Free In Search of Eden by Linda Nichols Page A

tell me anything.”
    He frowned and looked at her with confusion. “What do you mean?”
    â€œI mean Mom left and just said she’d be back as soon as she could. She said she had to go meet Dad and that you would come and get me. I know something bad’s happened, and everybody knows but me.”
    He felt a flush of anger, followed quickly by one of bitterness. Sarah had never liked to deal with messy emotional situations. It looked as if nothing had changed. He reached down and took Eden’s hand. It was bigger than the day he had first clasped it, and there was no chipped red fingernail polish today. The nails were small and rimmed with white and tipped slightly upward. She wore a bracelet of braided thread, a hooded purple sweatshirt, and jeans. Her dark hair still flew every which way. Her pretty blue eyes were worried, the freckles standing out sharply against her pale face.
    â€œTell me,” she ordered.
    â€œIt’s your dad,” he said gently. “He’s been hurt.”
    She cried a little while, and he held her. She dried her eyes, went into her room to pack, and came out with a backpack, a small suitcase, and her notebook. He had to suppress a smile at that. She never went anywhere without her writing utensils.
    She stood there in front of him, backpack and suitcase in hand, and lifted her chin. “Uncle Joseph,” she said, “I want to go see my dad. Will you take me?”
    Joseph hesitated. His instructions had been explicit. Take her back to Abingdon, and Sarah would decide what arrangements to make before Christmas vacation was over. Suddenly it made him angry that Sarah had walked out on someone else who was left holding the sharp-edged pieces.
    He sighed. “I’m supposed to take you to Abingdon.”
    She jutted out her chin.
    He softened. “If we go, it will only be for a day or two,” he warned.
    Eden’s face lit with hope, for she knew the battle had been won. “All right. I won’t argue. I promise.”
    She had a right to see her father, he told himself as he booked the tickets and drove to the airport. They climbed onto the 6:20 flight from D.C. He called Sarah when they were irrevocably committed. She sounded upset at first but quickly lapsed into passivity. He remembered that about her, that tendency to let go too easily.
    â€œHow is he?” Joseph asked.
    â€œHolding on,” she answered briefly.
    They arrived in Minneapolis not long after eight and took a cab to the hospital. They found the Trauma Intensive Care unit after a few minutes of wandering.
    Joseph didn’t go into the waiting room with Eden right away after seeing Sarah there with his mother through the doorway. He sent his niece in alone, saying he would be along in a minute. He felt guilty, as if he were not doing the right thing, as if he were focusing on trivialities of the heart while a life hung in the balance, but somehow he could not make himself go into the room. At least not without preparing himself first by getting a look at who she had become. Eden gave her mother a quick hug, threw herself at her grandmother, then gestured toward the hall. He saw his mother nod and knew they had asked about him. Then Sarahfaced him and he was forced to walk toward her.
    She looked smaller than he remembered, or maybe it was the oversized sweater she was wearing. It looked like one of David’s, and he wondered if it was. She hugged herself as if she were cold. Her face looked thin, the angles of her cheeks standing out in sharp relief. Her blond hair was chin length, not long, as he remembered. There were dark circles under her eyes, and suddenly he felt ashamed of himself, hovering like a lovesick schoolboy while his brother—yes, even as Sarah—was suffering. It was wrong, this hesitation, and he quickly covered the remaining space between them before he could think further.
    He expected her to take stock of him, but she didn’t, just