by BETH KERY
Niall glanced up when her father approached her in the waiting room of Covenant General Hospital. They’d done nothing but sit and wait since arriving four hours ago.
She accepted the cup of coffee that Niall Chandler Sr. handed her. Niall was a family name, passed on for seven generations of Chandler men. Since Niall and Alexis Chandler hadn’t supplied the required male, their baby girl had been the recipient of that particular family honor.
The original Niall Chandler had made a lasting name for himself almost two hundred years ago by building a financial empire for his descendants through several activities, the milder of which was usury and the more stringent of which would be called extortion and loan-sharking in this day and age. Niall had mixed feelings about reverting to her maiden name a year ago. She’d wanted a fresh start, but the name Chandler was associated with almost as much emotional baggage as her married name.
Almost.
For well over a century now the Chandlers had been squeaky clean in regard to their business activities. Still, the taint lingered sufficiently that Niall’s father didn’t take too kindly to his daughter’s tongue-in-cheek references to their august ancestor’s checkered past.
“You and Mom should go home,” Niall told her father quietly.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alexis Chandler said briskly. Her erect carriage hadn’t wilted in the slightest during the interminable wait. Alexis worked out for two hours every day at her health club. Her ramrod-straight posture came from a lifetime of riding horses. She rode rain or shine, every day without fail.
Niall knew firsthand just how strong her mother was, both mentally and physically. Niall herself practiced a fairly rigorous yoga routine, but she nowhere near approximated the magnitude of her mother’s fitness and energy level. During the crisis three years ago—at the frenzied heights of Matthew Manning’s trial—Alexis had been as staunch and solid as a marble pillar while Niall’s world crumbled around her to ashes.
Her mother removed the lid from the coffee cup and blew on the steaming liquid delicately. “We wouldn’t dream of leaving when a family member is in a crisis, Niall. You know that.”
“There’s nothing we can do here, Mom, least of all give comfort,” Niall said wearily. She’d sat like this in waiting rooms too many times not to feel the sense of suffocating helplessness press upon her. This was all part and parcel of the chaos of Stephen’s life, something that Niall knew all too intimately.
Her mother and father didn’t know the half of it.
“They said there was no permanent damage done,” Niall continued. “I was considering going myself.”
Alexis’s hand froze in the act of replacing the lid on her coffee. Her expression was rigid with disbelief when she met Niall’s gaze. “How can you say that? Would you really feel right about walking out of this hospital? Is it because that woman—What’s her name? Menendez?—just got here?”
Niall set her coffee cup on her knee to make it less obvious that she trembled. When would this get easier? Would it ever?
“Her name is Rose Gonzalez. She’s Stephen’s legal guardian now, Mom . . . not me,” Niall added pointedly. “I’m sorry that they contacted you this morning from Evergreen Park. You were the follow-up contact from before . . . from before Rose became his legal guardian. They must not have changed their records yet.”
“Just because you gave up the right to make his legal decisions for him doesn’t mean that you’re not Stephen’s wife, Niall,” Alexis said, her eyes glittering like a pair of cut and polished blue topazes.
Niall swallowed convulsively, keenly aware that her father listened closely to the conversation. She took a deep, fortifying breath.
“I won’t be that for long, either,” she reminded them both, even though it was her mother’s hurt, furious gaze that she met steadily while she spoke.
“Then it’s no wonder Stephen tried to commit suicide again,” Alexis said before she stood and crossed the waiting room. The full cup of coffee landed with a dull thump in the trash can.
She’ll apologize for it when she calms down, Niall assured herself repeatedly as she returned to the waiting room after a stroll around the hospital grounds. She’d told Rose Gonzalez that she would wait to speak with her before she left, but Niall didn’t think she could wait alone in that room another second after her parents’ cold departure.
Her mother’s verbal stab had hurt for many reasons, the least of which being that what she said wasn’t true. Stephen had not in fact tried to commit suicide.
