“But he’ll be okay?” she heard herself asking. Of course he will. It’s Dan. . . .
“I can’t comment on his condition, only to say that it’s serious. He’s at Northern General in Missoula.”
“How serious?”
“You can call the hospital. They have more information,” Alvarez said. “I really am not at liberty to say any more.”
“But who?” Hattie asked, stunned. “Why?”
“We don’t know yet, Ms. Grayson, but we’re working on it,” the detective assured her.
Hattie slowly hung up, distantly aware of her twins, their voices rising from somewhere in the living room, on the verge of yet another argument. At eight, her daughters were starting to become more independent of each other for the first time in their short lives. No longer did they want to dress alike. No longer did they protest at being put in separate classrooms. While Mallory had begun to show an interest in dance and the arts, McKenzie remained a tomboy, with a love of sports and horses.
Like her father, Hattie thought, and felt an unlikely tug on her heart. Bart hadn’t been her first choice of the Grayson brothers, but he’d been the one she’d married. The only one who’d asked to marry her. And, of course, it hadn’t worked. Not even the birth of the twins had been able to stop that ever-steady unraveling of their union.
And now, Dan, the rock of the family, was fighting for his life.
“Mom! She’s doing it again!” Mallory screeched. Gathering her strength, Hattie walked into the hallway and nearly collided with Mallory, who was barrelling down the short corridor to tattle on her sister. She put on the brakes, skidding to a stop, then looked earnestly up at her mother. “McKenzie’s cheating.”
“At what?” Hattie asked automatically, then caught herself. It didn’t matter. “Never mind. Look, girls,” she said as McKenzie rounded the corner, “we need to talk. Come on.”
Herding her kids back toward the living area, she was struck at how much they looked like their father. With their curly dark hair and big eyes, they were little carbon copies of Bart, already showing signs of high cheekbones yet to completely form, a nod to some Native American ancestor in the Grayson family tree. While Mallory always wore dresses with matching headbands and shoes that usually sparkled, McKenzie wouldn’t be caught in anything but jeans, T-shirts, and cowboy boots.
“Cheater!” Mallory spat, the short skirt of her dress flouncing with each of her outraged steps as they returned to the living room and the mounds of discarded paper and ribbons from hastily opened gifts. Cards and dice from a new game were strewn haphazardly on the carpet, opened boxes with tissue paper visible were stacked haphazardly at the end of the couch, and a few more brightly wrapped boxes were still waiting under the tree, gifts for Dan. Hattie’s heart ached as she thought of him lying in the hospital.
Plopping onto the worn sofa, her arms crossed indignantly over her chest, Mallory was still irked at her sister. “See!” she said, pointing an accusing finger at the upturned board game.
McKenzie wasn’t about to take the accusation lying down. “I didn’t cheat. Mom, she’s lying!”
Mallory was shaking her head, dark curls bouncing as she pronounced, “The rules say that—”
“Girls, please,” Hattie broke in. “Let’s not do this, okay?” How to tell them about their beloved uncle? She usually opted for the truth, but today she just couldn’t utter the words that their favorite uncle had been the target of some malicious attack. “It’s Christmas,” she reminded them as they shot each other looks that could kill.
Mallory pouted, “But we were playing and—”
“Mal! It doesn’t matter right now, okay?” For the first time her words, or maybe her sharp tone, caused both of her children to stop their petty arguing to stare at her. “We, uh, we’re going to have to change our plans a bit. Uncle Dan can’t make it to dinner this afternoon.”
“Oh, maaaan.” McKenzie was clearly disappointed. She and her uncle had always been close.
“Why?” Mallory wanted to know. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“He’s been hurt.”
“How?” Mallory again.
“I don’t know a lot of details, but he’s in the hospital and I’m going to see him as soon as Nana arrives.”
McKenzie said, “I want to go.”
“Me too!” Mallory wasn’t to be left out.
“Not today. He’s not up for a lot of visitors. But soon.”
“What happened?” Mallory asked.
“As I said—”
McKenzie cut in, “Is he sick? Like when Nana got new ammonia?”