Marci drove back to Suzanne’s each afternoon feeling more and more satisfied that, after nearly ten years of blowing aimlessly in the wind, her work life was finally heading in the right direction. Once orientation was over, they were broken into small teams and given projects to start on right away. The creative director asked her to be the team lead for her group. This both terrified and thrilled her.
The firm moved at a fast pace, with a sense of urgency she had never experienced in Austin. Women wore full makeup to work every day, and either pressed slacks or panty hose—a far cry from the lightweight skirts and sandals favored in Austin. People walked, talked, and expected things fast. The hectic pace was an adjustment, but for the first time in her life, Marci had a badge for getting into the building with her name and picture on it rather than TEMPORARY EMPLOYEE #7 or something similar. She had a desk where she could store things overnight and hang up pictures. But pictures of whom?
Despite her turmoil, the routine of going to the same place at the same time each day was soothing. She bought a commuter pass for the Highway 400 toll plaza. She purchased a travel mug from the independent coffee shop along the route to work. She also invested in a tiny cooler for taking her lunch to work. She vowed to start paying Suzanne rent and bring lunch from home at least three times a week.
Some parts of her new routine were less satisfying. Several times each day, she picked up the phone and battled against the temptation to dial Jake.
Over the next two weeks, Marci worked nearly a hundred hours. This was partly from a desire to ensure her inaugural project as team lead was an impressive success, and partly as a distraction from the fact that Jake had not called her back.
She had begun looking at tiny apartments in the city, but Suzanne had insisted Marci stay on as her roommate. Marci hesitated. She really wanted to demonstrate her new-found independence by sending out change of address cards for her very own place. But between the rental prices of even the tiniest spaces downtown and how much she enjoyed living with her best friend, she decided she would stay.
They spent half a Saturday at Marci’s storage unit, trading out boxes of Suzanne’s spare room junk for more of Marci’s things. Suzanne even cleared off single shelves in her linen closet, refrigerator and pantry for Marci’s exclusive use. The bathroom was more difficult, because Suzanne had every bottle, jar, and tube known to woman spilling out of her vanity drawers, not to mention four separate hair-styling appliances. In the end, Marci opted to continue carrying her own toiletries back and forth in a basket, à la freshman dorm, rather than inconvenience her friend’s beauty routine.
It turned out that Marci’s long-term stay was also the excuse Suzanne had been waiting for to redecorate the whole place. Marci discovered this when Suzanne began dragging her to home decorating and furniture stores every day after work. “Don’t you think we need a new couch, something that’s less me, and more both of us?” “When we have big parties we’re going to need this cocktail service, don’t you think? I’ve had my eye on it for a while...”
Marci stood in Pier One, exhausted and bleary-eyed at 8:30 on a freezing Tuesday evening, comparing throw pillows for Suzanne as though she were at the eye doctor. “This one or that one? That one or the green one? Shiny green or fluffy green?” She was fantasizing about clubbing Suzanne over the head with a pillar candle and dragging her to dinner when her phone rang. The number on her cell phone was familiar but not recognizable.
“Marci? It’s Leah.” She sounded breathless.
“Leah? Hey, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Daddy. He’s collapsed.”
Chapter 24
The hospital was in the northern suburbs, an easy forty-five minutes from where Suzanne and Marci were in Buckhead. Still, Suzanne somehow managed to get them there in less than half an hour. They skittered into the emergency waiting area and found Rebecca there, pacing back and forth and talking on her cell phone. She waved at them soberly as she finished her conversation. “No, still no word. He’s conscious, I think, but the doctors haven’t said yet whether he’s going to be okay. They aren’t even letting Jake or Leah in to see him right now. Okay, Mama, I need to go. I’ll call you when I hear something.”
She hung up and threw her arms around Suzanne and Marci. “Oh, it’s so awful. Jacob is completely in shock; he hasn’t said a word since we heard. I was just telling Mama that it’s so lucky I happened to be with him when we got the call. We had just finished dinner.”
“Rebecca, what happened?” Marci interrupted.
