The drowsy remnants of sleep vanished from his eyes at the empty pillow beside his. His gaze began a swift arc of the room and stopped abruptly at the sight of Tamara sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked beneath her, leaning over the backrest to gaze out the window. “You’re awake kind of early this morning, aren’t you?” He tossed back the covers and swung out of bed. “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep,” she responded absently without turning to look at him. It had happened several times in recent days, Bick remembered. He had already guessed the cause, since her mother’s condition had deteriorated rapidly in the past two weeks. He had noticed when he had paid his regular visit on Saturday. Now Tamara was beginning to lose sleep because of it, but he had been reluctant to discuss it with her, not wanting to upset her more. But it bothered him the way Tamara sat staring out the window while he dressed, as if maintaining some silent vigil. He walked to the sofa and laid a hand on her shoulder.
