Contributor (Contributor Trilogy, book 1) by Nicole Ciacchella Read Free Book Online Page B

me from that," she said, tears rolling down her own cheeks.
    "I know the competition has been grueling for you, and I knew how your mother would react if something happened to your chances and I..."
    A moment of perfect clarity struck Dara. Her father had reacted exactly as he had been meant to react. Work had always been salvation, and so he had clung to it with all his might, hoping it would provide his daughter with some sort of shield against her fear and worry.
    "It's okay, Dad," she said, her anger finally dissolving completely. "Please, tell me what happened."
    "Your mother was with her group, and they were testing a new machine. She...she didn't know that there had been a programming error, and so when they activated the machine..." His face drained of all color. Alarmed, Dara half-rose, looking around for help. Jonathan had moved a discreet distance away, and she gestured him over frantically.
    "Dad, are you all right? Dad?" He shuddered in response.
    "Please, go find a doctor," she said to Jonathan. "Tell them that—"
    "No!" Joshua shouted, half-rising from his seat. "I don't need them, your mother does!"
    "Okay, Contributor Morrow," Jonathan said soothingly. "Just let me know if you do need anything, please."
    "Thank you." Joshua's distant voice and far-away expression made Dara suspect he was reliving what he'd been told about his wife's accident. Had they really told him all of the details? Or had he forced them to tell him?
    "Please, Dad, I can't... I don't..." Dara stammered, her stomach churning.
    "She suffered a head injury," her father said, mercifully leaving out the graphic details. "It caused some bleeding in her brain. That's why they did surgery, to try to relieve the pressure caused by the bleeding."
    Horror-struck, Dara tried her best not to pass out or start screaming, or both. "Were they successful?" Her voice came out as a faint squeak.
    "Yes, we were," a young doctor said, approaching them.
    "Is she...can we..." Dara began, but he shook his head.
    "We'd like you to wait for a while. She's resting now."
    "Will she recover?" Dara was loath to let the words escape her. They made this all far, far too real.
    "With an injury like this, it's hard to say. All of her vital signs are strong, and she responded well to surgery. We'll know more once we run some additional tests. For now, the best thing to do is remain positive."
    Dara sank into the chair next to her father. Her mind refused to acknowledge the truly serious nature of her mother's situation, but she knew a head injury was bad. If her mother's brain had been damaged, there was no telling when—or if—she would ever recover.
    "When can we see her?" Joshua asked.
    "Tomorrow," the doctor said firmly. "She needs to rest now. You should both go home, try to get some sleep."
    Staring up at the man, Dara wondered if they trained doctors to say things like this. Surely he could never have been on the receiving end of such news; if he had, he wouldn't dispense such useless advice. Dara knew sleep would be impossible.
    "Oh. Okay," Joshua said. His eyes began to glaze, and Dara knew her father was on the verge of collapse. She would have to be strong for him, however much she felt like falling apart herself.
    "I'll take you home," Jonathan said quietly.
    "Thanks," Dara said, grateful for his solid, reassuring presence.
    No one spoke much as they made their way to the Morrows' apartment. Her father was almost comatose, Jonathan propelling him along. He helped Joshua to the bedroom while Dara went into the kitchen to make tea and to try to find something to give her father to eat. She suspected it had been many hours since his last meal.
    In some ways, having to care for her father was a relief. Though Dara would have liked to sit on her couch and have a good cry, she doubted it would do much to make her feel better. The worst part of all this was feeling useless and, since there was nothing she could do for her mother, it was at least some comfort to do