Читать книгу Soul Caress - Kim Shaw - Страница 5

Kennedy’s parents, Dr. and Mrs. Joseph Daniels, along with her sister, Madison, arrived at the hospital late in the morning following the accident. They imperiously descended upon the intensive care unit and demanded the full attention of the hospital staff. Joseph Daniels quietly, yet firmly requested that the doctors treating his daughter be paged and sequestered for a meeting at once. His wife of thirty years, Elmira Ellington Daniels, stood by his side, apparently used to watching her husband take command.

“Oh, dear Jesus,” Elmira bellowed upon seeing Kennedy as they entered her room.

Elmira crumpled against the stout frame of her husband. Kennedy was stirred awake by the unmistakable sound of her mother’s smoky voice. She turned her head in the direction of the noise and immediately felt the smooth, beefy hands of her father wrap themselves around one of hers.

“Elmira, calm down. She’s going to be fine,” he said reassuringly. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

“Yes, Dad,” Kennedy croaked, her throat still hoarse and hurting.

Suddenly, Elmira was overcome with sobs and, without the ability to see her mother, Kennedy was sure she was dramatically fanning herself to ward off one of her infamous fainting spells. Right on cue, Joseph issued a familiar phrase.

“Elmira, you don’t look very well. Why don’t you go outside for a while? Have yourself a cup of coffee or tea,” he added. “I saw a café right near the security desk in the lobby.”

Kennedy was used to scenes such as this one, but for once she was just not up to playing her part in it. Joseph and Elmira had a perfunctory marriage in which the pampered Elmira was shielded from any discomfort or uneasiness. Kennedy had fallen into the habit of echoing Joseph’s sentiments in many instances. This was not one of them.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Elmira said in a reluctant tone that was worthy of an Oscar award.

Elmira rose from her perch at the side of Kennedy’s bed. She smoothed the front of her brown tweed flare-legged pants. At fifty-two years old, Elmira Daniels looked more like a pampered celebrity than a housewife, married to a cosmetic surgeon. Today’s designer outfit, pantsuit, chocolate-brown patent leather platforms and handbag, was what could be called dressing down for her. Her attire alone could be priced at over three thousand dollars, and that figure tripled if one were to assess the four-karat pear-shaped diamond ring set in platinum, the two-karat diamond earrings or the solid gold watch on her dainty wrist. Kennedy inhaled her mother’s signature scent and the familiar feeling was both comforting and disturbing.

Elmira’s thick wavy hair was cut in a short bob, shaved in the back circa 1986 Anita Baker, dyed dark brown with blond highlighted bangs sweeping her forehead. The only sign revealing her age were the tiny crow’s-feet visible near the outside corners of her hazel eyes. That minor flaw was no match for the meticulously applied cosmetics in which she lived. Her buttermilk complexion was as beautiful today as it was when she was half her present age. Her face wore a dual expression today, the first of which was concern for her eldest child. The second expression—slightly masked, yet apparent to those closest to her—spoke to the indignation she felt that such a tragedy could have befallen one of the Daniels.

Madison rolled her eyes, sickened by her mother’s constant dramatics and her father’s characteristic indulgence. If Kennedy could respond in the same manner, it was no doubt that she would have because as solicitous as her sister was, today’s behavior was extreme.

“Hey, sis, are you hanging in there?” Madison asked, moving closer to the side of the hospital bed after Elmira exited the room.

“Maddie? Yeah, I’m okay,” Kennedy lied.

Kennedy’s heart warmed at the sound of her sister’s high-pitched voice. With the aid of the pain medications she’d been given, which had the effect of making her mind a fuzzy place where happy images of her life rested, she fondly remembered when Madison, three years her junior, had first begun to talk in complete sentences. The family had been certain that she’d grow out of her voice or that the highness of her tone would deepen as she got older, but it never really did. Kennedy used to tease her when they were little, telling her she sounded like a cartoon character. Madison, never one to care what people thought of her, would giggle and imitate Minnie Mouse. As Madison grew older, every part of her changed and developed except the tone of her voice. That voice set her apart from the other girls and the boys flocked to it and to her like kittens to warm milk. Madison learned to use her voice, and all of her other attributes, to get the things she wanted. She was shorter than Kennedy, closer to her mother’s height at only about five-seven in heels. Her complexion matched Elmira’s, while Kennedy had inherited a shade closer to their father Joseph’s golden-brown skin tone. The sisters shared the same high foreheads and wide, dimpled smiles, making it clear to anyone who saw them that they were related despite the other physical differences. If there remained any doubt that they were sisters, those doubts were silenced when anyone attempted to mess with one or the other.

