Nia stood as two men in blue uniforms wheeled a gurney into the room. A nurse followed, carrying a chart. Startled, she stared at the two women and then said to Nia, “I didn’t know you had a twin.”
“That I do.” Chuckling, Nia answered, “How’s my grandmother?”
“Dr. Ernst had a series of tests done to determine the extent of the damage caused by the stroke.” She glanced at the chart. “I think this is the last of the tests. Once the doctor reviews the results, I’m sure he’ll have a consultation with you and your family to recommend a treatment plan.”
“Thank you,” Tia answered for the both of them. She looked down at her grandmother. The senior member of the Edwards family appeared worn and tired. One side of her face looked slightly distorted.
She touched her grandmother’s arm reassuringly. That simple touch got her attention. Grandma Ruth focused on Tia. She tried to smile, but the muscles in her face didn’t respond.
“That’s okay,” Tia whispered.
Tia wanted to cry. Poor dear. She had suffered so much lately. I can’t leave like this, Tia thought. My conscience won’t let me. When Grandma Ruth is better, Chris and I will head to France.
Chris glanced at the clock on Tia’s screen and straightened his tie. “It’s time.” He watched Tia’s eyes widen in alarm as her hand fluttered nervously over the keyboard. She had every reason to be nervous. Hell, he felt nervous. Above all else, Reynolds was a businessman who ran a multi-billion-dollar company. He didn’t know how the president of Gautier International Motors would react.
After discussing Mrs. Wilson’s stroke, they had decided to talk with Reynolds about delaying their departure to France. Although Chris hadn’t said anything to Tia, he really didn’t expect Reynolds to agree to their request. Delays cost money, and Reynolds ran his company in the black. For his purposes, Chris hoped Reynolds would show some compassion and give them a break.
“Good luck,” Tia said.
Smiling reassuringly, he reached for her hand and squeezed. “Thanks. I hope I won’t need it.”
“Me too,” she muttered as he strolled away. He quickly disappeared between a maze of cubicles as he headed down the hall toward the executive row.
Chris took a deep breath and turned the knob before stepping through two carved wooden doors. He headed directly for Reynolds’s executive assistant.
“How are you, Chris?” she asked.
“Good. I’m here to see Reynolds.”
“Oh, yes. Mr. Gautier is expecting you.” She waved a hand at a frosted-glass entrance. “Go right in.”
“Thanks.” He stepped around the desk. He tapped lightly on the door and waited for a reply.
A gruff accented voice replied, “Come in.”
Reynolds sat behind a huge desk. He dropped the report in his hands, rose, and stretched out a hand to the young attorney.
Chris shook the older man’s hand, instantly switching to rapid French. “Thanks for seeing me. I know how busy you are.”
The older man followed suit. “Sit. Sit.” He waved a hand at an empty seat across from his wide expanse of a desk.
Complying, Chris sat, taking a minute to organize his thoughts.
“What can I do for you?” Reynolds asked, linking his fingers and placing them on the desk. His calm demeanor immediately put Chris at ease.
Chris cleared his throat and pulled on the end of his tie. “We’ve got a problem. Tia and I planned to fly to France at the end of the month. Everything was in order, but Tia’s grandmother has suffered a stroke.”
Frowning, Reynolds said, “I’m sorry to hear that. But how does that affect our plans for you to take over the France office?”
“I don’t think I can leave town when we planned. I need additional time. We want to stay until Mrs. Wilson is on safer ground.”
Pursing his lips, Reynolds leaned back in his chair and tapped the tips of his fingers together. “This is an unexpected development.”
Unexpected? What does that mean? Reynolds presented the perfect poker face. Chris wasn’t sure what to think, but he decided to forge ahead. “Yes, it is. We were hoping for a little more time before we have to leave.”
“Mmm,” he said. “How long?”
“A few weeks would be useful.”
“Fine. I’ll give you two additional weeks. That should give you enough time to determine Tia’s grandmother’s condition.”
