Grave Secret Page 0,33

strange feeling to realize that there was someone I should report to; Tolliver and I are used to being on our own. If we hadn't been in the same urban area, I would never have considered calling Iona about Tolliver's injury. I got to the hospital early, looked into his room to find Tolliver sleeping, and returned to the lobby to use my cell phone. The reception in the lobby wasn't good, so I stepped outside with the smokers. It was a cold, clear day, with a brilliant blue sky.

I checked my watch, felt there was a chance Iona hadn't left for work yet, and called the house. Iona wasn't best pleased to hear from me early in the morning, and she let me know it.

"Tolliver got shot last night," I said, and she was silent.

"Is he all right?" she asked, even now sounding grudging.

"Yes, he's going to make it," I said. "He's in a regular room at God's Mercy Hospital. He had some surgery on his shoulder. He'll be in the hospital for a couple more days, the doctor thinks."

"Well, I don't believe I need to tell the girls right now," Iona said. "Besides, Hank's already taken 'em to school. We'll talk about it when they come home today."

"Suit yourself," I said. "I've got to call Mark." I clicked the phone shut, angry and disappointed. It wasn't that I wanted my little sisters upset and worried, especially after the skating rink incident yesterday-it was that I knew my interaction with them would always be ruled and regulated by the troll squatting across the draw-bridge that led to them. I was being pretty ungrateful to Iona with that comparison. I should be glad every day that she and Hank had had the nerve and grace to undertake the raising of two girls from such a damaging background.

But going through her was such an uphill battle.

For the first time, I thought Tolliver might be right. Maybe we should just butt out of our sisters' lives and send them Christmas presents and cards on their birthdays.

Then Mark answered his phone in a drowsy voice, and I had to chuck aside these bad thoughts and deal with the here and now. Mark had worked late the night before so he wasn't too coherent, but I made sure he got the gist of the story and knew the name of the hospital. He promised he'd come by when he could, probably later in the morning.

Then I had nothing else to do but return to the dreary room and watch Tolliver sleep. Of course I had a book in my purse, and I tried to read for a while, but I kept losing track of the narrative. Finally, I put the book away and simply looked at Tolliver.

Tolliver is seldom sick, and he'd never been hurt this seriously. The bandages and the IV and the gray tone of his skin made him seem almost a stranger, as if someone had crept in and usurped his body. I sat staring at him, willing him to sit up, willing the vigor to return to his body.

That worked as well as you'd expect.

I knew I had to be the strong one now. With my brother down, I had to take care of him, of us. It was good that we'd planned on spending a few days in Texas, because I knew we didn't have any other jobs booked that I should be rescheduling. However, I'd have to check the laptop for new messages. I'd have to take care of everything. I immediately began to worry that I wouldn't do a good job of it, that I'd forget something critical. But what could I forget that would matter so very much? As long as we didn't miss an engagement, as long as I kept gas in the car so we didn't run out, I would be doing a good job.

Finally, Dr. Spradling came in. Tolliver had been moving around a little, so I knew he was about to wake up. Dr. Spradling looked even more tired and old today. He gave me a glance and a nod before approaching Tolliver's bed. He said, "Mr. Lang?" in a penetrating voice. Tolliver's eyes flew open. He looked past the doctor, right at me, and relief relaxed the lines of his mouth.

"You okay, baby?" he said, trying to hold out a hand to me.

I stepped past the doctor, circled the bed to the other side. I took his left hand in both