: Chapter 25

It was nearly one in the morning by the time they let me into Mom’s hospital room to see her. Visiting hours be damned, I think they realized I wasn’t going to leave until I could see her in person. And then, once I finally did get shown to her room, there was no way they could pry me away. I was there for good, a permanent fixture plastered to her side.

A large white bandage circled her head. She’d received a concussion but that wasn’t the worst of her injuries. I guess whenever she’d fallen, she’d rebroken the not-fully-healed hip from five months before. What was worse, some bone marrow had escaped and gotten into her bloodstream. The doctors had been forced to perform immediate surgery to keep the marrow from reaching her heart.

If I hadn’t found her when I had and gotten her to a hospital when I did, she could’ve died right there on those stairs. If my night had gone well and Isobel hadn’t pushed me away, my mother would be dead.

I wasn’t sure what to think of that. The world worked in mysterious ways. It left me rattled to the core. I’d almost lost my mother tonight, and the only reason she was here was because of two nasty women who’d hurt Isobel. It was hard to wrap my brain around that.

Sitting in the chair next to Mom and holding her hand while she slept peacefully after her successful surgery, I thought up every what-if and could-have-been, and none of them ended with a pleasant result. I had no idea why she’d tried to leave the apartment, especially after I asked her to stay in, but that would’ve led to the best outcome, if she’d just stayed inside.

When I exhausted myself trying to come up with alternate outcomes, I called Justin and Alice. Neither sibling answered their phone, so I left a message for both, letting them know what had happened. I still had no idea how to get hold of the other three, and I didn’t even want to talk to Victoria, so I didn’t bother trying to find them. I did my duty trying to update them; the rest was on them.

Mom woke about nine the next morning. I’d been dozing, slouching in the most uncomfortable position when I heard my name being croaked. Jumping, I sprang upright and wiped my hands over my face before I realized her eyes were open and she was watching me.

“Mom,” I breathed, sitting forward and taking her hand. “You’re awake. Are you okay? In pain? Do you need a drink? I’ll call a nurse.”

I started to reach for the call-nurse button, but Mom waved me silent. “A nurse was just in here taking my vitals.” Her voice was weak and tired and her eyes were half-open, filled with exhaustion, but her words were clear and her smile was genuine. “I’m okay,” she assured me.

She was far from okay. She was pale, her hip was broken—again—and now we had a concussion to handle. When she coughed, I remembered, oh yeah, and she’d bruised some ribs.

The woman was lucky she hadn’t hurt anything else—she was lucky to be alive—and yet, she was still far from being out of the woods and headed toward recovery.

Unable to stop worrying, I pressed my hand to her brow. When I sucked in a breath over how hot she felt, she waved a hand to dismiss my concerns. “Yes, I have a bit of a fever,” she said. “The nurse said she’d be back with some ibuprofen.”

I nodded and pushed more water at her. I don’t think she was thirsty, but she took a drink to humor me. And then we waited, and waited, and waited. The nurse didn’t return until over half an hour later. By then, my mother’s cheeks had flushed and a sheen of sweat coated her brow.

“Sorry it took so long to return,” she apologized, “but the results from one of Margaret’s blood tests came back, and I needed to call the doctor.”

I sat up straighter, on full alert. “Is everything okay?”

The nurse wouldn’t quite meet my gaze as she focused all her attention on giving Mom her pills. Then she cleared her throat and answered, “It looks as if there could be an infection. The doctor can talk to you more about that when he arrives.”

She left soon afterward, and I glanced at my mother, whose head was lulling to the side as she began to fall asleep. I reached out again to touch her brow. I knew there was no way the medicine could work that quickly to fight off her fever, but I swear she felt twice as hot as she had the last time I’d checked. It worried me.

She tutted softly and murmured my name as if trying to reassure me, and then she was out, sleeping fitfully between the occasional coughing.

By noon, I realized there was no way she’d make it home before the next day, and there was no way I would be able to tear myself away from her side, so I called Porter Hall.

Henry himself answered the phone. I’d been expecting Constance or maybe Mrs. Pan, but when I heard his voice, I was a little disappointed Isobel hadn’t answered instead.

After explaining to him what had happened and telling him I wasn’t sure when I’d be back to work, he was extremely understanding. And yet I still kept apologizing.

“Don’t worry about it, Shaw. Your mother needs you. I totally understand. Take as much time as you need.”

I nodded gratefully and mumbled a gruff, “Thank you.”

My mind turned to Isobel. As it had many times throughout the night while I’d been sitting there, worrying about my mother. Her dad hadn’t mentioned her. I wasn’t sure if he knew about the outcome of our date, or if he was politely not mentioning it because I had other concerns, but I wanted to hear how she was doing.

Actually, I wanted to hear her voice and talk to her for my own selfish needs. I wanted to tell her what I’d been through and heap all my worries on her, gush how scared shitless for my mother’s life I was. But I was afraid if I asked to talk to her and I heard her voice, the ache to see her would grow so strong I’d beg her to come sit with me at the hospital. I needed her, greedily wanted her with me, supporting me through this. I needed her hand wrapped around mine and her soothing rose scent in my nose.

But she was dealing with her own problems, and I didn’t want to ask her to leave home if it was too much to ask.

So I simply said, “You’ll let Isobel know?”

