Family Tree by Susan Wiggs Read Free Book Online Page A

real than a dream.
    Footsteps again. More rushing around. Squishy rubber soles squeaked on linoleum as people came and went. Annie blinked, glimpsing a woman in cotton scrubs printed with kittens and stars. She bent forward, her breath warm and smelling of spearmint. “Annie. Hey, Annie? Can you hear me?”
    â€œUh.” Broken voice again, noise coming in a toneless rasp. “Huh.”
    The woman’s face blazed with a smile. “Welcome back,” she said.
    The sound of paper tearing, as if ripped off a roll of gift wrap. Footsteps again, hurrying off on a mission, then fading. Running. Running away.
    Come back .
    The woman spoke again, but not to Annie, to someone over her shoulder.
    â€œCall the family—stat.”

4
    C aroline Rush removed the two coordinated art prints from the wall of Annie’s room at the rehab center, and replaced the discount-store artwork with a pair of original paintings of her own. If—no, when —her daughter woke up again, Caroline wanted her to see something familiar on the wall. She still couldn’t get over the feeling of wonder and gratitude she’d felt when they’d called. Annie woke up. She spoke.
    But by the time Caroline had sped down the mountain and along the state highway to Burlington, Annie was asleep again.
    â€œYou picked two of my favorites,” said a voice Caroline hadn’t heard in years.
    She froze. Stopped breathing. Closed her eyes. And then she rallied, inhaling deeply. She would not let this man take her breath away. She would not let him render her at a loss for words. Very slowly, she turned.
    Her ex-husband walked through the door. Ethan was as lean and fit as the day she’d met him—a young man driving a truckload of fresh produce. “Hey, Caro. I got here as quickly as I could.” He brushed past her and went straight to Annie’s bedside. “What’s happening?”
    â€œThey say she’s in transition.”
    Ethan gazed down at their daughter, and his face went soft with sadness. He touched her bony shoulder through the faded hospital drape. “What’s that supposed to mean—in transition?”
    â€œThat’s a question for the doctor. All I know is what I e-mailed Kyle. I assume he forwarded it to you.”
    â€œYeah. So she’s finally waking up? Coming around?”
    Caroline’s stomach pounded with dread for her daughter, a feeling with which she was intimately familiar these days. “There’ve been signs . . .”
    He pinched the bridge of his nose, his face taut with emotion.
    Years after the divorce, Caroline still had no idea how to act around her ex-husband. Since he had left on that glorious pink-and-blue spring day, she’d only seen him a few times. Ethan had attended Kyle’s wedding to Beth, a small and intimate celebration at the Grange Hall in Switchback. It had been awful, because Ethan had brought Imelda with him.
    Caroline had actively hated him in that moment, and then she’d hated herself for letting her ex steal her joy on their son’s wedding day. She did better at Annie’s wedding, several years later. By then, she’d learned to put up an impermeable wall between herself and Ethan. She pretended her ex-husband was just someone she used to know, like the guy who came to root out the septic system once a year.
    â€œI didn’t realize you had a favorite,” she said now, stepping back to make sure the paintings were level.
    â€œThere’s a lot you didn’t know about me,” he said.
    She swung around to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œThe right corner needs to come up a tad,” he said, indicating toward one of the pictures.
    â€œNo, it’s perfect.” She took another step back, and saw that he was right. She reached forward and nudged the corner up.
    She wondered why he’d said this particular painting was one of his favorites. It was a