One hot summer day when Kennedy was nine years old and Madison six and attending Elko Lake sleepaway camp for the first time, Kennedy had been down near the lake with the older campers, learning how to build a raft out of bamboo and vine, when all of a sudden one of the kids from Madison’s group ran down yelling that Madison was getting jumped by a group of campers. Kennedy took off before the words were fully off of the girl’s tongue. She ran uphill, around the cluster of cabins to the arts and crafts area. Through the storm of dust that was being kicked up, she saw three girls surrounding Madison, a sea of arms and hair tangled together. Madison was holding her own against the trio of troublemakers, but she was in a no-win situation, especially since one of the girls was big, bucktoothed Liza, who was the size of two six-year-olds put together.

Kennedy snatched one girl from the back of her head and literally tossed her through the air, the girl landing in a loud thud five feet away. She grabbed Liza by one arm, spinning her around to face her and before the girl knew what was happening, Kennedy had clocked her in the jaw. Liza’s hands went up to protect her face and Kennedy seized the moment, raising her Pro-Ked-clad foot and kicking the girl in the abdomen as hard as she could. Liza dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Kennedy looked over her shoulder and saw that, now that Madison was in a fair fight, there was nothing to worry about.

Madison had her last opponent on the ground and was a whirlwind as she sat on her knees wailing on the girl’s upper body and face. The first girl Kennedy had attacked was sitting on the ground holding the spot on her head that was oozing blood from where it had struck the side of one of the craft tables when Kennedy had tossed her. Liza attempted to get up and Kennedy took that as a sign that she hadn’t received enough of an ass-whipping. She pounced on the girl, her fists balled, seeking to teach her never to mess with a Daniels again. By the time the counselors were able to separate and subdue Kennedy and Madison, all three of their victims were blubbering mixtures of blood and tears. From that day on, wherever they went, the story followed them and it was a rare brave soul who’d even think about confronting one of them.

In recent years, Kennedy had felt as though her once inseparable relationship with her sister had grown distant. The older Madison got, the more she rebelled, while time had the exact opposite effect on Kennedy. Madison seemed to get pleasure out of going against their parents’ wishes, rocking the boat as turbulently as she could. It put a strain on the camaraderie she and Kennedy once shared, as Kennedy was the one who followed their parents’ instructions to the letter. At twenty-five, Madison had become wild and impulsive and she heeded the advice or words of caution of no one, including her onetime ally, big sister Kennedy.

Seeing Kennedy bandaged from head to toe and lying in a hospital bed having nearly escaped death, obviously paused Madison. She quickly swiped at the tears that were swimming on the rims of her eyes, turned up her dazzling smile and stroked the only space on Kennedy’s face that didn’t seem bruised, bandaged or purple with pain.

“That’s good to hear. Girl, for a minute there I thought you were trying to leave me alone with that crazy woman!” Madison joked.

“Maddie,” Joseph warned, although he secretly got a kick out of his youngest daughter’s ability to ruffle his wife’s feathers.

“Come on, Dad. I sat behind you guys on the flight down here and all she did was talk your ear off the whole time about going after the manufacturer of Kennedy’s car. Then what’d she say? Oh yeah, she thinks somehow the state of Virginia is responsible for this. As if something they did or didn’t do to the roads caused Kennedy’s accident. I am surprised she doesn’t want to sue Mother Nature for the rain. I swear, she is a piece of work,” Madison fumed unapologetically.

Joseph held his tongue, unwilling to go toe to toe with his daughter, especially when she was speaking the truth.

“Madison, don’t upset your sister,” was all he said.

“Oh, Dad, there’s nothing I can tell Kennedy about her mother that would shock her.”

She had taken to referring to Elmira as only Kennedy’s mother as the two of them argued more and grew ever more distant. Kennedy’s attempt at a laugh came out as a wince as the ever-present pain intensified. Madison called for the nurse, who came in and turned the dial on the machine that released morphine into Kennedy’s system intravenously. Madison sat silently, holding her sister’s hand while sleep overcame her.

Joseph looked on for a few minutes and then slipped out of the room to go and tend to his wife. Madison shook her head, keeping her thoughts to herself. For the remainder of that day, while their father returned periodically to sit in silence near Kennedy’s bed, their mother could not bring herself to return to the room. Madison knew that her discomfort came more from the unwillingness to accept that one of her children could possibly have a permanently damaged face and distorted body than any other reason their father tried to gesticulate. In the world of Elmira Daniels, there was no such thing as imperfection.