Her dad answered, “Yes. Yes, of course.” And I felt marginally better, hoping maybe—if she was improved from the night before—she’d come to me on her own.

After I hung up, I stared bleakly at my mother’s face while she slept. Her tossing and turning grew worse. Her coughing turned to hacking. And the doctor, who finally showed, shook his head as if to say, This isn’t good. This isn’t good at all.

More blood tests were taken, more painkillers administered, and Mom didn’t improve.

I stayed in the hospital by her side for three days straight, only leaving to find food in the cafeteria or to use the bathroom, where I splashed water onto my face as the only way to wash.

By the time Gloria appeared in the doorway of the hospital room on Tuesday, I was sure my hair was a nasty matted greaseball and my clothes—or rather Ezra’s clothes—were about to wrinkle right off me.

I blinked at her from bloodshot, exhausted eyes and shook my head. “Gloria? What’re you doing here?” How had she even learned where I was?

She swept into the room, her hazel eyes full of worry as she shifted her gaze between me and my sleeping mother. “I went to your apartment, but no one answered the door. A neighbor finally told me about an ambulance they saw the other night, loading your mom onto a stretcher. My God, Shaw.” She sat in the chair next to mine and took Mom’s pale hand as if genuinely worried about her. “What happened? And why are you wearing a suit?”

It didn’t matter that she wasn’t my favorite person on earth; she really did seem to adore my mother, so I ignored the suit question and explained everything Mom had been through. I even set my hand on her shoulder when she turned teary-eyed.

“She could’ve died,” Gloria choked out.

I swallowed painfully and nodded. “She’s a fighter, though.” I turned back to Mom. “She’ll fight it off.”

“Of course she will. She has something very precious to fight for.”

When I realized she was referring to me, I sent her an exhausted glance, not in the mood to deal with any kind of advance from her.

But she merely sighed. “Oh, Shaw.” She squeezed my arm. “You look awful. How long have you been here with her?”

I shook my head, not answering, but I was sure I looked bad. My muscles were sore from sleeping and sitting all day in the hard chair at Mom’s bedside, and my stomach hurt from eating nothing but vending machine food.

“Go home,” Gloria urged gently. “Take a shower, steal a nap, get some real food into your system. I’ll sit here with her for a couple hours.”

I started to shake my head no, but of course Mom chose that moment to wake from her nap. Gloria I could have easily denied, but when my mother urged me to go home for a while as well, I couldn’t tell her no. So I left, reluctantly.

I was only gone a few hours. I cleaned up and fixed myself some food but no way could I sleep. Not while my mother was still in the hospital, fighting an infection.

When I returned, Gloria was actually in a rush to leave.

“She slept most of the time,” she said, rising to her feet and grabbing her purse as soon as I entered the room.

I paused, blinking at her. Mom was coughing in her sleep, but there didn’t seem to be any other reason why she’d chase someone away the way Gloria seemed so eager to leave. But she hurried by me, not even making eye contact as she mumbled a harried farewell, saying she had somewhere to be, and disappeared out the door. She hadn’t even given me a chance to thank her for sitting with my mom.

I stared after her, not upset about her being gone but pondering why she’d been so eager to go.

Curious. Very curious.

Then, with a sigh, I turned back to Mom and settled into my chair beside her.

Another two days passed. Gloria never returned, and Isobel didn’t appear. I thought about her though. More than once, I was tempted to call to see how she was doing, to tell her how I was doing. But after the way we’d left off on Saturday, I was uncertain how to proceed from there. I missed her, though. I missed her with an ache that struck at the oddest moments. Whenever I felt my lowest, I wanted her there to help me through. Whenever Mom had a good moment, I wanted her there to celebrate with me. Whenever Mom was asleep and I was bored, I wanted her there to talk about books or her flower shop plans, or anything. I just…I wanted her there.

Thursday evening arrived before anyone else non-medical appeared in the doorway of Mom’s hospital room. My oldest sister, Alice, peered into the room before she took in Mom’s sleeping form and gasped.

“Lord,” she breathed, coming closer to gaze down at our mother with wide, surprised eyes. “She really is bad off, isn’t she?”

“She’s better than she was,” I said, not sure why I was trying to comfort Alice. I wanted to be mad at her for staying away for five days. Where the hell had she been? Why had it taken her so long to check in? Did our mother mean that little to her?

But she looked genuinely concerned as she sat next to me, and besides, she was the only sibling to show at all. So I decided I was glad to share some of the worry with her. I filled her in on all the progress Mom had made. She nodded and asked questions, then offered to help.

I nodded, grateful for the support. “I’ve been away from work for four days.” Plus, I needed to see Isobel. “Do you think you could sit with Mom tomorrow?”

Alice nodded mutely, and everything felt better.

It felt better until Friday morning, anyway, when I stopped at the gate to Porter Hall and pressed the button, requesting entrance.

They opened for me immediately, and I drove up the lane between the pear trees, eager to see Isobel, anxious to hold her in my arms and bury my face in her hair.

When Henry opened the side door and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for me as I parked, I blinked, confused. He didn’t typically stay home on Fridays. What was even more concerning was the stony expression on his face.

Something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” I asked, popping out of the truck and hurrying to meet him.

“Mr. Hollander,” he greeted, his voice hard and unyielding, his eyes the same. “Your services here are no longer required. Please vacate the premises and never come back. If you do, we’ll treat it as trespassing and have you arrested.”