Not this time.
On this particular occasion Stephen had attempted to strangle a fellow patient at the Evergreen Park Mental Hospital and then viciously attacked the two employees who tried to restrain him. He had suffered a dislocated collarbone and several severe contusions in the altercation, which is why he’d been transferred in a heavy state of sedation to Covenant General. Although suicidal behavior was the symptom that Niall’s parents chose to focus upon almost exclusively, her husband had just as frequently become aggressive and even homicidal in the past several years.
Niall possessed firsthand knowledge of both of those particular symptoms of her husband’s psychosis.
In all fairness to her parents, Niall hadn’t always been forthcoming about Stephen’s past episodes of violence toward her. It was painful enough to learn the language of mental illness and to speak of suicide openly. But Niall doubted that many people ever became comfortable talking about how their spouse had once nearly strangled them in a drunken, psychotic rage and had threatened to do something similar countless times since then.
Rose Gonzalez’s kind, open countenance was the first thing that Niall saw when she returned to the waiting room. The Illinois State Guardian always looked polished and professional in her grooming and dress. But her round face, wide forehead, colorful clothing, and plump waistline always made Niall think of a cozy kitchen and savory smells from a bubbling pot on the stove.
Nevertheless, she was more than a little surprised when Rose gave her a searching look before she stood and hugged her tightly. Such an act of caring and generosity from a person Niall had known for less than six months made her eyes burn with repressed emotion.
“Sit down, Niall,” Rose encouraged. She watched Niall closely as she followed her instructions and then sat down next to her. “I was going to ask how you’re holding up, but I think I’ve already got my answer.”
Niall shook her head impatiently, irritated by the rogue tears that escaped her eyes. “I’ve been doing well, actually, until this latest incident.”
“I was a little surprised to see you and your parents here at the hospital,” Rose admitted gently.
Niall explained about Evergreen Park’s mistake with the emergency contact information.
“Your mother and father still think it was a wrong decision for you to give up guardianship of Stephen?” Rose more stated than asked.
Niall nodded as she swiped the back of her hand over wet cheek. “Thank you,” Niall murmured when Rose reached into her large, bright pink bag and withdrew a tissue. “They could accept the guardianship part, I think. It’s the fact that I filed for a divorce that’s really bothering them. A male heir has always been important in the Chandler family. When I married Stephen, my parents got the son they’d always wanted. They were pretty disappointed when I decided to study art instead of get my MBA and go into the family business. But then Stephen came along and they were thrilled. He worked for my father at Chandler Financial . . . not directly, of course. Stephen had his own department but . . .” Niall shrugged, not sure where she was going with her rambling. “Besides, I was brought up Catholic. They feel like I’m abandoning Stephen because he’s broken or something.”
Rose sighed. “If only it were that simple. Stephen’s condition has been an anomaly in regard to traditional psychiatric understanding. His first symptoms occurred after a terrific stressor, of course, but his age of onset was too late to be a classic schizophrenia. He hasn’t responded
to medications for a psychotic type of depression, either. He goes through periods of remission but, well . . . you know how he is then,” Rose said sadly.
Listless, lifeless . . . vacant, Niall thought automatically. She couldn’t say what had pained her most over the years—Stephen’s manic, agitated, often violent psychotic episodes, or the long periods where he sat and stared out the window without uttering a word, refusing to eat or attend to his most basic grooming and hygiene needs, completely immune to her presence. When he ranted at her it was awful, but at least in doing so he acknowledged her existence.
Against her will the image arose behind Niall’s eyelids of the way her parents looked this morning in the hallway as she stood at the door beside a potently virile, nearly nude Vic. They had remained icily silent about the whole incident, but even a second of considering what they must be thinking of her made Niall cringe internally. Some part of her struggle and mortification must have shown on her face, because Rose put her arm around Niall’s shoulders in a gesture of compassion.
