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    coalescing into something intelligible. Being there, a gentle tendril of air, for only her child to feel, a nudge of encouragement, like a steadying hand at her back. She tried to picture Amelia age-progressed, missing a front tooth.
    Once she had allowed herself to go this far, she could not blinker her mind’s eye. The weddings. Annie, sliver-thin and severe in a sheath with not a sin- gle furbelow. Rory . . . dancing every dance. The births of the girls’ children . . . now, Laura instructed herself firmly, that is enough. She put her hands flat on the mirror and pushed. She could not tolerate hurtling forward, to a time when they . . . would not remem- ber her, except as an idea that would prompt a tear, perhaps if they played “Mom’s” favorite song. She had applied new concealer, and eye shadow, which she would not weep into stains.
    Crossing to the telephone, she called her mother and asked her to wake the girls. Miranda already had, and said she was just leaving the house, in any case.
    Laura then dialed her little sister, Angela. Angela was a slow waker, a source of concern to her as a third-

    year medical student. It took copious coffee and time to get her to a state of full alert.
    So Laura was not surprised when Angela did not recognize her voice at first. “Doctor MacDermott,” Angela said. “Doctor MacDermott here.”
    “It’s Laurie, Angie. Do you hear me?” “It’s Doctor MacDermott.”
    “Can I talk to Cobb, Angie?” Laura heard the phone’s muffled fall, and Cobb’s voice rising into a question as he took it up. Cobb was a surgical resident. Was Miranda sick? Or one of the girls?
    “No, it’s me,” Laura said. “I’m in the hospital and you have to explain to Angie that . . . actually, I’m dying.” Shame was her transitory sensation. It was so bald, so melodramatic.
    “Laurie, wait. This doesn’t make sense.” “I know. But it’s true.”
    “Laurie!” Cobb was that rare human, a physician with an almost comic absence of arrogance. This was what Angela, who had sworn not to become involved until she was finished with all her studies, had been

    unable to resist. He loved them all, like a fifth Mac- Dermott sibling.
    “I haven’t got much time,” Laura said. “So, Cobb, listen.”
    “I am,” he told her seriously. Cobb was solid.
    “I don’t know if this thing—Elliott will explain it— is hereditary. My father died young. He had a stroke. She has to have her blood pressure monitored and have her head examined.” Laura realized what she had said and tried to stifle a snort of laughter. “I mean, her brain scanned. For an aneurysm.”
    “I promise, Laurie,” Cobb said. “Can I put Angie on now?”
    “Laurie?” Angie’s voice was still thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?”
    “Angela, I’m so proud of you,” Laura said. “And you know I love you best of all.” She could hear Cobb’s voice murmuring behind her sister’s.
    “What? Why?” Angela began to hiccough, then wail, “Where are you? Mercy? Let me talk to the doctor.”
    “He’s out looking for help, writing e-mails to doctors

    all over the world, he is,” Laura said. “If there’s a way to help, he’ll find it. He’s very good. But you can’t get here to talk to me in person by the time this is over.”
    “I have to see you! There has to be a flight!”
    “It’s snowing. You know they’ll close the airport.” “I’ll get there!”
    “I want you to come for Christmas, whenever it’s safe to travel, and be with the girls and Elliott. And I want to tell you I love you best. I was like a mother to you, and you were my little dressup doll . . . I know this sounds schmaltzy, Angie, but I have to tell you, it’s what you think at a time like this. Your life really does go on instant replay.”
    “Laurie! Don’t! Laurie, you loved Stephen best!” She listened as Angela covered the phone and yelled to Cobb, “Get the airline on the cell phone! Get a flight for us! Now,