by Susan Wiggs
“Your mother was just telling me about her date with Rick Sanders,” Faith said. She still felt defensive about the way Mason had challenged her last night, questioning her judgment.
His eyes narrowed. “And?”
“It was perfectly fine,” Alice said, “and we’re going out again, so stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re my keeper.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are.”
“Excuse me for being concerned about my mother.”
“I do appreciate your concern, but in this case, it’s misplaced.”
He gave her a fresh cup of coffee and positioned the straw. “All right, then. I’m cool with it, Mom. Really. Just...takes a little getting used to.”
“What takes getting used to?” asked Ruby, coming into the kitchen. With practiced efficiency, she got out her kit and checked her levels.
“My mom going out on a date,” said Mason.
“I know what you mean,” Ruby said easily. “When my mom goes out on a date, I think it’s weird.”
“Yeah?” His back stiffened visibly.
“Uh-huh. Cara says she should get a regular boyfriend, but she never does.”
“Excuse me,” said Faith, feeling a terrible blush in her cheeks. “Since when do you go around discussing my personal life?”
“Since when do you have a personal life?” Cara asked, entering the kitchen with a big yawn.
“Don’t you think my mom and your mom look pretty with their new hair?” Ruby asked Mason.
“They’ve always been pretty,” Mason replied. “And I’ve always noticed that.” Ignoring Faith’s mortified expression, he asked, “How are you feeling today, Ruby Tuesday?”
“I’m good. Thank you for the music last night. You’re really good on the piano.”
“He played the piano?” asked Alice.
“Yes, but we shut the doors and he played very pianissimo until I went back to sleep.”
“Goodness. That was certainly...paternal of you, Mason,” said Alice.
He cleared his throat. “What time are we leaving for the surgeon?”
“I told Donno nine o’clock,” said Faith.
He checked his watch. “That’s good. And then—” His phone made a sound, and he checked the screen. Faith noticed that when he was thinking, a small single crease appeared between his brows. She noticed far too many things about him.
* * *
Mason’s nerves buzzed with tension as everyone gathered for his mother’s surgical consultation. This mattered to him even more than he’d imagined.
Presbyterian Hospital in Manhattan resembled a postindustrial cathedral, its twin wings and grand entryway both beautiful and forbidding. The final meeting was in a high-rise clinical annex adjacent to the hospital. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a view of gardens and the river beyond, busy with freighters and ferryboats, the bridges delicately strung against the summer sky.
A bewildering array of neurological tests had already been done, along with psychological and social assessments to determine whether or not the nerve detour surgery would help his mother. What remained was for Dr. Cross, the peripheral nerve specialist, and the team of experts to evaluate her prospects for improvement following the neurosurgery procedure.
Mason checked his watch. Regina had planned to join him here, to be present for the final meeting about his mother’s case. She was late.
“Everything all right?” asked Faith.
When he looked at her, the buzz of tension subsided a little. “Ask me once this meeting is over,” he said.
She offered a soft smile. “It’s been a long day for everyone.”
“Mom’s been a champ,” he said.
“I have not.” His mother moved her chair forward, Bella obediently keeping pace at her side. “I’m a wreck.”
“You look fantastic,” Faith said quickly.
Mason’s phone vibrated with an incoming message. A quick check revealed a note from Regina.
Wedding planner stuck in traffic, running super late. Probably not going to make it up to the hospital in time. So sorry. Good luck!
He glanced up to see his mother and Faith watching him. “Regina can’t make it, after all,” he said, dismissing the message with a swipe of his thumb. “She says to wish you luck.”
His mother offered a tight smile; he couldn’t tell if she was expressing nervousness or disapproval. “Well, then,” she said, turning her chair toward the conference room. “I suppose we can get started.”
“I’ll stay out here during the consultation,” Faith said, scanning the nearly empty waiting room for a place to sit.
Mason looked at his mother. And she was looking at Faith. “I’d prefer it if you’d come to the meeting,” she said.
“Alice, I’m no specialist—”
“We appear to have enough of those,” said his mother, sweeping the room with a glance. “The surgery coordinator places a special emphasis on the patient’s home environment.” She swiveled to face the coordinator, an officious-looking middle-aged woman with a clipboard and a bun. “Isn’t that correct?”
“Indeed it is,” the woman said. “This is a major commitment, not just for the patient but for the entire family. A support system is crucial in order to get us to a successful outcome.”
“There you have it,” his mother told Faith. “We need you at the meeting. You’re family.”
Faith’s smile lit the room like the sun coming through the clouds. Had she always had that effect on a room full of people, or was he only just now noticing it?
“Thanks, Alice. I’d love to join you.”
Mason forgot his irritation with Regina as they gathered in the conference room. He noticed that Faith had a way of touching his mother where she could feel it, the shoulder or the upper back. This woman was a gift, he thought, not for the first time.
“There you are, you ridiculous man.”
Mason swung toward the door. He would know that low voice, that British accent, anywhere. “Katia. Thanks for coming. Why am I ridiculous?”