“They say he was out working in the garage, you know how he does, and Mrs. Stillwell heard a crash. He fell right into his workbench, knocked everything over. She ran out and found him unconscious, called 911. They don’t know how serious it was yet, maybe a stroke. I guess they are waiting on tests. He’s in the ICU now. At one point he was awake, but I don’t know now. They’re only letting immediate family back there.”
Marci’s heart pounded in her chest. Of course, she had no idea what he thought of her now, but Mr. Stillwell had always been extremely kind to her. And he was Jake’s hero. It was unthinkable. She sank into a nearby chair and Suzanne held her hand while Rebecca made another call.
A few minutes later, Leah came through the double doors with her cell phone. Her eyes were puffy and red, her normally perfect hair falling out of a sloppy ponytail. She almost walked past them in her rush toward the door.
“Leah,” Marci said softly.
“Oh, Marci! Thank God you’re here.” Leah stopped and threw herself into Marci’s embrace. “It’s Daddy. It’s so hard to believe.”
Not knowing what to say, Marci just hugged her back and said, “I’m so sorry.”
“You have to go back there,” Leah said. “He needs you.” She nodded her head toward the double doors. Then she squeezed Suzanne’s hand and said, “Hi, Suzanne. Sorry, I have to go call Dave and make sure the kids are okay. My damn phone doesn’t work in here. ”
“Leah, I don’t know,” Marci started awkwardly. Did Leah know that she and Jake hadn’t spoken in three weeks? Or did she think they were still engaged? She was suddenly painfully aware of the absence of the ring on her finger. She had stopped wearing it after Jake’s last call. Behind Leah, Rebecca snapped her phone shut and turned to them with interest.
Leah put her hand on Marci’s cheek. She looked exhausted. “We all know what happened, honey. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re family. Just go back there and tell them that you’re my brother’s wife. It’s down the hall and to the left, Waiting Room E2.”
At the words “my brother’s wife,” Marci’s heart leapt, and she immediately felt ashamed for losing sight of the gravity of the moment. As she turned toward the double doors, she caught Rebecca’s open glare, and imagined it continuing to burn her back halfway down the hall.
The smaller waiting room seemed to be for immediate families of those in the ICU. Jake’s mother sat on a small couch in the corner, looking stunned. She sat perfectly straight, both manicured hands gripping her purse, which sat on her lap. She looked as though she were waiting to be called for a job interview for which she’d been up all night preparing. Jake was next to her, with his head in hands, staring at the floor between his feet.
No one had stopped her on the way back, so it had been unnecessary to tell anyone she was Jake’s wife. But with no nurses to question her and bring her to the family, she was unsure how to approach them. No matter what Leah said, Marci felt she was intruding on this very private moment after Jake had explicitly asked to be left alone.
Kitty Stillwater looked at her, but her expression did not register familiarity. Her face was barely recognizable as the formidable chair of the Country Club Social Committee. She looked at Marci with wide eyes and said quietly, “Robert.”
Marci nodded sympathetically, as Jake looked up and saw her standing there. Selfishly, she hoped he would rush into her arms the way his sister had, to allow her to comfort him and share his pain. But he didn’t mo
ve, and said nothing. His face was drawn and expressionless. Her heart ached for him. Quietly, she took the empty seat caddy-corner from him, so that their knees almost touched. After a minute Jake reached for her hand and held it tightly, but did not meet her eyes again.
They sat in silence for a while; Marci had no idea how long. Leah returned and took the chair on the other side of her mother. People drifted in and out of the tiny waiting room, having hushed conversations and plunking coins in the vending machine for coffee and snacks. Marci wondered how Suzanne was doing in the waiting room with Rebecca, but did not want to go find out. Jake was holding her hand.
After a while, a black man in a lab coat, who Marci thought impossibly young to be a doctor, came and sat across from them. He introduced himself as Dr. Williams, and looked each of them in the eye individually as he said, “As best we can tell right now, it seems Mr. Stillwell has experienced a fairly serious stroke. Normally, strokes like this one are preceded by more minor events, but either Mr. Stillwell did not have those symptoms or ignored them.”
