by Terri DuLong
Adam was shaking his head. “No, Monica, you have that wrong. We didn’t agree not to have children. You indicated that you were pretty sure you didn’t want any—and I supported your decision.”
“Oh,” was all I could manage to say, and I looked up to see a smile cross my husband’s face.
He reached across the table for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Are you saying you’ve changed your mind? You’d like to get pregnant?”
“I think so. Maybe.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I’m not really sure. Maybe Clarissa did.”
“Clarissa?” Adam said with surprise.
“Yeah, ever since she found out that Zoe’s getting a baby brother, she’s been dropping hints about having a brother or sister of her own.”
“I did catch a few of those hints, but I didn’t think you were paying any attention to them.”
“I guess I was paying more attention than I thought. Both of us had no siblings. While that’s certainly not the worst thing in the world, being an only child can be lonely. You have nobody to share your history with—only childhood friends, if you stayed in touch.”
“Very true,” Adam agreed.
“I think too my change of feeling might have to do with the fact that I’m not such a bad stepmom after all. I’m beginning to think that everyone was right—kids don’t come with a manual, so you learn as you go along. Now, of course, I understand that a baby would be a whole lot different than raising a nine-year-old, but…since I haven’t done too badly with Clarissa and I’ve really enjoyed learning to be a mom to her, well, there just might be some hope that I could be a real mom. Maybe I was wrong when I thought I might be one of those women who just shouldn’t attempt motherhood.”
“Like Sybile?” Adam said softly.
I nodded. “Yeah…and like Carrie Sue.”
A huge smile now covered Adam’s face and he squeezed my hand again. “I love you so much, Monica. I always respected your possible choice of never having a child with me. You were honest from the beginning on how you felt about this, and I accepted that. I loved you way too much not to. However, if you would like us to have a child together, my answer is yes, definitely yes.”
In that moment I didn’t think I could possibly love Adam any more than I did, and I also hadn’t realized how much I desperately wanted to create a new life with him—a part of both of us.
I swiped at the moisture in my eyes and smiled. “Okay. Okay, then. I will not be starting my next cycle of pills in two days. That’s the end of those.”
Adam brought my hand to his lips. “And think of all the fun we’ll have making this happen,” he said, winking at me.
47
Monday afternoon Adam and I were sitting at an outdoor coffee shop. The weather had been spring-perfect during our stay. Dogwoods and azaleas were in full bloom all over Augusta, creating a riot of color.
I felt the warm sun on my back and smiled. All was right in my world. Now that Adam and I had had the discussion about pregnancy, it was like a weight had been lifted from me. I was still surprised by the fact that getting pregnant was something I wanted even more than I realized. For so long I had convinced myself that like my grandmother, I just wasn’t cut out to be a mother, but when Clarissa came into my life she made me see I was wrong.
“So what other shopping do you want to do this afternoon?” Adam asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
“I just wanted to get something for Clarissa. Maybe we could browse the shops along Broad Street.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” he said, taking the last sip of his coffee. “All set?”
I stood up and reached for his hand. “Yup.”
A shop called Once in Time caught my eye. “Let’s try there,” I said, pointing to a display of antique dolls in the window.
Stepping inside, I inhaled the wonderful scent of lavender. The small shop had tables with artfully arranged lamps, potpourri, lace tablecloths, and assorted antique items. Dolls with bisque faces perched on swings that hung from the ceiling.
“Hello,” a woman said, walking toward us. “Looking for anything in particular?”
“Just browsing,” I told her. “You have a lovely shop.”
“Thank you. All of the items have come from estate sales and many have a history or story behind them.”
“Oh, that’s interesting,” I said as my gaze caught a table at the back of the shop with music boxes and I walked toward them.
I was immediately drawn to a porcelain egg-shaped design. A base of white was surrounded with a perimeter consisting of four rows of pearls and gold braid. The open egg shape was attached to the base with gold filigree, and more pearls and gold decorated the egg top. But it was what was inside the oval egg that drew my attention. A young girl, dressed in a period Victorian frock, a large lavender bow holding back her hair, and standing beside her looking up with adoration was a cream-colored dog that was a replica of Billie.
“Oh, Adam, look,” I whispered, reaching out to gently touch the top of the music box.
“That certainly looks like Billie with Clarissa, doesn’t it?”
“That’s exactly what I thought.” I picked it up, found the turnkey beneath the base, and wound it a few times. The haunting melody of “Amazing Grace” filled the shop as shivers ran through me. That was the song Sybile had insisted we play at her funeral—about being lost and then found. “Oh, my God,” I said.
Adam must have remembered me telling him this, because he nodded. “A coincidence?” he questioned.
“I don’t know, but it’s certainly uncanny.” I turned around to find the shop owner watching us. “Do you know the history on this piece?”
“I do,” she said. “It’s one of my favorite items, but let me get the book and read it to you.”
She went behind the counter and produced a large, leather-bound journal. Skimming through the pages, she nodded. “Here it is. This particular piece has been here since I opened four years ago, and I’ve never understood why it hasn’t sold. It’s a bit pricey, but not outrageous. I obtained it from an estate sale and always felt bad that there was no family left from the original owner, because it really was an heirloom and should have been passed on.”