“Niall, thousands of family members of severely mentally ill people have to make similar decisions, and very few of them have suffered the awful extenuating circumstances you have. Didn’t the counselor you saw tell you that there’s no right or wrong to your decision? It’s you who has to be at peace with it. Not your parents. Not your friends. Not me. Not even Stephen. You, Niall.”
“Stephen suffered as well.”
Rose nodded briskly in agreement. “He did. I can only imagine what he must have suffered . . . what he still suffers.” She studied Niall with kind, dark eyes. “He’s responded in the only way he knows how. I can’t say for sure that I wouldn’t have drunk myself into a psychotic oblivion and decided to stay there if forced to face the same circumstances the two of you have. But here’s the thing, Niall . . .” Rose added more gently, “You can say that. You do know. You chose to continue with your life even when it meant you had to carry on alone.”
Niall just shook her head, made speechless by the emotion that gripped painfully at her throat. Why did it always hurt so much when someone said something like that to her? Was it some sort of deficit on her part that she hadn’t crumbled under the stress and grief as Stephen had? Did that mean that she’d cared less for their son than Stephen had, loved Michael less?
No. No, now she wasn’t being fair to herself, just as she hadn’t been fair to herself by stretching out this tragedy for so much longer than need be. Niall wondered if there would be a day in the rest of her life that the thought of her precious little boy’s senseless murder wouldn’t cause such an acute stab of pain that she was left literally breathless.
Tears streamed silently down her face. Rose had only meant to be reassuring and kind by her words. Niall’s lingering doubts about her decisions were the party at fault here.
The tears came from another source, as well. Niall kept so much locked fast in her heart. She had for so long now. Maybe it was foolishness, maybe it was fear . . . maybe it was nothing more than stubborn pride that made her suffer in silence.
Whatever the reason that she kept so much locked up within her, Niall was also starved to talk to someone . . . someone who knew at least something about the circumstances of why her husband—once a funny, intelligent man—currently lay down the hospital hallway, restrained, sedated, almost all evidence of his humanity and vibrancy squeezed out of him by the ruthless fist of grief. Niall longed to connect with someone who had more than just a verbal description of what her husband had become . . . of what Niall had lost.
The clinical psychologist that Evergreen Park had referred Niall to had been kind and attentive, but he’d never really broken through to her. Niall had felt like he was a well-meaning scientist studying a dolphin through a pane of glass. He’d wanted to reach her. But the unavoidable difference in their histories had seemed to make contact between Niall and the psychologist as difficult as communication between members of two separate species.
“Oh . . . dear,” Rose said brokenly when she noted Niall’s expression. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, honey.” She reached into her pink bag and brought out a wad of tissues.
Niall blinked in bleary-eyed surprise when Rose stuffed half the tissues in her hand and used the rest to mop the tears that had fallen on her own ample cheeks.
“Sorry,” Rose offered with a sheepish grin. “Not very professional of me.”
Niall gave a choked laugh that freed her trapped voice. “Maybe not. But human. And I mean that as a very big compliment. It can’t be easy for you to remain so emotionally available.” Niall reached out and covered Rose’s hand with her own. She held up the tissues meaningfully. “Thank you, Rose.”
She was glad to see by Rose’s wide, warm smile that the woman knew she was grateful for much, much more than the tissues.
When Niall had composed herself sufficiently both women stood and dumped their respective wads of tissues in the garbage can.
“Niall, there’s something important I wanted you to know, especially now. I tried to call you last week about it,” Rose said as they picked up their coats.
“I’m sorry. I was in Tokyo all week on a business trip. I just got your message at work late yesterday afternoon.”
Rose nodded in understanding. “I figured it was something like that. You’re usually so prompt about returning my calls.”
“What is it?” Niall asked anxiously when Rose didn’t speak for a second, but just bent to retrieve her purse.
