Page 65 of The Senator's Wife

“You’re being silly, Sloane. Youareher business. So why didn’t you tell me Camille was coming over today?”

“I didn’t know she was. But why are you making a big deal out of it?”

“I’m not. I just would have liked to ask her about Rosemary. See if maybe she can talk to her about coming over when she’s better, for a family dinner. I’ve been feeling bad, actually, that I’ve not tried harder to heal the breach between us.”

Sloane looked at him in surprise. “Really?”

“Really. My parents are gone. So are yours. Rosemary and Camille are our only family. We need to pull together and be there for each other. I’m going to see that it happens.”

Sloane felt suddenly remorseful for the tone she’d taken with Whit. “That’s wonderful. I’m glad you feel that way.”

“Well, you look tired. I should let you get some rest.” Whit kissed her cheek. “Good night, sweetheart,” he said, and left the bedroom.

Sloane stared at the closed door, turning things over in her mind. She felt trapped and defenseless, unable to trust those around her. “You can trust yourself,” she said out loud. That would have to be enough.

- 50 -

ATHENA

Athena was exhausted. Now that Sloane was so sick, it felt like she was working around the clock. She opened her laptop and typed in her notes from today.

Sloane slept fitfully last night, up at least five times. This has been the pattern the last few days. Muscle tone weaker. Mild confusion upon being awakened for dinner. Ate two crackers and one ounce of chicken. Must increase protein shakes. Speak to Whit about having new labs done to check for anemia.

Because Athena was not a nurse, her job requirements didn’t involve direct communication with Sloane’s doctors, so she relied on Whit to report back to her.

Once she finished her notes, she changed into her nightgown and brought the laptop into bed with her, replaying tonight’s dinner conversation with Whit. Their talks had become more intimate, their walks in the garden a nightly ritual. She knew that Whit was coming to depend upon her to bring some relief and lightness to his burdens. Athena did feel a little guilty for keeping Clint in the dark about her developing relationship with Whit. If he knew that she was having dinner with Whit on a regular basis, she’d get a lecture that that wasn’t part of her job, that she was letting the lines blur, blah-blah-blah.

She knew it was important that she maintain Whit’s trust. She had to tread lightly, but it was her hope that Whit would begin to include her on the medical decisions.

She shut the laptop and got up, slipping on her robe. She shouldcheck on Sloane again before turning in for the night, although if the last few nights were anything to go by, she wouldn’t be getting much sleep. The hall was dark, and as she approached Sloane’s bedroom, she saw that no light shined from below her door. Deactivating the alarm with her remote control, she slowly turned the knob and crept into the room. Sloane was out cold. Athena shut the door behind her and walked to the foot of the bed, staring at the woman as she slept. She moved to the nightstand, turned on the lamp, and waited. Sloane didn’t awaken. She picked up Sloane’s cellphone and tapped in the password she’d watched Sloane enter the day they’d gone to lunch together. Athena smiled as the phone opened. She scrolled through the list of recent calls, then went to the texts and read through those. Glancing at Sloane to make sure she was still out, she opened up the email. She forwarded two emails that Brianna had sent to her own email, and then put the phone back. She turned back to the sleeping figure. Her breathing was shallow, and Athena watched as her hand jerked to the side in a spasm. She was definitely getting worse.

- 51 -

SLOANE

The next morning, Sloane woke up and looked in confusion at the nail scissors next to her pillow. Then she saw the hair scattered across the sheet. It took a minute for it to sink in. She lifted her hand to her head and screamed. Her hair! It was all choppedup.

Whit came running into the room. “Sloane, what’s wrong?”

When she lifted her head, his mouth dropped open. “What happened?”

Sloane was so unnerved she could barely speak. She held up the small pair of nail scissors. “These were on my pillow. And all my hair.” She pointed. “Can you get me a mirror?”

Whit took the hand mirror from her dressing table and handed it to her.

“My God, what have I done?” she moaned, turning her head from side to side as she examined her likeness. “This is impossible! I don’t remember anything! How could I have done this?”

Whit sat on the bed and took Sloane’s hand in his. “We’re going to figure this out. But is there anything you haven’t told me? There’s no shame here. I need to know. Have you been blacking out, or forgetting things?”

Sloane didn’t answer right away. Blowing out a large breath, she hesitated. She thought about her confusion at times, and about how she seemed to keep forgetting little things like the fact that Whit had told her about changing his office lock. Just the other day she’d had trouble remembering the name of Doris, the housekeeper who had been with her for over twenty years. “A little. I, um, sometimes I can’t think of words. But this…this is horrible.” Sloane touched her head again, and her face flushed pink. “What’shappening to me? I feel like I’m losing my mind. It’s been almost a week. When are we going to have the results of the MRI?”

“I called Friday, but they didn’t have them yet. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Call Dr. Porter. See if he can rush the report.”

“Absolutely. Why don’t I get you something to drink, and then I’ll call.”

Sloane nodded absently, and Whit withdrew from the room.

---