“Because you waited so long to call me.”
Striding across the room, he pulled her into a fierce hug. So much had changed, yet so much was the same—the sandalwood scent of her skin and hair, the smooth song of her voice. She would always be the girl he’d fallen in love with when he was seventeen, the girl who had changed his world. And here they were, their youth stolen by violence and the passage of years, and yet she was still so beautiful.
It was a strange moment, a collision of the past and present. He could see Faith studying Katia. Faith was probably thinking about the story he’d related about that long-ago summer. So, apparently, was his mother.
“Katia, I’ve waited twenty years to meet you,” she said.
“It’s an honor, Alice. And I’m honored that Mason finally called me to help.” Her warm brown eyes took in the team. They had moved into the conference room and were setting up charts and models. “I can already tell you’re surrounded by talent.”
“I like to think so.” His mother regarded Katia for a moment. “I’ve met the others my son was with in the metro explosion—Lisa, Malcolm and Taye—but never you.”
“My family moved to London that summer. Paris did not seem like a safe place for us,” Katia explained. She seemed incredibly poised as she took a seat next to Mason’s mother. “Is there anything you want to ask me about that day?”
“Is there anything you want to tell me about that day?”
They spoke softly, yet the moment felt tense.
“I can tell you I felt an enormous sense of guilt that people were injured in the blast,” Katia said. “My father’s friends made me leave the metro station shortly b
efore the blast.”
“You never told me that,” Mason’s mother said to him. Then she turned to Katia. “Are you saying these ‘friends’ had some kind of foreknowledge of the attack?”
“I’ll never know for certain. After they took me home that night, we never saw them again.”
Mason had unconsciously moved closer to Faith. She seemed to sense how agitated he was from this conversation, because she gave his arm a reassuring touch.
“Katia,” said Faith, “you’ve had such a remarkable life and career. I read about you online.”
“Oh, dear. Nothing terribly scandalous, I hope.”
“On the contrary. Your humanitarian work is inspiring.”
Mason nodded. “It makes me all the more appreciative that you made time for this.”
She smiled and stood up. “We made a pact, the five of us,” she told Faith. “We promised to always stay in touch, and to drop everything if one of us asked for help.” Then Katia looked at Mason’s mother. “This is the first time he’s ever asked.”
* * *
The surgical coordinator started the meeting. Everyone listened closely to the details of the procedure.
“Bottom line, Alice, your spinal cord can’t be fixed,” Dr. Cross explained. “We simply don’t know how. What we do know how to do is reroute your peripheral nerves—the ones in the arms that connect to your spinal cord above the spot where it was injured.” The doctor explained the procedure, step by step, in detail.
“There are a lot of steps to recovering,” the nurse practitioner added. “The peripheral nerves we plan to reroute will have been severed and reattached to different muscles. It takes time to heal, weeks to heal and months to retrain your brain to talk to these nerves. You’ll be working on strengthening your muscles, too, because they’ve been idle since your accident.”
Mason glanced at his mother and then at Faith. Both of them listened with eyes wide and full of hope. The medical team was cautious but enthusiastic about the procedure.
“I’m ready,” Alice stated. “The sooner this process can start, the better.”
“You understand the hand function restored will not be immediate,” said Dr. Cross. “You won’t magically wake up and start mixing your own martinis.”
“We’ll see,” said his mom. “I mix a mean martini.” Then she grew serious. “Listen, I’ll do whatever it takes,” she told the entire team.
“My mother is a world-class athlete,” Mason added with a surge of pride. “She has the mental and physical strength to go through whatever training is required.”
“Good to hear,” the physical therapist said. “You’re going to need every resource you have. It takes time to reprogram the brain to understand the changes this surgery is going to bring about. Nerves that used to bend the elbow will now provide the ability to pinch, that sort of thing. Other patients report that this is the most difficult part of the procedure.”
“I can do difficult,” said his mom.
“Good. Sounds like your background as an athlete is going to help with the intensive physical therapy. There’s a mental component, as well. You’ll be retraining your brain to ‘talk’ to the new wiring system. Ultimately, you’ll have the use of your hands.”
Mason, his mother and Faith had already studied and read the materials they’d been given, but to hear the doc actually say the words was bone-chilling. His mother stared down at her hands for a long time. “That would be amazing after all this time.”
“We can’t promise you’ll be playing Chopin again, but you’re going to be able to do a lot more without using assistive devices. Operating your chair, writing with a pen, using utensils, combing your hair, brushing your teeth. These are all realistic goals. You’ll have more use of your arms, and you’ll be able to hold things precisely between your thumbs and fingers. You’re going to regain control of the very thing that makes us human.”
The expression on his mother’s face was both beautiful and piercing. Mason realized that she had spent a year staring at her hands, unable to make them work. She must be blown away by the possibility of regaining control over them.
“You look as if you could use a hand now,” Faith said quietly, and bent down next to his mother. Ever so gently, she took a tissue and blotted at his mom’s cheeks, and then the two of them headed for the ladies’ room.