Rose patted her arm reassuringly. “I just wanted to inform you of something. In light of the circumstances, I wish I had gotten hold of you sooner but . . . well, it couldn’t be helped. I was calling you to tell you that I’d received official notice from the state of your impending divorce,” Rose continued. “Now, I have a longstanding principle as a legal guardian that I follow in these situations. If I judge—given psychiatrists’ and other mental health professionals’ feedback—that the person who is under my guardianship is mentally stable enough to hear information like this, I provide it to them in person. People like Stephen aren’t children. They’re adults with clear legal rights. As part of my duty I have to decide if the harm to my client or to others outweighs his right to at least hear the truth about critical legal decisions that impact them. I’ve told you from the very beginning—haven’t I, Niall?—that I’m Stephen’s advocate.”
“Yes, of course,” Niall agreed quickly, not in the least offended by the slightly stern edge that came into Rose’s voice. She wasn’t sure she could have given guardianship to anyone who didn’t get the militant gleam in her eye that Rose did when she discussed the rights of mentally ill individuals. “I would have told Stephen myself if I hadn’t thought it was possible he would destabilize. You know how he can get around me sometimes.”
It should have been you, Niall.
She shut her eyes reflexively, trying to banish the automatic thought. Another one, equally unwelcome, abruptly rushed to take its place.
“Wait . . . are you saying this because you told him about the divorce?” Niall asked in shrill panic. “Is that why he attacked that man at the hospital?”
“No,” Rose said firmly. Her hand rose to Niall’s elbow reassuringly. “I’m bringing this up because I thought you might have this kind of reaction if you thought about it in the future and I wasn’t here to tell you otherwise.” Rose made sure she had Niall’s full attention before she continued. “I haven’t told Stephen about you filing for divorce. All of my reports from Dr. Fardesh and the staff at Evergreen Park argued against the wisdom of that.”
“Then why did you call me?”
“Because it was my duty to tell you my philosophy on the matter—that if Stephen was deemed sufficiently stable, I would at least inform him of the fact that he was about to undergo a legal divorce from his wife and ask him if he would like to state his opinion on the manner. Not that it would change the outcome of things. But he is a human being, after all. You would rather I make attempts at acknow
ledging Stephen’s human rights instead of just signing the divorce papers at work between responding to an e-mail and taking a bathroom break, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course!” Niall responded desperately. “Just tell me again that this recent relapse wasn’t related to you telling him about the divorce.”
“No,” Rose repeated passionately. She glanced over when a male nurse at the nursing station cleared his throat loudly, subtly informing them that they needed to calm down. “The reports from Dr. Fardesh have been far from encouraging that kind of communication. Then Stephen had this recent relapse—”
“. . . which had nothing to do with—”
“No! Dios, believe me, girl!” Rose insisted, earning another frown from the male nurse for her loud volume. She toned it down a notch as she continued. “I had already decided that it wouldn’t be in Stephen’s best interests to have any more possible stressors placed upon him. Then he had this latest relapse . . .” Rose paused and shook her head dispiritedly.
“I should probably also tell you that after this particular incident of violence I’ve agreed, at Dr. Fardesh’s urging, to give consent for Stephen to be given a new medication.”
“Another one?” Niall asked dully.
“We have to keep trying. I’ve held off on consenting to this medication because it has a dangerous side effect. A small percentage of patients experience a drastic drop in their white blood cell count when taking it.” She saw Niall’s worried expression. “Evergreen Park will monitor Stephen’s blood closely for that very rare side effect, Niall. It’s not as if he’s out in the community and might miss regular blood draws. And who knows? This is an older drug, but it has had amazing results for people with severe psychosis.
“Stephen’s most recent relapse aside,” Rose said, “in my capacity as his legal guardian I felt it was important to tell you that if Stephen should stabilize while your divorce is still ongoing—which we both know is highly unlikely, given that it will probably finalize in the next few months—that I might consider telling him what is occurring that legally concerns him. Might, Niall. And even if that should happen the chance of it actually affecting your divorce proceedings is a million to one.”