Two weeks! That’s not enough! Chris silently yelled. He swallowed that thought and said, “Great. We appreciate it.”
Reynolds stood to indicate that the appointment had ended. He offered his hand, which Chris shook before he returned to his office.
26
After more than a week, all of Grandma Ruth’s tests were finished. The Edwardses invited their children to the consultation with Dr. Ernst to hear his evaluation.
On Friday morning, the entire Edwards family crammed into Dr. Ernst’s tiny office. Tia and Chris arrived to find the rest of her family already there. Mr. and Mrs. Edwards, Junior, Andre, Andrew, and Nia waited nervously for additional information about their precious Ruth Wilson. Tia stopped, scanning the room for an empty seat. Tia’s mother waved her over, pointing at the spot next to her. One empty chair remained. Tia turned to Chris with a question on her lips.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Go. Sit.” He stood against the wall next to her chair.
Tia took a quick glance at the people in the room. As usual, her father sat calmly next to her mother. One hand rested on his wife’s hand; the other sat still on his knee.
In contrast, Tia’s mother looked like she would pop at any moment. With one arm stretched across her middle, she rocked slightly back and forth. This situation was almost more than she could handle.
From her father to her twin, everyone appeared on edge. Nia worried her rose-colored lipstick away as she chewed the corner of her mouth and picked at her nails, working the polish from one finger. After a moment, she jumped to her feet and restlessly moved around the office. She paused here and there, reading the certificates, degrees, and diplomas that littered the office walls. She returned to her chair, flopped down, and started sorting through her purse, pulling items out and then returning everything before zipping it up.
Her brothers fumbled with their cell phones as if the electronic devices presented a lifeline to the world. Andre kept turning the item over and over in his hands as the moments ticked away, while Andrew flipped open the letter pad, tapped on the mini-keyboard, and snapped it shut. Junior kept moving around the room. His hands were shoved into his trouser pockets, and his gaze kept darting to the door.
Tia’s belly churned with nervousness. She didn’t have a good feeling about the outcome for the day. She believed that whatever the doctor told them would change and upset everyone in the family.
Frowning, Mrs. Edwards touched her husband’s hand and asked, “Didn’t we agree to nine o’clock?”
Mr. Edwards nodded, patted his wife’s hand, and said in a reassuring tone, “Nine it was. Remember, Dr. Ernst has other patients. We have to wait our turn.”
She sighed, toying with the strap of her handbag. “I know. Waiting is making me nervous.”
He smiled at his wife and said, “It’ll be fine. Whatever happens, we’ll figure things out and work it out together.”
They exchanged a look that communicated something special between them. Mrs. Edwards laid her head on her husband’s shoulder. “You’re a good husband. You’ve always been with me, no matter what.”
“That’s my job.” Tia’s father kissed Mrs. Edwards’s forehead and smiled gently at his wife. “I try. To me, that’s what marriage is about.”
Dr. Ernst entered the room with a thick manila folder in his hand. “Good morning. How is everyone?”
An assortment of “hellos” and “good mornings” followed.
Mrs. Edwards sat stiffly in her chair. Mr. Edwards patted her hand and whispered, “Don’t forget, it’s going to be just fine.”
> Tia let out a shaky breath. That little sound must have reached Chris’s ears. He linked their fingers, stroking the sensitive skin near her thumb. Her insides were quivering with worry. Finally, they were going to get information that would make it possible for them to start planning Granny’s recovery.
Tia focused on Dr. Ernst. He didn’t look much different from the first time they entered his office as children. Over the years, Mrs. Edwards had called upon Dr. Ernst to get their school shots when their pediatrician was booked. During one long summer, he put a cast on Andrew when he fell off his bike and broke his arm.
Standing at five feet eleven, Dr. Ernst had a booming voice that commanded attention, but he could also be soft and soothing when necessary. A thick, bushy mustache graced his upper lip and was in contrast to the thinning dark hair on his head. His narrow face and sharp, all-seeing dark eyes reminded Tia of a hawk ready to pounce.