“Is that all you know about it?” I asked.
“No, when I purchased it from the owner’s attorney he gave me this paper that went with it.” The woman removed the paper from an envelope and began to read. “Given to my beloved daughter, Abigail, age ten, September, nineteen twenty, when we almost lost you to pneumonia.”
My hand flew to my face. “That’s terrible and so sad.”
The woman smiled. “Actually, it’s a very nice story. The woman’s attorney explained to me that what had been related to him was that the outcome for the daughter didn’t look good. However, within a few days of purchasing this music box and placing it at the child’s bedside, she began to improve and had a full recovery.”
“Are you saying it has magical qualities?”
She shrugged. “Who am I to question? I can only pass on the story that was told to me and the history that goes with the music box.”
I looked up at Adam and saw him nod.
“Well, it’s found a very special home now,” he said. “For our daughter. Could you wrap it for us, please?”
A smile crossed the woman’s face. “Certainly, and call me silly, but I can’t help but feel it’s been here all this time just waiting for you.”
After we left the shop we decided to stroll through the Riverwalk. We had gone there the day before and I loved the quiet beauty. It was a two-tiered park that ran along the Savannah River, filled with leafy trees, flowering bushes, and benches to sit and gaze at the water.
Holding Adam’s hand, I watched a boat lazily make its way down the river. “Let’s sit on that bench up there for a while. It’s such a gorgeous day and I really like this place.”
After we’d been sitting for a few minutes, Adam said, “So I take it y
ou’re enjoying your stay in Augusta?”
I felt his arm go around my shoulder and leaned into it. “This has been such a wonderful time. I love the town itself, but being here with you is what’s made it so special. So yes, I’m really enjoying Augusta.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Good, because we still have another full day tomorrow—our last one.”
I sighed, drinking in the goodness of what we shared.
At that moment, Adam’s cell phone rang and he flipped it open. “Mom? Is everything okay?”
I glanced at my watch—just past three. Clarissa would be finishing up a program that the library had arranged for the children for the week of spring break.
“What? When did this happen?”
I saw him grip the phone tighter and I knew by the worried expression on his face that something was wrong.
“What is it?” I whispered.
Sliding the phone away from his mouth, he said, “Clarissa’s sick.”
“Okay, go ahead, Mom. I’m listening. Right, well, of course you did the right thing. Oh, dear God, ICU?”
I saw his face crumple, and all of a sudden I got a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
He stood up and indicated we were leaving as he continued to listen to Opal on the other end of the line. “Yes, yes, put him on.”
Keeping pace with Adam, I walked beside him toward the parking lot.
“Yes, hello,” I heard him say before he paused again. “Of course, whatever you think is best. Absolutely. Is she awake?” Another pause. “I see. Okay, well, as you know, we’re in Augusta, Georgia.” Adam swung his wrist up to look at his watch. “We’ll need about an hour and we’ll be on the road, and the drive is about six hours. Okay, thank you. Mom? Okay, we’re heading back to the Partridge Inn now to check out. I’ll call you on your cell once we get on the road to get an update. You’re not there alone, are you? Oh, good. Okay. Love you too.”
I held my breath waiting for Adam to explain what had happened. He leaned against the car, dropped his face into his hands, and began to sob. My arms went around him.
Attempting to compose himself he said, “Clarissa wasn’t feeling well yesterday. Just a headache and complained of feeling tired. This morning she complained of a stiff neck and she had a fever, so my mom didn’t let her go to the library. She called the pediatrician and he said to bring her to Shands right away.” He stopped to take a breath and shook his head. “The doctor thinks it could be bacterial meningitis.”
The bottom suddenly fell out of my world.
He zapped the remote, unlocking the doors, and we jumped in.
“Oh, God, Adam. What are they doing for her? Is she awake?”
“He said it was good that my mother got Clarissa there so fast. They started IV antibiotics on her right away, because he suspected meningitis from the symptoms. No, she’s not awake. He explained they’ve sedated her to keep her quiet. She’s in intensive care and he needed my permission to do a spinal tap, which will tell us for sure if it’s bacterial meningitis.”
The next hour passed in a blur. Adam checked out while I threw our clothes into the luggage. When we got to the lobby with the bellman pushing the cart, the manager came from behind the desk, extending his hand.
“I’m so terribly sorry about your daughter’s emergency. Please know I’ll have her in my prayers.”
Both Adam and I mumbled a thank-you and headed to the car.
We were on I-16 heading toward I-95 when he passed me his cell phone. “Could you dial my mom’s cell number, please?”
I did and then passed the phone back to him.
“Okay,” he said. “We’re on our way. Any change there?” He was silent listening to Opal’s voice on the other end of the line. “Oh, they think it’s bacterial meningitis? Now what?” More silence. “Okay, I’ll call you in a couple hours, but if there’s any change whatsoever, you call us.”
I placed my hand on his leg. “They did the spinal tap?”
