Chapter 17

Cohen

I looked at the clock to see that it was nearly two, grumbling as I reached over to turn the lamp on. I had been trying to sleep for hours but it had proven to be useless—all I could think about was Abby and the look on her face, how stricken and surprised she had been when I’d revealed my deceit. I reached over to grab my computer and opened an email, preparing to type to her, not knowing what I was going to say. I sat there for a few moments with my fingers on the keyboard before I sighed and shut the computer. I didn’t think Abby was ready for me to send her an email yet, to communicate with her in a way that had been intimate between us.

I tried again to sleep, turning the lamp off, when there was a frantic knock at the door.

“Cohen,” came Abby’s urgent voice. “Cohen, wake up.”

I got out of bed and hurried across the room, throwing the door open. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at me.

“Paul,” I said. She nodded.

“There’s something really wrong,” she said.

“What is it?”

“He won’t respond. He seems to be awake, but—”

“Let’s go,” I said to her quickly. We went downstairs and I nearly burst into my uncle’s room. He was staring straight ahead, his mouth slightly open, drool coming from the corner. Abby hurried over to wipe his face, looking over her shoulder at me in desperation as I approached the bed.

“Paul,” I said softly. “Paul, look at me.”

He said nothing, but continued to stare. I touched his cheek, turning his face gently to me.

“Paul,” I said. “Come on. Wake up.”

“I think we need to call the doctor,” Abby said. I nodded.

“Please go do it,” I said to her. She disappeared into her room then, leaving me alone with my uncle.

“Listen, Paul,” I said to him. “You’ve really—you really have to pull out of this. I can’t do this without you.”

“Cohen,” he said in a feeble voice, his eyes turning to me. I smiled at him.

“Hi,” I said. “Uncle Paul. Can you hear me?”

“Abigail,” he said. My brow furrowed.

“Abby?”

“No, Abigail, my—” He cut himself off, coughing mid-sentence. He didn’t resume speaking afterward, but looked away from me.

“Come on,” I pleaded with him, feeling a lump form in my throat. “Wake up. Wake up.”

He didn’t respond, and his eyes closed. Abby came back a moment later.

“Dr. Owens is on the way,” she said. I nodded, sitting down next to Paul, taking his bony hand in mine.

“I’m sorry, Cohen,” Abby said. I looked up at her.

“It’s not your fault,” I said.

“He’s under my care,” she said, wringing her hands together. “Something’s wrong with him. I—I fell asleep. I checked on him an hour late.”

“You’re allowed to sleep, Abby,” I said to her, wishing there was something I could do about her fraught expression. Even with Paul’s condition, I felt my heart aching for Abby, wanted to reach out and comfort her. She closed her eyes, pressing her fingertips to her eyelids.

“I’m going to go wait for the doctor,” she said, hurrying out of the room before I could see the tears fall from her eyes. I looked at Paul, filled with worry, holding his hand until Abby returned with Dr. Owens in tow, her eyes swollen and red.

“Hi there,” Dr. Owens said, coming to Paul’s side, peering at his face. “What’s the issue?”

“He was awake but he was unresponsive,” I said. “Couldn’t focus his eyes, was just staring straight ahead.”

The doctor nodded, pulling back Paul’s eyelids, studying his eyes for a moment as he felt his forehead.

“Has he had a fever?” he asked Abby.

“No, I don’t think so,” Abby said, chewing on her bottom lip. “He was fine today. A little weak. And he got upset earlier—”

“Upset about what?” the doctor asked.

“There are two people staying here. One of them claims that he’s Paul’s son.”

“Did you have him do a DNA test?” the doctor asked. I shook my head.

“He offered, but—”

“Do that before you worry too much. As for Paul—I’m sorry to say this, but—it’s just getting close to his time.”

“What?” I asked, standing up, narrowing my eyes at him. “You’re just—giving up? Not going to help him?”

“There’s not much I can do to help,” said the doctor in what was supposed to be a comforting tone. It sounded belittling to me, grating in my ears. I gritted my teeth.

“Doctor,” I said. “I—”

“Cohen, it’s OK,” said Abby gently. She looked at the doctor.

“Thank you for coming out, Dr. Owens,” she said. I opened my mouth to argue but she cut me off with a look.

“I’m sorry there’s not more that I can do for you,” said the doctor. “The best thing you can do right now is to make him comfortable. I can come back tomorrow and set up a drip to keep him hydrated if you want.”

“Yes,” said Abby gratefully. “Thank you.”

I glared at him as he left. Abby’s eyes turned to mine and she came over to me, wrapping my body in a hug.

“I’m so sorry,” she said into my ear, kissing my cheek. I felt something soften inside of me, almost break as she held me close. There was a knot in my throat that kept me from speaking, although I did bring my hand up to her hair, stroking it as she hugged me.

“I’m going to stay the rest of the night in here with him,” I said to her. “Go back to bed.”

“But—”

“You’re exhausted, Abby. I’m awake. Go to bed.”

“OK,” she said softly, pulling back from me. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I said to her, watching as she left the room, leaving me alone with my uncle.