[Contributor 01.0] Contributor Read online

  By the time they reached the med center, she had put all of her uneasiness about Jonathan aside. Later, when things were better—if they were better—she would take the time to think about what her feelings meant. For now, her sole concern was her mother.

  "Sweetheart," her father said, standing up and enfolding her in a tight hug as soon as he laid eyes on her, his distress clearly written on his face. She almost forgave him—almost.

  "How is she?" Dara asked.

  "She's in recovery right now. She was in surgery for several hours."

  Dara blanched. "Why didn't you tell Letizia that when you sent updates?"

  "I didn't want you to worry. I didn't... I just..." Her father's face crumpled and he fell back into his chair, head in his hands. His shoulders heaved, making his whole body shake. A burst of compassion burned its way through her anger. Her parents loved one another, of that she had never had any doubt. She couldn't imagine the pain her father must be experiencing.

  "You said it, Dad, she's strong." Dara knelt before her father and put her arms around him.

  "I know, I know. I just... I feel so lost." He lifted his tear-streaked face to hers. "I didn't want you to see me like this. I tried so hard, but..."

  "You don't have to hide this from me. You love Mom and you're scared. You don't have to try to protect 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 something useful for her father.

  "Do you want me to stay?" Jonathan asked, joining her in the kitchen.

  She poured tea into a mug, her shaking hands causing several drops to scatter over the counter. "No, Jon. You have to be up tomorrow and I don't want—"

  He waved her protests away. "It doesn't matter if I don't get any sleep. I want to be here for you, if you need me."

  Taking his hand with her free one, she squeezed firmly. "That means more to me than I can say, but, really, there's no reason for you to stay. Once I take this tray to my dad, I'm going to go lie down and try to sleep."

  "Are you sure?" His brows drew together in a way she had often found endearing.

  "Yes, I am."

  "All right," he said reluctantly. "If you need anything, anything at all, I want you to call me. I don't care what time it is."

  "I will." She stood on tiptoe to give him a kiss. Just as her lips touched his, the door tone sounded.

  "Mom!" The mug slipped through her suddenly nerveless fingers and fell to the floor, shattering. She sprinted for the door, shocked when she found Letizia standing outside.

  "We were going to meet tonight. Do you remember?" Letizia asked, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

  "Yes, yes," Dara said, the adrenaline draining from her system, leaving her feeling queasy and shaken.

  "I hate to intrude at a time like this, but it's very important."

  What the hell could be so important that you show up at my door at ten o'clock on a night like this!

  Dara wanted to scream, but instead she stepped aside and allowed her master to enter the apartment.

  "I'm making some tea for my father. Please excuse me while I take his tray to him. I'll just be a minute."

  "Of course, Dara. Do whatever you need to do. I'll wait."

  Dara nodded, both surprised by and suspicious of Letizia's solicitousness.

  "Is that Letizia?" Jonathan asked as Dara entered the kitchen. He dropped the last shards of the shattered mug into the recycling chute. A fresh mug of tea sat on the tray, along with some toast and fruit.

  "What would I do without you?" she whispered, throwing herself into his arms. "And yes, it is."

  "Why is she here?"

  "I don't know. I just wish she'd go away."

  "Are you sure you don't want me to stay? What if..." His voice trailed off, as if he were unwilling or uncertain how to complete the thought.

  "No, really. Everything will be fine. Just go home now and I'll see you in the morning."

  "All right. Call me if you need me."

  "I will," she promised, and he gave her one last, quick kiss. She could hear him greeting Letizia on his way out.

/>   "I've brought you some tea," Dara said, her voice hushed, as she entered her father's room. She set the tray down and twisted her hands, uncertain what more to do.

  "Thank you," her father said faintly.

  "Please, Dad, I know it's the last thing you feel like doing, but try to eat something," she pleaded.

  "I will." His lackluster tone did little to convince her.

  "Maybe tomorrow I should stay home with you and—"

  "I'm not staying home tomorrow," he interrupted.

  "What?" she asked, astonished.

  "Dara, I can't." He turned to face her. "You heard what the doctor said about your mother. I'm...I'm trying to keep up my hope, but she has a severe head injury. I don't know if she'll ever... We can't afford for me to..."

