She choked out a mirthless laugh and looked down at her mother, so close to death it literally could happen any moment.
“And this is your response.” She shuddered at the thought. “My mother on a vent with a hole in her head. As proof of existence, this is not your best work. You failed.” The tears spilled freely now. “You failed utterly and completely.” She ground out the words. “Thanks for nothing.”
The door opened.
Kate turned, expecting Tessa but it was Marlene, with her clipboard against her hip and her face composed.
“I’m so sorry, hon, but we need to do suctioning, a line change, and neuro check. About twenty minutes. I’m going to ask you to step out and take a break.”
Kate rose and swiped at her eyes. “Of course.”
Marlene paused at the foot of the bed and looked at Kate with kindness and a sad smile. “You’re doing fine, honey. You’re doing exactly what she needs.”
Kate bent over the bed and kissed her mother on the forehead, on the side without the bandage, the way her mother had kissed her ten thousand times in her life, and she straightened, got her bag, then went to the door.
In the corridor, the fluorescent light was bright enough to make her wince. An orderly at the far end of the hall pushed a machine on wheels. She leaned against the closed door and sighed, more mad than sad.
Mad at life, at the situation, at the loss, and at Eli’s God, who shouldnothave let this happen.
Not long after sunrise, Eli and Maggie came to relieve Tessa and Kate at the hospital. Tessa made her way back to her car, noticing it still smelled like the donuts and coffee she’d taken in for her sister. Just as she pulled on her seatbelt, her phone vibrated with a call from Dusty.
“Hi,” she said, digging for brightness over exhaustion.
“Hey, babe. How’s Jo Ellen?”
“Stable. ICP’s holding at seventeen. They’re going to try to wake her on Tuesday if the numbers stay where they are.” She closed her eyes and leaned back. “How’s Olive?”
“She did fine all night. Never heard a peep.” The three of them were staying in the first-floor guest room, the very tucked-away suite where Tessa had secretly hidden many months ago when she was between jobs, homes, and lives.
And now look at her, just six months later—staying in the same room with her husband next to her and their soon-to-be-adopted daughter “camping” on a blow-up mattress on the floor. Because life was funny and unpredictable like that.
“That’s good,” she said. “Tell her I’ll be back soon. But fair warning, there’s a nap in my immediate future.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “At least, that’s the plan.”
“That’s not the plan anymore, I’m afraid.”
Tessa’s stomach did the thing it had been doing regularly for the last sixteen hours, dropping with fear and panic. “What happened?”
“Lynda just called. She’s on her way to the house.”
“The…our house? In Miramar?”
“Yeah, she’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’ll be there in five.”
“Why?” Tessa asked. “We haven’t even had it cleaned out yet. Why is she coming?”
“She wants to walk it with me, and she wants you there for a conversation.”
“Oh, God.” Tessa’s heart tumbled. “That’s not good.”
“It might be,” he said, trying—maybe failing—to sound optimistic. “The storm could have changed things.”
“Could have? Dusty, we don’t have a home!”
“We’re living large at the Summer House, Tess. Olive’s not in school, nothing’s changed but our location.”
Cringing at what it could mean, she started the car and put it in reverse. “I’m on my way. Oh, wait. Who has Olive?” She groaned. “I can’t believe I forgot to ask. What kind of mother am I?”
“Yesterday and overnight, you were the daughter, not the mother,” he said in full therapist mode, which did always calm her. “Olive is with Meredith and Emma, and there was talk of playing dress-up. She’s in good, safe hands, well-loved and, by now, probably in high heels.”
