“All this takes time,” said the doctor.
“How much time?”
“It depends on the individual. You need to remember that powerful anesthetics were used to induce the coma. We can’t just turn them off. Instead, we’ll gradually reduce the drugs while carefully monitoring brain activity and other vital signs. Your critically ill loved one should be able to come off the respirator as the anesthetics are minimized…”
“Critically ill loved one? Swear to god, Lilly—it’s not what you say that makes me want to throw you out a window, but how you say it.”
“What?”
“He isn’t my critically ill loved one. He has a name. McKenzie. His name is McKenzie.”
That caused Emma to snap to attention.
“You’re right, Nina. I’m sorry. Sometimes I slip into doctor lecture mode. What I’m trying to say is that waking up is a gradual process; it won’t happen straight away. After the drugs have been removed from his system, McKenzie should slowly but surely wake up. Once he does, though—the man was shot. McKenzie isn’t going to get up and walk out of the hospital and take you dancing…”
“As if he ever does.”
“His body will need time to heal, too, not just his heart and brain.”
“Excuse me,” Emma said.
Lilly spun toward her. “What?” She saw the young woman take a step backward, an expression of alarm on her face. She raised a hand and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry. What can I do for you?”
Emma hesitated a moment before she answered.
“I apologize for eavesdropping but you said—you mentioned McKenzie,” she said. “A man named McKenzie. Could you tell me—is he going to be okay?”
“Do you know McKenzie?” Nina asked.
“Yes. Well, kinda. We met only once. I’m pretty sure he’s my uncle, though.”
That caused the two women to glance at each other.
“Who are you?” Nina asked.
“My name is Emma King.”
Nina burned through her emotions like a highway flare, starting with anger seasoned with a pinch of hate and eventually settling on curiosity. She knew from what little she had been able to drag out of Bobby Dunston that the King family was involved with the shooting. She told herself that if she remained calm, if she supported my lie, she might just find out how.
“I’m Nina Truhler.” She offered her hand; Emma shook it reluctantly. “If McKenzie’s your uncle that makes me your aunt.”
“My aunt? Oh, God, I am so sorry.”
“What are you sorry about, Emma?”
“About what happened. About—I heard you.” She was talking to Dr. Linder now. “You said it would take a long time for him to heal.”
“Yes.”
“He’s going to be all right, though?”
“Barring unforeseen complications.”
“That’s a relief. I’m happy about that, but it means he can’t help.”
“Help what?” Nina asked.
“My uncle. My other uncle.”
“Why don’t we sit over here and talk?”
Nina gestured Emma toward a chair in the center of the waiting area. Dr. Linder glanced at her watch.
“I need to go,” she said.
“When will you begin?” Nina asked.
“Begin weaning McKenzie off the anesthetics? When the anesthesiologist arrives.”
Nina made a production of looking at her own watch.
“Yes, I know,” Lilly said.
A moment later, she was gone. Nina sat next to Emma. She told me later that it took her a few moments to compose herself; for her to turn her thoughts away from me and to the young woman sitting by her side. She rested her hands on the arms of the chair, closed her eyes, and practiced one of the deep-breathing exercises that Shelby had taught her. Slowly she opened her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked.
“I’m trying to be. You said McKenzie is your uncle?”
“You’re married to McKenzie?”
“Yes.”
“But you call him by his last name?”
“He doesn’t like his first name.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“One day I’m sure he’ll tell you the story, Emma.”
“I am so, so sorry.”
“You keep saying that. Emma, why are you sorry?”
“I might have caused all this. I mean—I can’t really believe it. It would mean my family—but that doesn’t make sense to me. My uncle…”
“Tell me about your uncle,” Nina said.
“I met McKenzie last Monday…”
“Not that one.”
“Charles. Charles King. He owns KTech, a company that works with artificial intelligence. He’s famous. Some people call him King Charles like he’s some kind of royal despot or something only he’s not. He might be the kindest person I’ve ever known. He’s always been kind to me.”
“What about him?”
“He has primary sclerosing cholangitis. That’s a liver disease. If he doesn’t receive a liver transplant soon, he’ll die. I took some tests to see if I was compatible. It was the least I could do after all the things he’s done for me, only I wasn’t a match because of my blood type. Elliot, she’s my best friend. She’s also my cousin. Second cousin. She took the tests, too. She wasn’t compatible, either. Her size. Most of my family took tests. My other uncle, Porter. Elliot’s father, Marshall. No luck. My mother couldn’t donate because—just because. Then we met McKenzie and we thought—Elliot and I thought—maybe he could help. He’s family after all. At least that’s what the DNA results prove. So we drove back to the Cities. We went to Elliot’s house. Her father was there, Marshall. After we started telling him what we thought, he called my mom and she came over and it was just us and the two of them. I don’t know why they didn’t call Charles or Porter. It doesn’t make sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense, Emma?”
“They seemed angry. I mean angry at us, me and Elliot. We told them about McKenzie and Marshall started lecturing us about involving complete strangers in family matters. I told him that McKenzie wasn’t a stranger, that he was family, and that we had met him and he seemed like a nice man. Is he a nice man?”
“Yes.”
“It didn’t matter. Not to Marshall or Mom. They said that McKenzie—he could open up a can of worms that could really hurt the family and I’m like ‘Can of worms?
