Chapter 13 #2
No one answered. Kylie looked toward Jonah, but he was watching Summer on the floor.
Both glasses. Kylie had brought both glasses and watched them drink. Summer looked at Jonah, who was still trying to see her past Lorraine’s shoulder. He hadn’t been choosing to stay away.
“Oh, God.” Summer tried to move toward him. Lorraine caught her arm before she could get her feet under her.
“Wait,” Lorraine said. Her voice shook. “Summer, you’ll fall.”
Ruth was still on the phone. She repeated a question to Jonah’s father, then crouched beside Summer while they waited. The clock above the bedroom door ticked loudly enough that Summer could hear it between voices; she watched its hand move and wanted someone to stop the noise.
A siren grew louder outside. Ruth stood to wave to someone at the stairs, and Lorraine loosened her hold on Summer’s arm.
“Please help me get to him,” Summer said. Jonah was watching her from the bed. “I can’t stand. I need you to help me.”
He heard and began moving toward the edge of the bed. Summer reached across the space between them.
“Stay there,” she said quickly. “I’m coming to you. Jonah, please stay there.”
The paramedics reached the landing before she could argue with Lorraine again. There were questions, an assessment she endured impatiently, then a chair was brought beside the bed. With help, she crossed the short distance that had become impossible on her own.
Jonah held out his hand, then drew it back. His face had crumpled in the effort of not crying.
“I didn’t know,” he said. His eyes went to the blue dress and away. “I thought she was you, I swear.”
Summer took his hand in both of hers. His fingers were cold, and she pressed them against her cheek.
“I believe you,” Summer said. “Jonah, look at me. I believe you.”
He looked at her as if she might take the words back. She could barely see him through the tears that had come all at once.
“I think she put something in the wine,” she said. His grip closed painfully around hers, and she held on.
“I’m sorry. I should have seen you couldn’t—oh, Jonah.” She touched his face when he began to shake his head, and he leaned into her hand.
Summer brought his head against her shoulder. The angle was awkward, his weight more than she could manage until the paramedic helped steady him, but she held on. “I’m here,” she said into his hair. “You can hold on to me.”
His arm came around her waist, and she started shaking so badly that he lifted his head. His own face was wet.
“You’re cold.” He looked around for something to cover her. “Where’s your coat?”
Lorraine put the wrap around her shoulders. Jonah pulled its edge across her chest, concentrating fiercely on the small task until Summer caught his hand and kept it there.
Kylie spoke from beside the dressing table. “Jonah, please listen to me,” she said. She had taken a step toward them. “We got carried away, reminiscing. It happens, but don't let her turn this into something it isn’t. Don’t lie and say you didn’t know it was me. You know I’d never hurt you?—.”
He tightened against Summer. “Don’t come near me,” he said. His voice was suddenly loud enough to stop everything else.
Kylie stopped. For the first time since Summer opened the door, she seemed unable to find a response.
“Get her out,” Summer said to Lorraine. She kept looking at Kylie. “Away from us.”
Lorraine stood. Ruth took Kylie toward the door, and Jonah’s father remained between her and the bed until the blue hem disappeared into the corridor.
Summer turned back to Jonah. His eyes were closing, and fear went through her so quickly that she said his name twice before the paramedic answered, drawing his attention back.
They needed the hospital. Summer understood that, understood why the questions couldn’t stop just because she’d finally reached him. She gave the times from her phone and described the missing part of the evening, then stayed quiet while Jonah spoke.
He struggled at first. His eyes kept going to her, and she held his hand against her lap so he wouldn’t have to look far.
“She was touching me, but it was you—” he said. He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t—there’s so much I can’t remember.”
Summer wanted to pull a blanket over him, wanted to get him off the bed where Kylie had put her hands. She made herself listen. When he stopped, she waited until he could go on.
They couldn’t travel together. Summer began to object, then stopped when it was explained that they both needed care on the journey. She wouldn’t keep him in this room because she hated the thought of another one without him.
“Tell them we want to see each other,” she said to Lorraine. She looked at Jonah’s father too. “As soon as we can. Please don’t let anyone think I’ve asked to be kept away.”
“We’ll tell them.” Lorraine crouched beside her again. “I’ll stay with you. His dad will stay with him.”
Summer kissed Jonah’s cheek before they helped her into the chair for the stairs. His skin was cold and damp, and she caught his sleeve, wanting one more second so fiercely that she almost asked for it.
He held her there until she had to let go. “You’ll come?” he asked. He was looking directly at her now.
“Yes.” She kept her hand on his face for a moment.
Downstairs, the music had stopped. Guests stood against the walls, some turning away and others staring. Summer saw the woman in feathers holding her collar, her mouth slightly open; she looked past her toward the front door.
Near the coatroom, Kylie was talking quickly to a man Summer didn’t recognize. Her hands moved above the copied dress.
“Don’t let her come,” Summer said. She turned toward Lorraine, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.
“She isn’t coming.” Lorraine stayed beside the chair. “She’s staying here.”
Outside, the cold reached beneath the wrap. Someone covered Summer with a blanket while she tried to keep the front door in view, waiting for Jonah to appear.
Lorraine gave her the phone. There was a message from her mother saying she was on her way to the hospital, followed by a question about Jonah.
The ambulance doors closed before she saw his father come outside. She kept the phone in her hand and tried to not to pass out.