Leah’s head dropped to her hands. “Oh, Daddy,” she murmured. Jake reached behind his mother to put a hand on his sister’s back.
“He is conscious, and seems alert right now. We’re doing everything we can to keep him comfortable and to mitigate any additional damage to his body and brain. I’m hopeful we were able to act in time that his life is not in immediate danger.” All four sighed deeply.
“You can go see him now, for just a few minutes, but I have to warn you that there is some pretty severe paralysis on the left side because of the stroke.” He looked at Leah. “Your dad doesn’t really look like himself right now. We don’t know yet whether the paralysis is permanent. Once he has fully stabilized, we’ll move him to a transitional unit and get him started on physical and occupational therapy.”
“He’s retired,” Kitty said automatically, her tiny voice gravelly with disuse.
Rather than explain the definition of occupational therapy, Dr. Williams stood and led them toward the hall and Robert’s room. As they filed out, he placed a hand on Marci’s arm. “You’re the daughter-in-law?”
“Yes,” Marci said, not at all confident that this was the right thing to say.
“Listen, I know this is difficult for everyone, but they’re going to need some help processing everything. Stroke recovery is complicated and there will be a lot of details and options. I think it would be helpful if you could take some notes and help them sort through it. Sometimes it’s easier for someone who isn’t a blood relative. Understand?”
She nodded. He pointed down the hall where a nurse was leading the other three into Mr. Stillwell’s room. She walked slowly, giving them time, and then hovered just outside the door as the three of them crowded around his bed. Between the slackening on the left side of his face, all the tubes and wires, and the white pallor of his skin, Robert Stillwell looked nothing like himself.
Marci watched through the glass as Leah fell to her knees next to her father’s bed and buried her head in his hands. Robert put his functioning right hand on top of his daughter’s head and seemed to look around at the rest of his family. She could not see Jake’s face and for the moment she was grateful for this. She did notice, however, that Jake’s mom hung back from the others, closer to the doorway than Robert’s bed. As Marci watched her, trying to get a hint of her expression from behind, she saw that Mrs. Stillwell was wavering where she stood, leaning —
Marci got there just in time to keep Kitty from crashing into the counter with the hand-washing sink. She braced the tiny woman awkwardly against it, trying to get her hands under Kitty’s armpits and yelling for Jake, who seemed to be turning around in slow motion. Marci managed to ease her into a seated position on the floor, and then prop the unconscious woman up against her own legs while holding her shoulders. A large woman in scrubs rushed in and snapped at Marci to step back as she took over. Marci pressed herself backward against the doorframe, trying to be as small as possible.
“It’s all right,” the woman said, with some sort of Caribbean accent. “She’s only fainted. Here we go, sweetheart.” She waved something under Kitty’s nose and helped her into a chair in the hallway about ten feet from Robert’s room. Expertly, she examined Kitty’s reflexes and softly asked her questions. It seemed to take her a minute to be able to focus, and when she did she threw her arms around the nurse’s neck and broke into sobs.
As if responding to a silent alarm, Dr. Williams appeared from around the corner and knelt in front of Mrs. Stillwell. He muttered instructions to the nurse and then continued talking to Kitty, holding her hands. Marci could not hear him, but he saw Mrs. Stillwell nodding gently as she leaned into the doctor. The nurse returned with a small paper cup and a glass of water. Kitty took the pills without protest and Dr. Williams patted her hands. The large Caribbean nurse stood nearby, her expression neutral.
“I’ve given your mother-in-law a mild sedative,” Dr. Williams said, addressing Marci as he entered the room. “This has been too much strain for her. Someone needs to drive her home and help her get some rest. That’s the best thing for everyone now.”
“I’m not leaving Daddy,” Leah said, matter-of-factly.
“I’ll take her home,” said Marci immediately. She was happy to at last feel she could be useful.
“You don’t have to,” Jake started.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said firmly. “You need to be here. I will take her home. I need a key.”
Jake pulled a small silver key off his key ring and handed it to her. Having something tangible to do made Marci feel calmer, more empowered. She was in temp mode—figure out what needs to be done and do it. She turned to Leah.
