“Hospice is one option,” she said. “Any trained, attentive nurse would also be fine. Someone who can perform a quick daily check-in to chart her vitals and make sure she’s eating. The amount of care and attention can be increased as needed. Do you have any other questions?”
I shook my head as my mind filled with words I couldn’t speak. There wasn’t enough time in the day to get half the answers I wanted, and the waiting room was full of other people in need of a doctor.
My mom was comfortable and stable. Too many others were not.
Dr. Bartlet took her leave.
“Shit,” I whispered.
Alicia rounded the chair to crouch in front of me. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, still searching for my voice.
“I’m going to call Camilla,” she said. “I’ll give her the update and let her know you’re ... working through the blow.”
The room was eerily quiet without Alicia in it. I stared at Mom and examined the machines standing along her headboard.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered.About your health. About my real dad.
I supposed she didn’t trust me with her secrets. And these were big ones, not easy to say aloud.
I hovered a hand over hers, longing to share my strength, to let her know I was here and she wasn’t alone. But she wouldn’t want my touch, so I held my own hand on my lap. If Mom was awake, she’d tell me to leave. The ache in my desperate heart grew.
“Why won’t you let me know you?” I asked.Why don’t you want to know me?
I pulled the photo of my biological father from my pocket and examined it closely. “How did you meet?” I asked. I wasn’t sure whom I was asking, Mom or the photo. Both were equally unlikely to answer. “What did you have in common?” I continued. “Did you communicate in English?” Or was Mom also secretly fluent in French? “How long were you together?”Were you in love?
I had so many questions, and our time was limited now. I didn’t have twenty more years to convince her I was worth her time. I had to make the days count.
My breath quickened, and my stomach churned. Heat licked across my chest and up my neck to my cheeks.
I could fix this. I couldn’t stop it, but I could help. I could slow the process. I could clean Mom’s house and fill her fridge with healthy foods. I could find her hidden flasks and bottles and dump them down the drain.
I’d hire a home health aide immediately and get them on standby.
Dad left her with excellent insurance coverage. I just had to take control.
My mother would not die drunk and alone. She deserved so much better than that. Even if she didn’t think so.
Chapter Five
Four weeks later, I pulled into the parking lot at our country club, in no mood to spend time with my husband. Wednesday was our long-standing date night, wherein we fulfilled our obligation as club members to meet a monthly spend quota in the dining room. It also provided a grand opportunity for Robert to promote his family-man persona, publicly and to the desired crowd.
I checked the time as I crawled the lot in search of an available space. Robert hated tardiness, and I was sure to get a lecture on punctuality if a spot didn’t open soon. The wind picked up as I circled. Strings of white bistro bulbs bobbed on tree limbs along the pavement’s perimeter.
A storm was coming.
I really didn’t want to get caught in it.
The taillights of a Porsche illuminated before me, and I hit my signal to claim the space. Victory curved my lips as I parked only a few yards from the building’s front door.
I savored the small win before climbing out and hurrying into the clubhouse.
A group of men on their way out paused to let me pass. One held the door politely. Another offered an appreciative nod as I entered. On any other night, the small bit of attention might’ve buoyed me, but I was far too distracted tonight.
Mom was home from the hospital with round-the-clock care. I’d hired a nurse to look after her, but she hadn’t spoken since the dayshe told me about my biological father. I couldn’t help wondering if keeping that secret had been the only thing keeping her in motion. When I’d told Robert about her hospitalization, he made it clear that I was to utilize her existing health care to its fullest, because we weren’t contributing any funds to the cause.
Unfortunately, her insurance didn’t cover the amount of care she needed. So, I’d paid with my hidden savings. I blamed Robert for that.
