As the hours slowly passed, Katherine was pleased to note she was doing a better job of keeping her tears in check. She had never considered herself a crybaby, but the specter of death at Molly’s age had put Katherine’s emotions into a spin. She’d never given much thought to her own mortality. Life just kept on going. But now, facing the possibility of death with someone so close to her had a profound impact.
She shared those feelings with Father DeCarlo that afternoon. Father DeCarlo . . . Tony—that was still hard for her—had said a lot that afternoon about the power of faith and positive thinking. She needed to focus on that. He had made a point that one did not need to be religious to draw on that power, although it certainly helped, he had added with a smile. And this made her smile, through her tears, when she lost it at that moment.
Their chat had brought back memories of her mother and her “what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger” mantra. The priest had essentially been saying the same thing to her. She certainly knew her mother had lived a life of faith and strength without being religious. The role model was there, loud and clear. How Kat missed her.
As she paced the corridor for a change of scenery, Kat couldn’t help recalling the crisis in her life when James walked out. A twinge reminded her how gutted she had been as she read his note that day in the kitchen. Their wedding anniversary. The beginning of the rest of her life. Dwelling on that thought, she nodded to herself and wondered how the next phase of Molly’s life would play out.
“Please let there be one,” she whispered out loud. “I’ll be here to help with whatever she needs. I will not let her down.”
With Wi-Fi in the reception area, Katherine took breaks to keep up with e-mails. She was touched to hear from some of the women in her expat walking group. There was even a message from Bernadette, saying she hoped all was well, and Annette had written to say the yoga class was sending their best wishes.
Her friend Véronique kept in touch regularly. Sometimes it was simply a philosophical thought or a photo of something she knew would be of interest. Katherine knew she was preparing some of her sought-after weaving for a Côte d’Azur art show in the spring.
In fact, Véronique had persuaded Katherine to consider entering some of her photography in that show. Thinking about it now, Kat was not sure she would even be there. Everything seemed so up in the air. Molly’s well-being was her priority. If I don’t look after her, who will?
Hearing from friends in France reinforced her sense of home over there. Kat felt annoyed for losing confidence in the choices she had been making in the previous months. She knew it had nothing to do with her feelings for Philippe. These sudden uncertainties were upsetting her.
Taking the subway early that evening, she tried to feel optimistic about Molly’s recovery. She hoped it was not simply wishful thinking.
The motion of the train took her back to the many years this subway had been her daily transportation. I’ve done a lot of thinking and read a long list of books riding the rails like this. She was reminded of how she had loved her work, the intellectual growth it had involved, and the satisfying challenges of research—all left behind when she chose to stay in France. But it was my choice, she argued with herself.
There was leftover stew for dinner, after Philippe’s call.
They Skyped this time but did not talk long, although they were happy to see each other on-screen. Words seemed not to come easily. It felt bizarre, they agreed, for their contact to be solely by phone, Skype, and text, after the intensity of their life together the past few months.
Philippe seemed a bit tense, as if something was on his mind. He denied it when Katherine asked, replying, “It’s just strange not to have you here all of a sudden.”
At the same time, Katherine was becoming aware that having some space between them perhaps was a good thing. There might be nothing wrong with her taking a long look at the changes in her life.
Her three-month home exchange had turned into a new life. A new her. Was it real? she wondered. Have I simply been seduced by the lure of the narrow cobblestone streets, the history, and the beauty that surrounds me there? Is my attraction to Philippe part of the hypnotic spell under which I find myself? Why am I asking myself all of these questions now, when I’ve been feeling so strong and positive about my life in France?
Blaming those thoughts on jet lag, she pulled herself into the present.
Alone in the house for the first time, she walked from room to room, pausing to soak in the memories, feeling like the child who grew up there. Every once in a while, she would become conscious of her age and see herself as her mother was at the same age.
That only served to raise more doubts. Am I too old for all this? Too old to start all over? What if Philippe gets tired of me?