He nodded. “Yeah, and it looks definitive. They’re now doing other tests to identify the bacteria. They’ll culture the fluid and have those results in about two days. This will determine which antibiotics are effective against that particular bacterium. Then they’ll be able to adjust the antibiotic they’ve already started if they need to.”
I was having a hard time digesting all of this. My mind seemed foggy and I refused to let myself think any further than the next moment.
“Who’s with your mother at the hospital?”
“Hank. He’s the one that drove them. After the pediatrician said they needed to get Clarissa there right away, she called Hank. And Dora took Billie back to her house.”
I felt Adam give me a squeeze as his hand encircled mine, and for the first time that I could remember I didn’t feel the warm security his touch had always given me.
48
Forty-five minutes later we were merging onto I-95 following the signs for Brunswick / Jacksonville when my cell phone rang. I answered to hear Dora’s voice.
“Monica? Are you and Adam okay? Where’re you at?”
“We’re scared to death about Clarissa. Just got onto I-95. Any update?” I wished that my mother wasn’t in Paris. I knew how confusing medical jargon could be, and it would have been nice to have a registered nurse at hand to fill in the gaps.
“No, I just spoke to Opal. Clarissa is still sleeping.”
“My God, Dora, this all happened so fast. Do you think she’ll be okay?”
“I called your mother, Monica, to let her know what’s going on. She said meningitis comes on that quickly, that’s why it’s so important to get treatment right away, but the problem is that we have to wait for culture and blood results to be certain of the correct antibiotic.”
I repeated my question. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”
There was a pause before she said, “Monica, I can’t truthfully answer that. It’s serious. Very serious. It can lead to death within hours, and that’s why treatment is started right away without waiting for the results of the tests.”
I gripped the phone tighter. She was right about how serious this was, and it was something I’d never experienced before. “I just thank God Opal was with her and knew exactly what to do.” Would I have known under the same circumstances or just brushed it off as a minor flu?
“I want you to know she has an excellent doctor and she’s in an excellent hospital. I have Billie here with me and we’ve set up a phone tree to keep calls to a minimum. I’m the one who checks in with Opal, and then I call Saren and Grace to give them updates.”
“Thank you. Thank you for everything. Is Billie okay?”
“She’s confused, of course, wondering where Clarissa is, and I’m sure she can’t figure out why she’s here with me, but she’s fine. Only ate a little supper this evening, but that’s to be expected.”
“Right. Okay, thanks again, Dora. I’ll be in touch.”
I disconnected and filled Adam in on what she had to say—but I neglected the part about how serious this was. I figured he’d find out soon enough.
After stopping briefly at a rest area on I-95 for the bathroom and vending-machine coffee, we pulled into the parking lot of Shands Hospital at exactly 10:37.
We raced to the emergency room entrance and asked directions for intensive care. Stepping off the elevator, we saw Opal and Hank huddled together side by side on a sofa in the waiting room. Opal jumped up when she saw us walking toward her and pulled Adam and me into her arms.
“Oh, thank God you’re here. There’s still no change since we spoke an hour ago.” She dabbed at her eyes with a crumpled tissue as Hank came up and put his hand on her shoulder.
“Can we see her?” Adam asked.
“Yes, of course, come on,” she said, leading us to the desk at the nurses’ station.
Opal introduced us to the nurse in charge.
“I’m Regina, the charge nurse for this shift. Let me get Clarissa’s nurse.”
She
returned with an attractive brunette wearing blue scrubs and a black stethoscope dangling from around her neck.
“Hi, I’m Tara. I’ve been with Clarissa since seven this evening. There hasn’t been much change since I came on duty. Her last temp was still a hundred and three, we’re running in some IV antibiotics, and she was having a little difficulty breathing earlier so the doctor ordered some oxygen to make her more comfortable. I’m afraid at this point, that’s all I can tell you. But I want you to be aware when you go in to see her that she’s hooked up to lots of monitors and there’s lots of tubes, so don’t be alarmed. Dr. Sutter is still in the building and he wanted me to page him when you arrived so he could speak with you. Do you have any questions?”
I stood there mute while Adam shook his head and said, “No, not right now. Thank you very much. You’ll let us know when the doctor arrives?”
Tara nodded. “I’ll come and get you. Just go through these doors and Clarissa’s bed is the first one on the left.”
Adam turned around to Opal. “Mom, you’ve been here all day and night. I want Hank to take you home now. Monica and I will be staying.”
Opal dabbed at her eyes again. “Are you sure, Adam? I can stay.”
“No, I’m positive. You look exhausted. You’ll get her home, Hank?”
“Absolutely. Don’t you worry. Come on, Opal.”
My mother-in-law embraced both Adam and me and then allowed Hank to lead her to the elevator.
“Ready?” Adam said.
I reached for his hand and nodded. We pushed the double doors open and walked into a large, semicircular room. In the center was what I assumed was the nurses’ station. A U-shaped area, with office chairs on wheels, lots of counter space and many screens that blinked as lines and numbers ran past. Five nurses sat at the counter looking through paperwork. Tara saw us and nodded, then resumed watching the monitor in front of her.