He took his chair behind the desk and opened the file. He lifted the frame of his narrow glasses and readjusted them on his nose. “The neurologist and I discussed Mrs. Wilson’s case. She did have a stroke last week. We’ve done a battery of tests and have found that her motor skills have been affected by her illness.”
“What does that mean?” Mrs. Edwards asked.
“Your mother is having trouble walking. Speech is a problem. Each of you has been in her hospital room at one time or another. When you ask her a question, she uses every form of communication except verbal. When she speaks, it’s a slow and difficult process. Plus, it’s almost impossible to understand her.”
“Which side of her body is affected, Dr. Ernst?” Mr. Edwards asked.
He tapped the right side of his head. “The stroke hit the right side of her brain. Her sight is slightly hindered. From the MRI, I’m happy to say that she doesn’t have any residual blood clots or tumors. I think she’ll be just fine once we stabilize her medicine and get her into a regimen that will help her.”
“What caused the stroke?” Andrew questioned.
Nia held her belongings tightly. Tia understood how badly her sister felt about Grandma Ruth. She blamed herself for what happened.
“Well”—he paused and then continued—“your grandmother has admitted to peppering her diet with too many bad foods like potato chips, pork skins, and ham sandwiches. I believe she’ll be fine once all of her vitals return to normal and she stops eating unhealthy snacks.”
Leaning against the wall, Junior asked, “How do we get her back on her feet?”
“First thing we’re going to do is put her in rehab,” Dr. Ernst replied.
Mrs. Edwards raised a hand to interrupt the physician. “Wait. Have you said anything to my mother about this?”
“No. I thought your mother would handle the situation better if her whole family visited when I bring up the topic.”
“Are you sure this conversation wouldn’t go better with just you and her?” Tia’s mother inquired.
“No.” The doctor continued. “Your mother will go to rehab for a few months. Physical therapy will help her regain her strength and ability to walk. The facility also has speech therapists on site. That’ll provide some support for her communication problems.”
“Where do we come in? What should we do?” Andre asked.
“Your grandmother is going to need your support, encouragement, and help. This is not going to be easy for her. She’s going to be living away from home for a good part of the year without the benefit of everything she’s used to. You’re going to have to make it comfortable. I want to see you visit the site often. She’ll need you.”
“That’s not a problem,” Nia stated. “We’ll be right there for her.”
Dr. Ernst closed the file. “I don’t doubt it. I’ll see you and your siblings at Mrs. Wilson’s bedside.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know this is difficult and you’re not going to like the next part, but I have to recommend it. Allow her to vent when she’s frustrated, but don’t do things for her. Let her accomplish them on her own. Don’t coddle her. She needs to learn how to function on her own again.”
Surprise lit up Mrs. Edwards’s face. “Are you saying we should ignore her needs? Not help her when she needs us?”
Dr. Ernst lifted his glasses from his nose and then returned them to the exact same spot. “I’m suggesting you should let her help herself. You’re not doing your mother any good if you do all the work for her. While in rehab, she’ll learn how to function independently. Let her do that without interference.”
Shaking her head, Mrs. Edwards said, “I don’t know. I can’t do that. That’s my mother. What kind of daughter would I be if I ignore her when she needs me?”
The doctor lifted a hand. “Let me explain further. I’m not saying ignore her. Think of her as a baby who needs encouragement when she’s learning to walk. You don’t pick up your child each and every time she falls. There are times when you let her fall and wait until she picks herself up. That’s the attitude you need for Mrs. Wilson.”
The Edwards family talked among themselves as they considered what Dr. Ernst had suggested.
“This might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done for your mother,” the doctor stated. “In the long run, you’ll hinder her recovery if you supply all of her needs.”
“I don’t know,” Mrs. Edwards said.
Tia touched her mother’s hand. “It makes sense, Momma. We’re so used to helping that it doesn’t seem right to let her struggle. But it is.”