“What does your dad need from the house? Will they let him have anything?”
“I—I don’t know.” Leah looked utterly lost.
“It’s okay. I’ll ask at the nurses’ desk. Is there a bag I can bring things in?”
“Bedroom closet...top shelf.”
“Now, what about you guys? Don’t you at least want a sweater and a pillow if you’re going to stay here all night? Has either of you eaten anything?” They looked at her, wide-eyed.
“Okay, we’ll see to that, too. Leah, why don’t you give me Dave’s cell phone number and I’ll let him know I will be stopping by to pick up some things for you once we get your mom settled. You wear contacts, don’t you?” Leah nodded. “So you’ll want a lens case and your glasses, probably.”
“Who’s going to stay with Mama?” Leah asked.
“Suzanne or Rebecca will. I’m sure either of them will be happy to. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Call me if you think of anything else.”
Out in the hallway, the nurse helped the already-drowsy Kitty into a wheelchair and led Marci toward the exit. She confirmed that Mr. Stillwell could have a robe and slippers, and suggested he might want a framed photograph of his family in the room with him. She told Marci at least three times that no live flowers were permitted in the ICU. On the way out to the waiting room, Marci saw it was nearly 11:00.
Rebecca and Suzanne had both dozed off in the uncomfortable-looking waiting room chairs. Rebecca’s hand was clinched around her cell phone. Probably hoping to hear from Jake, Marci realized. Was it possible that Rebecca would one day serve in this role?
Marci woke them and explained the situation. “We need to get Mrs. Stillwell home and to bed and I think one of us ought to stay with her. I am going to call Dave and pick up some things for Leah. Jake didn’t say that he wanted anything, but maybe we should bring a pillow and something to eat anyway.”
“I’ll go with you and stay with her,” Suzanne volunteered. “But I have a meeting at ten tomorrow so you have to promise to come back for me. At least that way I can crash on the couch for a few hours.”
“I can go get Jake’s stuff,” Rebecca said.
“Do you, um...” Marci hesitated in discomfort. “Do you have a key to his place?” Surely not yet?
Rebecca shook her head. “I’m sure he’ll come out soon to check on me, though, and I can get his key then. It’s no problem.”
“You can take mine,” Marci said, fumbling with her keychain and not meeting Rebecca’s eye, or looking at Suzanne, who she could see reacting in her peripheral vision. “I haven’t returned it to him yet. I guess you can do that for me.” She tried a hollow little laugh that had no effect on the awkwardness whatsoever. As she handed Rebecca the key, she was vaguely aware that she was passing off one of her last excuses to see Jake after this.
It’s better this way, she decided. Clean slate. If he wants to see me, he’ll see me. The nurse pushing Mrs. Stillwell coughed loudly, and Suzanne and Marci followed her to the exit. Suzanne went to get the car while Marci waited with Kitty, who had begun to snore softly in the chair. Loading her in the car was easy; she was such a tiny woman. Marci thought about what she’d heard once about men tending to choose wives who remind them of their mothers, and wondered how Jake ever could’ve thought she fit this bill. She was twice the size of this petite woman, easily. Rebecca, on the other hand, had been a perfect size two since puberty.
On the way to the Stillwells’, Kitty seemed to half-wake, and began singing the Supremes’ “You Can’t Hurry Love,” off-key, in the back seat. Suzanne and Marci exchanged covert smiles in the front, a relief after the long night of worrying and waiting.
With Kitty tucked into bed and Suzanne snoozing on the couch, Marci made her way to Leah’s house. A bleary-eyed Dave met her at the door with a duffel bag and a pillow. Never much for conversation, he said only, “hey,” as he handed these items to her and went back inside.
The emergency waiting room was empty when she returned. Rebecca was obviously still downtown at Jake’s or perhaps had wheedled her way back to Robert’s room. Marci reminded herself that these were inappropriate, petty thoughts at a time like this. She made her way back down the now-darkened hall, unobstructed by the reduced staff of night nurses.
The Marriage Pact Page 25