  His expression made it obvious that he found the thoughts too horrible to contemplate. She couldn't blame him; she felt the same way. Worse yet, she knew he was right to think this way. In all likelihood, if her mother turned out okay, it would be after a very long convalescence. Magnum would want her in a long-term care facility because they wouldn't want the family to be burdened with the responsibility of caring for her. And while Dara knew that neither she nor her father would find it a burden, there would be no arguing the point. The best hope they all had was for Dara and Joshua to prove that they could care for Leona while continuing to be valuable Contributors.

  Dara realized what a long road they had ahead of them, and it made her feel so weary she wanted to curl up on her parents' bed and fall asleep like she had when she was a little girl who'd had a nightmare.

  Instead, she said, "You're right, Dad. We both need to go in tomorrow. We can go see Mom after our shifts."

  He nodded, and she noticed how red and hollow his eyes were. It was so strange and unsettling to see such vulnerability in her father. She supposed this was part of growing up, this change from the conviction that her parents were invincible and would always be there to protect her, to wanting to protect them. It made her feel much, much older than her seventeen years.

  "Try to get some sleep," she said.

  "You too."

  She bent down and kissed his cheek before heading out into the living room to face Letizia.

  Chapter 10

  "How's your mother?" Letizia asked.

  "She suffered a serious head injury and the doctors had to operate to relieve the pressure caused by the bleeding. She was resting when we left."

  "Will she be okay?" Letizia's face paled.

  Dara shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Did you want to discuss my project?"

  "What?" Letizia asked, clearly taken aback.

  "Isn't that why you wanted to meet?" Dara asked, confused as well.

  "No, Dara, no! It's just... I wanted to apologize about what I said back at headquarters. It's...it's not a good place to talk."

  Dara bristled. "Of course. All our colleagues are there and—"

  "No! Creators, you think I'm just worried about appearances?" Letizia sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Look, I know you don't want me here. I don't want to be here either—I have no business intruding on you right now."

  Dara knew she should protest, but she didn't. She refused to observe form for form's sake. It had been a long day and she had neither the energy nor the patience for it.

  "Magnum is very protective of its secrets," Letizia continued, sounding like she chose each of her words with the utmost care. "If trade secrets leaked... Well, I'm sure I don't need to tell you that it's one of the Creators' worst fears."

  "What does that have to do with me?" Dara asked, impatient for Letizia to leave.

  "It means that Magnum is very interested in the information exchanged by employees."

  "Are you saying that...that the conference rooms are observed?" Dara recoiled, appalled.

  "Not observed, no. But there are recording devices—and not just in the conference rooms either."

  "So everything I said in the room..."

  "Was being recorded, yes," Letizia confirmed.

  Panicking, Dara rose from her chair and began to pace the room. "Did I say anything? Oh, Creators." She dug her fingers into her hair, her nails scratching her scalp. Letizia looked worried.

  "I don't think so. I wanted to warn you, but obviously I couldn't. I didn't mean to sound so...cold. I was trying to be careful about what I said."

  "Why are you telling me this?" Dara asked. She stopped pacing and turned to look at Letizia. Pressing her palms hard against her skull, Dara wished she could squeeze her fears right out of her head.

  "Andersen misses nothing. I know this is a trying time for you, but I don't want you to ever forget that—ever." The ferocity of Letizia's voice stunned Dara, and her hands fell to her sides.

  "So he'll be evaluating my reaction." Dara practically spat the words.

  "Yes. I know you've got a lot on your mind, but you need to be wary. Whenever Andersen is around, LeTour is going to try his best to get to you—and he's going to be relentless. Will you be able to handle it?"

  "I don't know," Dara said honestly.

  "Well, you have to be." Though extremely unpleasant, the truth was a lifeline, and Dara was grateful. Without it, she might have fallen into a trap.

  "I'll do my best to help you," Letizia continued, "but you have got to be on your guard. I can't say it any more plainly than that."

  "Okay."

  Letizia nodded and stood up. "I hope you understand now why I thought it was necessary to meet."

  "I do, and I'm grateful. I don't want to drag either of us down."