Mrs. Edwards latched on to her daughter’s hand. “Will you help?”
“Of course.”
Clutching her hand, Tia’s mother demanded, “Promise me!”
“Momma!” Tia replied.
“Make a promise,” Jackie Edwards insisted.
Shrugging, Tia said, “Okay. I promise. I’ll be here for you and Granny.”
Mrs. Edwards sighed. “Thank you. I’ll need your help to get through this.”
Tia squeezed her mother’s hand. “I’ll always be here to help you.”
She stroked Tia’s cheek. “You’re the best, Tia-Mia.”
Tia glanced Chris’s way. He stood stiff and unyielding. His face looked as if it were carved in granite. What’s going on with him? she wondered.
Chris spoke up in his French-accented voice. “Dr. Ernst, will Mrs. Wilson get better? Will she be all right?”
The doctor’s sharp gaze moved over to the Frenchman. “I have all the faith in modern medicine and her strong personality that she will recover completely.” He lifted a finger and waved it in the air. “Remember, all the work is hers. She must make up in her mind that she wants to get back on her feet.”
“And now? Is she in danger?” Chris asked.
“No. She’s stable. The treatment team wouldn’t move her or release her to the rehab if there was any danger of her having another stroke.”
“Excellent.” Nodding, Chris gave the doctor a vague, unfocused smile and leaned back against the wall.
“When will my mother-in-law be transferred?” Tia’s father asked.
“The day after we talk to her,” the doctor responded. “I want the family to be at her bedside when I talk to her. I don’t want her to feel like she’s going to a facility to be abandoned by her family.”
“We’d never do that.” Junior pushed away from the wall and moved closer to the doctor’s desk. “She’s our family. We work together.”
“Perfect,” the physician said. “Let’s talk to her tomorrow morning, say about ten?”
“Sure.”
“Yeah.”
“Works for me.”
Dr. Ernst rose and so did Tia’s parents. He extended his hand, first to Mrs. Edwards and then to Mr. Edwards.
“I’ll see everyone tomorrow morning at the hospital at ten.” He edged his way to the door and opened it. He held it open as the Edwards family filed out of the office.
Silently, Chris followed Tia out of the office and to the car. She felt an undercurrent of something. Tia
couldn’t put a name to the emotion sizzling below the surface. Chris held open the elevator door for her, and they descended to the first floor in silence.
Something’s off, she thought as a chill iced her skin. Tia rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms as they exited the building.
27
Tia and Chris stepped into the sunshine. She turned to him and asked, “Do you want to stop for something to eat before we head back?”
He shook his head, moving through the rows of parked cars toward her Velocity. “No. Let’s get on home.”
Surprised, Tia paused outside the medical building and stared after her fiancé before hurrying to catch up with him. He always enjoyed discovering new cuisine when they were out. She climbed into the passenger seat and snapped her seat belt into place. Chris did the same, then started the engine and headed toward the freeway.
They made the entire drive home in silence. Cars whizzed by them as they cruised along I-75 on their way to downtown Detroit. Tia kept snatching quick glances at Chris as they traveled, trying to gauge his mood and his reaction to the meeting. Unfortunately, his poker face gave nothing away. With that expression, she thought, he might be able to work his way through the Detroit casinos.
All too soon and without a word being spoken, Chris turned into the court where she lived, stopped outside her town house, and hit the remote on the visor. The garage door rattled and groaned as it opened. Chris pulled the SUV into the empty space, switched off the engine, and shifted in the driver’s seat to face her. Hands tightly clenching the steering wheel, Chris asked quietly, “Can we talk?”
Tia ran a gaze over the man next to her. His unyielding posture made her heart skip a beat. Butterflies hatched and flitted inside her belly. Darnell had been the last person to say those words, and look what happened to their relationship. Tia wrapped her hand around the door handle. No, I don’t want to talk, she thought. But I need to know what’s rolling around in your head. “Sure. Come on in.”
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