At the end of the meeting, the conference room emptied out. Mason stood alone at the window, staring at the sky. The euphoria he felt was so powerful that it hurt his chest when he breathed. The hope in his mother’s face, and the prospect that she was going to regain some of her mobility, nearly wrecked him. He was shaking, and tears blurred his vision, and his heart was about to burst.
Hearing a sound behind him, he turned to see Katia there, her large dark eyes drifting over him. “Your mother and Faith would like you to meet them downstairs,” she said. “They need a bit of time.”
He nodded, sharply grateful that they had Faith to look after his mom’s needs.
“It’s good to see you,” he said.
“Likewise,” she said. “Your mother... I’m so sorry. This will make things better.”
He wondered how many I’m-sorrys she tendered in her job, treating people injured in explosions, car bombings, shootings. After the 1995 metro bombing, she had been consumed by guilt upon learning her cohorts had been injured. Maybe that had been why she had been compelled to practice medicine.
“I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you referring us to Dr. Cross,” Mason said.
She reached up and brushed at a stray tear on his cheek. “You just did.”
“Where are you staying? Can I take you to dinner, or...?”
“I’m staying at the Mercer Hotel, and I have plans for dinner—with Dr. Cross, in fact,” she said. “Tomorrow, I’m off to DC for a symposium. Don’t worry about entertaining me, Mason. You’ve got enough to think about at the moment.”
She studied him with those long-lashed, probing eyes.
He grabbed a tissue from the box on the table, mopped his face. “Something wrong?”
“I’m not sure. How are you doing?”
“Great, like I said on the Skype call. Busy at work, lots of travel. Once my mother gets through this next phase, I’m going to go on a nice long trip, maybe try kiteboarding, or—”
“Stop.” She smiled. “That’s not what I’m asking. You showed me your heart twenty years ago, Mason. You’ve been trying to hide it ever since. Why is that?”
“What, you’re a psychiatrist now?”
“You go all over the world on adventures, rescuing people along the way, but I’ve never seen you settle into your own life. I wonder what you’re looking for.”
“Same thing everybody else is. Looking for the life that feels right.”
“I have a feeling the life you’re looking for might be right in front of your nose.”
He laughed. “In your medical opinion.”
“I’ll send you a bill.”
* * *
Alice stared at herself in the mirror of the ladies’ room while Faith washed her hands and reorganized the gear bag that traveled everywhere with them. I hate that fucking bag, thought Alice. It was filled with extra tubing, disposable gloves and drainage sacs, the sort of things no one thought about—unless they found themselves in this godforsaken situation.
Then her gaze shifted to the small, eager-eyed dog in her lap, and her mood instantly lifted. Bella knew a lot of commands, but the best thing about her was her attitude.
Take a breath, Alice reminded herself. Look down at your hands. If this procedure goes as planned, you’ll be using your hands again. The prospect filled her with a cautious sense of joy. She had taken so much for granted before all this started. Now she finally took to heart the hardest—and the simplest—of life lessons:
let every moment matter.
Faith turned to Alice with a smile. “All set?”
Alice smiled back. “Is my hair okay?”
Faith fluffed it with her fingers. “Beautiful. This new cut is working well for you.” She stepped back. “Well. Exciting day, yes?”
“Yes. It’s a lot to take in, but I’m hopeful.”
“We all are.” Faith beamed at her.
She really was a lovely young woman, thought Alice. It wasn’t the sort of beauty that shouted and drew attention to itself. It emerged gradually, like a flower opening. Until she put on her bikini, of course, Alice thought, recalling the look on her son’s face the day of the first swimming party. No man could ignore a figure like that.
“I need to spend some time with Mason this afternoon,” Alice said, propelling her chair toward the door. It was going to be a difficult conversation, but since he had come to stay with her at the lake, she was confident they’d get through it.
“Of course,” Faith said. “I could tell he was very moved by the idea of you getting some mobility back.” Her cheeks flushed pink, and her eyes took on that universal brightness of a woman in love. She probably had no idea how her feelings shone. “We all were. I can’t wait for you to tell my girls.”
Alice studied Faith—her aide. Her friend. Someone she loved like a daughter. Yes, Alice definitely needed to have words with Mason. “I can’t wait, either,” she said, heading down the hallway.
The elevator car was too crowded for the chair. Oh, how Alice despised that. “You go ahead,” she urged Faith. “Tell Mason that Bella and I are on our way.”
Faith didn’t argue. She always seized on any chance to foster Alice’s independence, and Alice appreciated that more than anyone knew. Having Faith and the girls in her life had changed everything for Alice, and it was about time she discussed the situation with her son.
* * *
Downstairs, Mason stepped outside and flagged a taxi to take Katia to her hotel. Then he paced up and down on the sidewalk in front of the hospital. Here on the street, the world looked the same. None of the people hurrying by, going about their business, knew that what had taken place at the meeting was going to change his mother’s life.