No. Not Clare. She loved him. They’d loved each other from the start and had a marriage and family others envied. She’d never leave him. But looking down at the battered woman in the hospital bed and remembering how she’d gotten there, suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

Jill stepped into the room, and Jack forced a smile for his oldest daughter.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hey.” She stared at her mother with gray-blue eyes that were just like his. “No change?”

Since he couldn’t bear to tell her what the neurologist had said, he shook his head. “Could I ask you something?”

Jill moved to the other side of the bed and rested a hand on her mother’s arm. At fifteen, she moved with the poise of a woman twice her age. “Sure.”

“Before this happened, did you notice anything…you know…different about Mom?”

“Well, yeah.” Her sarcastic reply surprised him.

“Like what?”

“That she was totally distracted, disorganized, scattered? And she was always forgetting stuff—like getting Maggie from school. That happened a bunch of times. They’d call the house, and I’d have to go get her because we couldn’t reach Mom.”

Astounded, Jack stared at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her shrug was full of teenage insolence. “We didn’t think you’d care.”

“Why in the world would you think that?”

“Because! All you care about is work! And making money! You don’t care about us.”

Jack stared at her, his heart aching. “Everything I do is for you and your sisters.” He glanced down at Clare. “And your mother.”

“When was the last time you came to one of my lacrosse games or watched Maggie play soccer? Do you even know that Maggie plays soccer now?”

Where was this coming from? How long had she wanted to say this to him? “I’m sorry you think I don’t care about you. I love you more than anything. I’ve always tried to show you that.”

The cold, hard look she sent his way let him know he’d failed miserably.

“I tried to talk to her about what was bothering her, but she refused to tell me,” he said.

“I wonder if we’ll ever know.”

Jack couldn’t bring himself to tell her that the doctor had said her mother would probably never recover.

Frannie held back the tears until she reached the parking lot and couldn’t contain them any longer.

“Fran,” Jamie called from the next row. As he jogged over to her, tall, blond, and so handsome, she brushed frantically at the dampness on her face.

He stopped short in front of her. “Hey,” he said, cupping her face and forcing her to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

Telling him what the doctor had said brought new tears to her eyes.

“Shit,” he muttered as he gathered her into his arms.