  Shaking her head, Letizia looked at her sadly. "It's not about that, Dara. I'm not here because I'm afraid for my career."

  "I didn't mean to offend you," Dara said, her cheeks flaming. "But I wanted you to know—"

  "No, I mean it. I'm not worried about my career. If there's one thing I've learned over the years, it's how to be a survivor. But, well, I'm sorry to say I'm not entirely convinced you have that ability."

  "You must think I'm an idiot." Dara could no longer meet her master's eyes. She couldn't believe how incredibly naive she'd been, thinking that all her hard work and effort would guarantee her a safe and cozy life.

  "I don't think you're an idiot," Letizia said gently. "I think you're a young woman who has no concrete idea how the world operates. I didn't either. It's not something you're taught in school, so unless you have parents as ruthless as LeTour's, it's something you have to learn from experience."

  Biting her lip, Dara nodded. "Why did you decide to tell me all this?"

  Letizia looked chagrined. "I really do seem like I'm made of stone, don't I? I'm sorry about that. It's a defense mechanism—one you'd probably better learn as well. Allowing people to get too close can be very risky."

  "You didn't answer my question," Dara pressed.

  With a sigh, Letizia answered, "I guess it's because you remind me a lot of myself."

  "I do?" Dara couldn't conceal her surprise.

  "Yes, and I realized that having to watch that innocence being crushed all over again is...it's devastating."

  "You're the only person who's been honest with me."

  "Try to remember that it's not that everyone is necessarily dishonest. Sometimes they're genuinely unaware. Think of all the training you've received. There was a reason for it."

  Dara nodded. It seemed like she'd aged at least a hundred years in the space of this one day. "I'll be careful."

  "I'm sorry. I didn't want to add to your burden." Letizia looked genuinely worried. She twisted her hands and shifted her weight from foot to foot. For the first time, Dara felt like she saw the actual substance of her master, and not just some shiny veneer.

  "I'd have been a lot more burdened if you hadn't told me and I'd had to learn the hard way."

  The look of relief on Letizia's face told Dara her master felt absolved of her guilt.

  "I'll see you tomorrow," Dara said, heading for the door.

  Letizia paused at the threshold. "I k
now going in is last thing you want to do, but it's the wisest course of action."

  "That doesn't make it easier."

  "Nope. It's a load of shit," Letizia said, coaxing a startled laugh from Dara.

  "Yes, it is."

  "Try to get some sleep."

  "I'm not sure I ever will again."

  "Welcome to the wonderful world of a Contributor," Letizia sighed.

  Chapter 11

  When she woke the next morning, Dara was a physical and emotional wreck. Exhaustion had finally overcome her, and she had managed to get in a couple of hours of sleep. However, it had done absolutely nothing for her, thanks to a string of nightmares that left her tossing and turning.

  Stumbling out into the kitchen, she found her father leaning heavily against the counter, his forehead propped against his hand. The dark circles and heavy bags under his eyes attested to the fact that he had also had precious little sleep.

  "Anything?" Dara asked, her stomach fluttering with nervous anticipation.

  As if waking up from a very deep sleep, Joshua slowly raised his head and looked at his daughter, his expression blank for several seconds until her question penetrated. He shook his head.

  "No. I talked to the doctor and her condition is still the same," he said, his voice hoarse from a combination of lack of sleep and tears, the evidence of them still visible on his cheeks.

  Dara wondered how someone could age twenty years overnight. Joshua's face was unshaven, his hair a mess, and his shirt only half-tucked into his slacks.

  "Dad, are you sure you can handle going in today?" she asked gently.

  "Yes, yes. I have to." His voice held a slight edge of panic.

  "Well, if you're sure..."

  "I am." He shook himself visibly, his eyes clearing. "Dara, you're so young."

  Puzzled, she studied him. "And?"

  "I...I hate to have to ask you this, but...but your mother...I can't...if Magnum decides she needs long-term care—"

  "We won't let that happen, Dad. I promise." Dara's voice was soft but firm. She went over to him and took his hand. "You don't have to worry about anything. You couldn't stop me from helping take care of her, no matter how hard you tried."