She eased around the standee and moved slowly forward. She was near the cereal aisle now, and for a split second she thought about Saturday morning breakfasts at the Mularkeys'. Mrs. M. used to let her have Quisp. Only on the weekends, though.
That was her last conscious thought before she passed out.
The drive to the hospital seemed to last forever. All the way there, through the stop-and-go city traffic, Kate sat in the backseat of the smelly cab and prayed that Tully would be okay. Finally, at just past eleven o'clock, they pulled up out front. She paid the driver and ran into the brightly lit lobby.
Johnny and Mutt were already there, slumped in uncomfortable plastic chairs, looking haggard. At her entrance, Johnny stood.
She ran to him. "I saw the news. What happened?"
"A man shot her in the shoulder and she kept on broadcasting. You should have seen her, Mularkey, she was brilliant. Fearless."
Kate heard the admiration in his voice, saw it in his eyes. Any other time it might have wounded her, that obvious pride; now it pissed her off. "That's why you're in love with her, isn't it? Because she has the guts you don't. So you put her in harm's way and get her shot and you're proud of her passion." Her shaking voice drew the last word out like a piece of poisoned taffy. "Screw the heroics. I wasn't talking about the news. I was asking about her life. Have you even asked how she is?"
He looked startled by her outburst. "She's in surgery. She—"
"Katie!"
She heard Chad call out her name and she turned, seeing him run into the lobby. They came together as naturally as wind and rain, clinging to each other.
"How is she?" he whispered against her ear, his voice as fragile as she felt.
She drew back. "In surgery. That's all I know. But she'll be fine. Bullets can't stop a storm."
"She's not as tough as she pretends to be. We both know that, don't we, Kate?"
She swallowed, nodded. In an awkward silence they stood together, bound by the invisible threads of their mutual concern. She saw it in his eyes, as clear as day; he did love Tully, and he was scared. "I better go call my mom and dad. They'll want to be here."
She waited for him to respond, but he just remained there, glassy-eyed, his hands flexing into fists at his sides like a gunslinger who might soon have to draw his weapon. With a tired smile, she walked away. As she passed Johnny, she couldn't help but say, "That's how real people help each other through hard times."
At the bank of pay phones, she put in four quarters and dialed home. When her dad answered—thank God it wasn't her mother; Kate would have lost it then—she gave him the news and hung up.
She turned around and Johnny was there, waiting for her. "I'm sorry."
"You should be."
"One of the things about this business, Katie, is that you learn to compartmentalize, to put the story first. It's a hazard of the trade."
"It's always about the story with people like you and Tully." She left him standing there and went to the sofa, where she sat down. Bowing her head, she prayed again.
After a moment she felt him come up beside her. When he didn't say anything, she looked up.
He didn't move, didn't even blink, but she could see how tense he was. He seemed to be holding on to his composure by a rapidly fraying thread. "You're tougher than you look, Mularkey."
"Sometimes." She wanted to say that love gave her strength, especially during a time like this, but she was afraid to even say the word while she was looking at him.
He sat down slowly beside her. "When did you get to know me so well?"
"It's a small office."
"That's not it. No one else knows me like you do." He sighed and leaned back. "I did put her in danger."
"She wouldn't have it any other way," she conceded. "We both know that."
"I know, but . . ."
When he let his sentence trail off, she looked at him. "Do you love her?"
He didn't respond at all, just sat there, leaning back, with his eyes closed.
She couldn't stand it. Now that she'd finally dared to ask the question, she wanted it answered. "Johnny?"
He reached over for her, put an arm around her shoulder, and drew her to him. She sank into the comfort he offered. It felt as natural as breathing being beside him like this, though she knew how dangerous that feeling was.
There, saying nothing more, they sat together through the long, empty hours of the night. Waiting.
Tully came awake slowly, taking stock of her surroundings: white acoustic-tile ceiling, bars of fluorescent lighting, silver rails on her bed, and a tray beside her.
Memories trickled into her consciousness: Beacon Hill. The mini-mart. She remembered the gun being pointed at her. And the pain.
"You'll do anything to get attention, won't you?" Kate stood by the door, wearing a pair of baggy UW sweatpants and an old Greek Week T-shirt. As she approached the bed, tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away impatiently. "Damn. I swore I wouldn't cry."
"Thank God you're here." Tully hit the button on her bed control until she was sitting up
"Of course I'm here, you idiot. Everyone is here. Chad, Mutt, Mom, Dad. Johnny. He and my dad have been playing cards for hours and talking about the news. Mom has made at least two new afghans. We've been so worried."
"Was I good?"
Kate laughed at that even as tears spilled down her cheeks. "That would be your first question. Johnny said you kicked Jessica Savitch's ass."
"I wonder if 60 Minutes will want to interview me."