In the past year, she had often found herself surprised to accept how her life could change at this late stage. It had become clear that anything could happen, no matter when, if she wished to make it so.
Her old bedroom brought back memories of Molly again. How many times had the two young friends whispered and giggled to each other when Molly had stayed over? How many nights had Elisabeth put her arms around Molly as she cried in fear, having run from her father’s abusive behavior? And how many times had her young brother, Shawn, followed along behind Molly, asleep in a sleeping bag at the foot of the bed?
Kat stopped to sit on her old bed, surrounded by the furniture and ghosts of her youth. She had brought a few storage boxes up with her and began to pack things.
Then she went downstairs to her mother’s favorite armchair. Upholstered in pale-pink brocade, it was soft and comfortable. Elisabeth had sat there and watched out the window for Kat to arrive for a visit. Now Kat closed her eyes, trying to channel Elisabeth.
Your spirit surrounds me, Anyu. I can feel it. How I miss you.
There was no one Katherine knew who faced stressful issues with more calm and wisdom than her mother had throughout her life. After all the horror and tragedy Elisabeth had experienced during World War II and then the deep and loyal love she had shared with her husband, Jozsef, into their eighties, she had owned a sixth sense about life.
Kat’s mind wandered, thinking how much fun it would be to tell Elisabeth about Philippe and France and everything that was happening. Then she thought how none of this would have happened if Elisabeth were still alive. Kat would never have gone on that home exchange in the first place. Life does work in mysterious ways . . .
Her gaze settled on a collection of photographs in silver frames on the small side table. Elisabeth had chosen the photos, then Kat had purchased the frames and placed the grouping for her to enjoy.
There was such hope and happiness on the faces of her parents as young immigrants to Canada from their small village in Hungary. In spite of the horror, cruelty, and betrayal they had witnessed and endured during the war years, their strong souls survived. Pure love radiated from their simple wedding portrait. Those same smiles, somewhat tempered with age, also shone from the photo Kat had taken at the intimate family celebration for their sixtieth wedding anniversary.
There were a few small black-and-white images of Kat as a child with each parent, holding poignant memories. One collage frame held three small photos with her proud parents on each of her university graduation days. Elisabeth had insisted on those.
Finally, she smiled at a selfie taken with her mother on their last Christmas morning together. She could almost hear Elisabeth’s words. “My sweet Katica, always remember what doesn’t kill us . . .” There was no need to complete the sentence. Mother and daughter had shared a warm embrace before Kat snapped the photo. “You will be fine, my darling daughter.”
Those photos will all go with me . . . when I go . . . if I go . . .
An intense pang of loss shot through her. Coming home wasn’t necessarily going to be easy. When she had been coping with the early days of grief—first with her marriage ending and then the loss of Elisabeth—she’d read somewhere that fee
ling pain could be turned into a positive thing. The strategy was to make each ache a reminder of pleasant memories. Kat was determined to work on that.
There’s no question my parents left me with a lifetime of good memories. Being back in this house brings those memories alive once more. This is home. Toronto is home. Fifty-six years of home. Can I really walk away from it?
Checking her e-mail before going to bed, she discovered Philippe had sent her a message that contained only the audio of Ella Fitzgerald singing “All the Things You Are.” They had played and swayed to it often in the quiet candlelight of their apartment. Philippe told her every word seemed to be written to express his feelings for her.
The sweetness of his gesture sent a rush of warmth through her. Kat tossed and turned as she tried to fall asleep in the midst of confusion.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kat peered out the window in Molly’s room, thinking about Philippe and how the day they parted in Paris seemed so long ago. She had wakened eager to hear his voice after worrying herself to sleep.
Both of them were consumed with the emotion of the words from the song he had sent. Their morning phone conversation had been filled with passion and longing. After she hung up, Kat realized she had just engaged in erotic phone sex for the first time in her life. She put her hands to her face as a hot flush rushed to her cheeks while a smile played on her lips. Better late than never . . .
