The Jodi Picoult Collection #2 Read online

  • • •

  My mother is a breath away from me, and in her eyes are all the mistakes she’s ever made. My father comes up and puts his arm around her shoulders. “Come sit down,” he whispers into her hair.

  “Your Honor,” Campbell says, getting to his feet. “May I?”

  He walks toward me, Judge right beside him. I am just as shaky as he is. I think about that dog an hour ago. How did he know for sure what Campbell really needed, and when?

  “Anna, do you love your sister?”

  “Of course.”

  “But you were willing to take an action that might kill her?”

  Something flashes inside me. “It was so she wouldn’t have to go through this anymore. I thought it was what she wanted.”

  He goes silent; and I realize at that moment: he knows.

  Inside me, something breaks. “It was . . . it was what I wanted, too.”

  • • •

  We were in the kitchen, washing and drying the dishes. “You hate going to the hospital,” Kate said.

  “Well, duh.” I put the forks and spoons, clean, back into their drawer.

  “I know you’d do anything to not have to go there anymore.”

  I glanced at her. “Sure. Because you’d be healthy.”

  “Or dead.” Kate plunged her hands into the soapy water, careful not to look at me. “Think about it, Anna. You could go to your hockey camps. You could choose a college in a whole different country. You could do anything you want and never have to worry about me.”

  She pulled these examples right out of my head, and I could feel myself blushing, ashamed that they were even up there to be drawn out into the open. If Kate was feeling guilty about being a burden, then I was feeling twice as guilty for knowing she felt that way. For knowing I felt that way.

  We didn’t talk after that. I dried whatever she handed me, and we both tried to pretend we didn’t know the truth: that in addition to the piece of me that’s always wanted Kate to live, there’s another, horrible piece of me that sometimes wishes I were free.

  • • •

  There, they understand: I am a monster. I started this lawsuit for some reasons I’m proud of and many I’m not. And now Campbell will see why I couldn’t be a witness—not because I was scared to talk in front of everyone—but because of all these terrible feelings, some of which are too awful to speak out loud. That I want Kate alive, but also want to be myself, not part of her. That I want the chance to grow up, even if Kate can’t. That Kate’s death would be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me . . . and also the best.

  That sometimes, when I think about all this, I hate myself and just want to crawl back to where I was, to the person they want me to be.

  Now the whole courtroom is looking at me, and I’m sure that the witness stand or my skin or maybe both is about to implode. Under this magnifying glass, you can see right down to the rotten core at the heart of me. Maybe if they keep staring at me, I will go up in blue, bitter smoke. Maybe I will disappear without a trace.

  “Anna,” Campbell says quietly, “what made you think that Kate wanted to die?”

  “She said she was ready.”

  He walks up until he is standing right in front of me. “Isn’t it possible that’s the same reason she asked you to help her?”

  I look up slowly, and unwrap this gift Campbell’s just handed me. What if Kate wanted to die, so that I could live? What if after all these years of saving Kate, she was only trying to do the same for me?

  “Did you tell Kate you were going to stop being a donor?”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “When?”

  “The night before I hired you.”

  “Anna, what did Kate say?”

  Until now, I hadn’t really thought about it, but Campbell has triggered the memory. My sister had gotten very quiet, so quiet that I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. And then she turned to me with all the world in her eyes, and a smile that crumbled like a fault line.

  I glance up at Campbell. “She said thanks.”

  SARA

  IT IS JUDGE DESALVO’s IDEA to take a field trip of sorts, so that he can talk to Kate. When we all reach the hospital, she is sitting up in bed, absently staring at the TV set that Jesse flicks through with the remote. She is thin, her skin cast yellow, but she’s conscious. “The tin man,” Jesse says, “or the scarecrow?”

  “Scarecrow would get the stuffing knocked out of him,” Kate says. “Chynna from the WWF, or the Crocodile Hunter?”

  Jesse snorts. “The Croc dude. Everyone knows the WWF is fake.” He glances at her. “Gandhi or Martin Luther King, Jr.?”

  “They wouldn’t sign the waiver.”

  “We’re talking Celebrity Boxing on Fox, babe,” Jesse says. “What makes you think they bother with a waiver?”

  Kate grins. “One of them would sit down in the ring, and the other wouldn’t put his mouthguard in.” This is the moment I walk inside. “Hey, Mom,” she asks, “who’d win on Hypothetical Celebrity Boxing—Marcia or Jan Brady?”

  She notices then that I am not alone. As the whole crowd dribbles into the room, her eyes widen, and she pulls the covers up higher. She looks right at Anna, but her sister refuses to meet her eye. “What’s going on?”

  The judge steps forward, takes my arm. “I know you want to talk to her, Sara, but I need to talk to her.” He walks forward, extending his hand. “Hi, Kate. I’m Judge DeSalvo. I was wondering if I could maybe speak to you for a few minutes? Alone,” he adds, and one by one, everyone else leaves the room.

  I am the last to go. I watch Kate lean back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted again. “I had a feeling you’d come,” she tells the judge.

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Kate says, “it always comes back to me.”

  • • •

  About five years ago a new family bought the house across the street and knocked it down, wanting to rebuild something different. A single bulldozer and a half-dozen waste bins were all it took; in less than a morning this structure, which we’d seen every time we walked outside, was reduced to a pile of rubble. You’d think a house would last forever, but the truth is a strong wind or a wrecking ball can devastate it. The family inside is not so different.

  Nowadays I can hardly remember what that old house looked like. I walk out the front door and never recall the stretch of months that the gaping lot stood out, conspicuous in its absence, like a lost tooth. It took some time, you know, but the new owners? They did rebuild.

  • • •

  When Judge DeSalvo comes outside, grim and troubled, Campbell, Brian, and I get to our feet. “Tomorrow,” he says. “Closing’s at nine A.M.” With a nod to Vern to follow, he walks down the hallway.

  “Come on,” Julia tells Campbell. “You’re at the mercy of my chaperonage.”

  “That’s not a real word.” But instead of following her, he walks toward me. “Sara,” he says simply, “I’m sorry.” He gives me one more gift: “You’ll take Anna home?”

  The minute they leave, Anna turns to me. “I really need to see Kate.”

  I slide an arm around her. “Of course you can.”

  We go inside, just our family, and Anna sits down on the edge of Kate’s bed. “Hey,” Kate murmurs, her eyes opening.

  Anna shakes her head; it takes a moment for her to find the right words. “I tried,” she says finally, her voice catching like cotton on thorns, as Kate squeezes her hand.

  Jesse sits down on the other side. The three of them in one spot; it makes me think of the Christmas card photo we would take each October, balancing them in height order in the wings of a maple tree or on a stone wall, one frozen moment for everyone to remember them by.

  “Alf or Mr. Ed,” Jesse says.

  The corners of Kate’s mouth turn up. “Horse. Eighth round.”

  “You’re on.”

  Finally Brian leans down, kisses Kate’s forehead. “Baby, you get a good night’s sleep.” As Anna and Je