung. You can go back if you want."

They only let two people in the room at a time, so Griffin and Christa had been in there. I shook my head. "I don't need to see her if she's asleep. Unless you think Christa would want me there?"

Griffin nodded.

I patted him on the back and left the waiting room. To get into intensive care, I had to hit a b.u.t.ton and be buzzed through by the nurse on duty. I did that and waited until the doors swung open. Then I walked down the hall to Beverly's room.

Christa was standing next to the bed, her nose and eyes red. She was holding her mother's hand. Beverly had tubes in her nose. She was sleeping with her mouth open, and-for some reason-she looked so frail lying there. Like I hadn't realized how tiny she was before. How easily broken.

Christa looked up at me. "Hey."

I put my arm around her. "She's gonna make it. She's strong." But she didn't look strong right now.

"You really think so?"

"Yes," I said, putting more confidence into my tone than I actually felt.

She laid her head on my shoulder. "I'm so glad you're here, Leigh."

I held onto her as tightly as I could.

Christa didn't want to leave her mom, so I ended up going back to find Griffin on my own. He was still in the waiting room, but he was clutching his phone and pacing.

Oh G.o.d. Had Marcel called him again?

He saw me come in. He turned away. "f.u.c.k you," he whispered to the phone. And then he ripped it away from his ear.

I went to him, putting my hand on his back. "Griffin? Was that Marcel?"

"Yes," he said, his voice strangled. "He was taunting me. He says I can't watch everyone, and that I can't keep everyone safe. He's right."

"We need to call the twins," I said.

"How will that help anything?" said Griffin. "We don't know where Marcel is. They'd only be two more walking targets. And they don't deserve to be hurt anymore because of me."

"They might have ideas on how to help. We can't do this on our own."

Griffin threw himself down in one of the waiting room chairs. "No."

"We have to do something."

He closed his eyes. "How's my mother?"

I sighed. I sat down next to him. "The same."

He rubbed the top of his head. "This is my fault."

"No, it's not," I said. "It's Marcel's fault. He's doing this, not you."

"And Christa?"

"She'll be okay. She didn't want to leave in case your mom woke up, and there's a chair for her in there, so I thought it was okay if she stayed."

He nodded. "Well, that's all right, then."

I took his hand. "It's going to be all right. It isn't yet, but it will be."

"How can you say that? Everything is f.u.c.ked right now."

I shrugged. "It's, um, what you have to say to yourself when things get this bad. Because thinking too much about it going the other way only makes it worse, and it's bad enough without that."

He raised his eyebrows. "Never would have pinned you as an optimist, doll."

"Glad I can still surprise you." I kissed his cheek, his jawbone.

"Speaking of surprises," he said, "you didn't take the pregnancy test."

"Well, it's hardly the time to do it."

"I need to know," he said. "Don't you want to know?"

"Well, yeah, but with your mother still recovering, and-"

"Doll, it's important," he said. "Where is it?"

I thought about it. "I guess it's still in the car." Another realization dawned. "Oh G.o.d, I guess half of the groceries we bought are ruined."

He got up. "I'll go get the test."