Mosaic - Jeri Taylor [97]
"How much farther?" she asked, lurching again as her foot slipped into a rut.
"Until you're physically tired."
"I am. I promise."
"I'll know when you really are."
Kathryn subsided once more. Just get through this, she thought. Stumble through the cornfields until Phoebe was convinced she was breathing hard, and then she could go back to bed. She settled into a sullen silence, concentrating on not twisting her ankle on the unfrly earth. She had managed to eat some of the vegetable bouillon her sister had made her, and gulped down several cups of coffee-Phoebe did make the best coffee in the family, no doubt about it-which she actually enjoyed. Now they were on this mindless trek, walking nowhere for no reason, just waiting for her to get tired. The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. Finally, she stopped short.
"That's it, Phoebe," she said firmly. "I'm not your prisoner. I don't have to go any farther if I don't want to. I'm going home."
Phoebe circled around in front of her, clear gray eyes holding hers steadily, cheeks flushed a patch of pink from the cold. "No, you aren't," she retorted. "You don't seem to understand. I'm not going to let you sleep your life away. You've indulged yourself long enough."
Indignation leapt up in Kathryn, a righteous ire that was as close to real feeling as she'd had in months. "Indulged? Excuse me, Phoebe, if I'm not snapping back from this according to your time schedule, but I wasn't aware I had to live up to your expectations. Is it asking too much that you maybe have a modicum of sympathy?"
But Phoebe showed no such thing. She glared at her sister, chin tilted, carried by her own tide of righteousness. "You've had nothing but sympathy from everybody. Good grief, Kathryn-it was an awful thing that happened. But you're not grieving, you're wallowing in grief. It's consuming you, and we're not going to let that happen."
Kathryn started to retort, but Phoebe took another breath and kept going. "Do you think you're the only one in pain? Of course it was worse for you, you lost two people-but I lost Daddy, too. And Mom lost her husband. She can't do her own mourning because she's so worried about you." Phoebe looked at her, waiting for a response, but Kathryn had none. She felt suddenly naked in this bright winter sun, stripped of defense. She began to shiver.
"We've given you time, we've waited on you, we've done everything we can to help you get through this. But you're sinking deeper and deeper-I didn't know it was possible to sleep as much as you do. That's not good for you, and it certainly isn't good for Mom and me, who love you and care about you. So I'm not taking it any longer. You're going to get up, you're going to face life, and if it hurts for a while it's just going to have to hurt. That's the only way you're going to get better." A vision of the closed door flashed in Kathryn's mind, and she started to tell Phoebe that she'd never get better until that door was opened, but then she realized she didn't even know what that meant. Her sister's words crawled around on her for a moment while Kathryn tried to reject their truth, but eventually she couldn't resist them, and she felt her mind absorbing them all.
Phoebe was right. She couldn't go on like this. Daddy and Justin weren't coming back no matter what she did, so she'd better get on with life. But could she? In her bed, eyes closed, pain receded. Standing out here, in the cold winter air, she felt misery begin to rise in her, erupting in the pit of her stomach and then snaking out to envelop the rest of her body. She felt queasy. She had to lie down, get warm again. Close her eyes. She felt Phoebe's strong