Snow was falling lightly again today. Katherine always felt a sense of peace watching the swirling delicate flakes.
She was startled at the sound of a familiar voice.
“G’day, gorgeous.”
“Nick! I can’t believe you’re here!” she exclaimed as she spun around. “You’re making a habit of turning up at the most unexpected moments!”
His customary dazzling grin was replaced with a subdued expression as his eyes flickered over to Molly from the doorway. Kat reached him quickly and welcomed his comforting embrace.
“I came as soon as Tim told me about Molly. I spoke to Philippe and he filled me in with a few more details. I was just across the lake in New York, and I thought perhaps I could help somehow . . . with my plane . . . or I can hire a Medevac to take her wherever the best treatment is. I also had to fast talk my way past Nurse Ratched just now.”
Deeply touched by his concern, Kat began to cry, her head still on his shoulder.
Nick patted her gently on the back.
Fumbling for a tissue in her pocket, she stepped back and wiped her eyes. “It’s so thoughtful of you to come. Incredible, really. Th . . . thanks. I needed that hug.”
Nick walked over to Molly, leaning down to kiss her forehead as he took her hand in his. Kat went to the other side of the bed and slipped out Molly’s earbuds.
“Hey, Moll, it’s your Aussie buddy,” he said. “Graham sends a big smackaroo too. I hope you can hear me.” He looked across the bed and raised his eyebrows questioningly at Kat.
She shrugged, her face hopeful. “We’re told Molly may hear us, so we keep talking to her. We’re not giving up.”
She motioned to two chairs in the reception area, and they sat down. In a quiet voice, she shared all the medical staff had told her so far.
“Her most serious injury is described as severe brain trauma, and they are keeping her in this induced coma to assist with reduction of swelling. This morning they were able to do a functional MRI to check her responses. Her hearing is fine. Her motor functions seem to be preserved, based on muscle response. What is still undetermined are her intellectual capabilities.”
Nick listened thoughtfully. “What sort of tests have they done so far?”
“An EEG done at the same time as the MRI indicated an underfunction in the frontal lobe and temporal lobe. That has the doctors concerned. But as the swelling subsides, the function may improve. That’s the hope, anyway.”
“So what does ‘underfunction in the frontal lobe and temporal lobe’ mean, in layman’s terms?”
“Speech and memory,” Kat said with a frown.
They looked at each other and sighed.
“Time, Kat. Give it time.”
She nodded, wiping away a rogue tear.
“As you saw, she also has a fractured femur and a combination broken collarbone and shoulder. She will need physiotherapy, but they are injuries from which she’ll recover. It’s the unknowns about the head trauma that are concerning.”
“What do you think? Should I talk to the doctors about other treatment possibilities? I don’t want to be pushy, but if there are alternatives, I could help. We can fly her wherever would be best.”
“Sure. The staff here is amazing and the hospital specializes in head-trauma injuries. I doubt there is anything better, but it never hurts to inquire. Come to the nurses’ station and I’ll introduce you.”
Roslyn listened as Nick explained his thoughts. She asked him to wait while she checked to see if one of the attending doctors was available.
The two friends remained standing beside each other. Nick took Kat’s hand in his.
“What can I do for you?” he asked, his voice low and solemn. “Anything?”
She shook her head. “Thanks. All I need is for Molly to get better.”
He squeezed her hand, and they stood like that until Roslyn returned to the desk.
In her brisk and efficient manner, the nurse said, “Dr. Primeau will be available shortly and suggests you go to his office.”
“Want to come, Kat?” he asked, giving her hand a gentle pat as he let it go.
Roslyn interrupted, “Katherine, you’ll have to sign a form giving Dr. Primeau permission to speak openly to Mr. Field about Miss Malone’s condition.”
“Absolutely. Nick, since I’ve just been updated yesterday, you go ahead and see what you can find out. I’ll stay with Molly.”
He gave her a wink and a nod and walked to the elevator.
“Thanks, Roslyn,” Kat said. She appreciated the professional but warm attitudes of the staff attending to Molly. There was a sense that, in spite of its enormous size, this hospital focused on taking care of the family as well as the patients.
“Molly has great friends. Not everyone without family has that,” said Roslyn as she gave Kat a sympathetic smile. “She’s a lucky lady.”
“We’re the lucky ones. Just wait until she comes out of this and you get to know her.”
Kat went back into Molly’s room and took out one of her earbuds, holding it to her own ear. The mellow tones of Diana Krall crooned a favorite melody that Molly often included in her sets at the Blue Note.
“Come on, girlfriend. I want to hear you singing this song again soon,” Kat whispered into Molly’s ear. She continued to sit next to Molly, talking nonstop about her time in Antibes and her life with Philippe. As she spoke, her heart filled with gratitude for how her life had turned around.
Now if only Molly’s would do the same.
After a while, she picked up a book of Nora Ephron essays they all had been taking turns reading to Molly. Andrea had brought it to the hospital when Molly was first admitted so people could do something rather than just sit in silence. She also knew that Ephron was a favorite of Molly’s. It helped to laugh. Plus, the nurses had said it was a good idea for Molly to hear the voices of people she knew cared about her.
There were also books of poetry by Maya Angelou and Ogden Nash. Father DeCarlo had left those.
Since ICU visiting rules allowed only family, Kat was thankful the hospital had accepted Andrea and Terrence as kin. Father DeCarlo had vouched for them, and now she vouched for Nick.
Nick was gone for just over half an hour before he walked back into the room, carrying two Starbucks cups.
He gave Kat a warm, lingering look. “I remembered you moaning about missing your café mocha in Antibes, before Choopy’s started making them for you. So I thought I’d grab you one now.”
“Thanks! What a good memory you have! Oddly enough, when I got back to Toronto and rushed to have my first
mocha, all I could think about was how I missed my café au lait at Le Vieil Antibes. Crazy how things change! What did the doc say?”
Nick began with a surprising chuckle. “Guess where Dr. Primeau studied for his medical degree? In Melbourne, Australia! So he was very happy to chat about how much he loved my homeland. It was the perfect icebreaker.”
“Such a small world! But what did he say about Molly?”
“He’s very optimistic. Said she was lucky that her skull was not fractured. He feels they will begin to bring her out of this induced state by the end of next week and then it will be clear whether there will be issues to address. He refused to speculate at this point. As he said, ‘False hope leads to disappointment.’”
“That scares me.”
“Kat, the bloke appears to go by the book. Very cut-and-dried. But very smart. I liked him and I think we need to trust what they are doing. He said there was nowhere that she would get any better care than right here. People come from all over the world to this hospital for their neurological expertise.”
“I’d read that, and Terrence and Andrea told me that too. And the nurses say such positive things.”
“So that settles that. Molly is getting the best care possible. Now, how about you? Are you getting the best care possible? You seem—not without good cause—pretty stressed.”
Kat’s face tightened, and she took a long drink of her mocha before responding. She nodded slowly. “I’m as okay as I can be. I’m worried about Molly, of course . . . nothing else matters at this point.”
She swallowed and blinked back more tears. “Until her accident, I’ve never stopped to think seriously about how alone she is in the world.”
“She must have other friends, people she works with . . .”
“Of course, there’s the staff at the school and her music students and the people who love to hear her sing at the Blue Note, but they’re really acquaintances. And my cousin Andrea cares about her, but Molly has never reached out to her unless I’m around, though I know that will change after this. Andrea had no idea Molly was so alone. It was such a coincidence Molly was visiting with them when she had the accident. I don’t know what would have happened otherwise.”
I Promise You This (Love in Provence Book 3) Page 4