by Neesa Hart
Jackson swore. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re right, and nothing may come of it, but it depends on whether or not the public outcry dies down. Seems that Herrington thinks the fact that Cammy’s been working with federally subsidized programs, and the kids who benefit from those programs, opens her up to additional scrutiny. I think the precise quote was, ‘Our tax dollars shouldn’t be squandered on programs whose goal seems to be the emotional devastation of young children like Amy Patterson.’ “
Jackson swore again. Costas nodded. “My thoughts exactly. To make matters worse, it’s no secret that President Stratton’s grandson is deaf, nor that Stratton’s been one of Cammy’s biggest supporters. Rumors are starting to surface that some of the federal grant money Cammy’s received may be less than legitimate, and that certain elected officials have used Wishing Star as a political platform to earn the president’s support.”
“She’s going to have to grant some interviews. If she ignores them, it’ll get worse.”
“She’s got Macon Stratton handling her response.”
Jackson drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Macon’s good, but no one can defend Cammy as well as she can herself. If Macon continues to speak for her, it’s going to begin to look like she’s hiding something.”
“I doubt she’ll do it. You know how she feels about that. She rarely speaks in public, and then it’s prepared speeches only. Never Q&A.”
Jackson’s frustration mounted. “Damn it to hell, I ought to wring Meyerson’s neck. You know why she’s doing this, don’t you?”
“I can imagine it’s some fairly self-interested reason.”
“She’s planning to run for the presidency, even if she doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell, and she’s hoping to use Cammy to make the administration look bad.”
“Brilliant deduction, Puller.”
Jackson glared at Costas. “In case it has escaped your attention, I’m not exactly in a joking mood. She won’t take my phone calls, and I wanted your perspective on this. You’ve known her longer than I have.”
Mike nodded. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to make light of it. You know I want what’s best for her.”
“That would be me.”
“Your ego’s intact, I see.”
“Not for long. Not if I can’t work this out.”
Mike thought it over for a few seconds as he tapped a ballpoint pen on the surface of his desk. “If you want my professional opinion, I think what’s really going on here is Cammy’s inability to face the truth about her mother.”
Jackson lowered his eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”
“Cammy has spent a lot of years resenting her mother, and an equal number of years either denying that resentment or feeling guilty for it.”
“Anyone would resent that woman. Have you heard the way she talks to Cammy?”
Mike held up his hand. “I’m not saying Cammy doesn’t have a right to her feelings. Believe me, I think Laura Glynn’s parenting skills left much to be desired. Even before she grew seriously ill, she used Cammy as a tool against Durstan. It’s possible, I’d even say it’s probable, that Laura’s anger at Durstan had more to do with the unrest in Cammy’s childhood than her mental illness. I don’t know when she crossed the line from cold and bitter to bitter and delusional, but that didn’t happen until years later. She was seriously underequipped to deal with the needs of a child like Cammy, and so was Durstan. The fact that Cammy couldn’t actually hear them arguing probably made it more frightening and confusing, rather than less.”
“And now that her mother is seriously ill?”
“Laura’s probably going to die soon. If Bruce Philpott is to be believed, it could be any day. The thought is somewhere in Cammy’s head that if she doesn’t make peace with Laura before she dies, then she’ll never resolve her own anger. She also thinks that anger is what drove her mother to insanity. It’s natural that Cammy would fear the same consequences.”
Mike made an ineffectual gesture with his hands. “For years, Cammy was the focus of Durstan’s resentment of Laura, and Laura’s resentment of Durstan. The idea that she might have to endure that from you, or from anyone for that matter, scares her to death. She’s got all the anger she can cope with, and she doesn’t want any more.”
“Has she talked to you about this?”
“Bits and pieces. Cammy’s a very private person, even with the people she loves. I think she has probably opened up to you more than anyone.”
“And that’s why she’s pushing me out of her life.”
Mike nodded. “She’s made herself vulnerable to you, and now she’s afraid to trust you.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Don’t give up. Durstan was a quitter. So was Laura, for that matter. If you get the chance, try to encourage Cammy to forgive her mother.” He looked at him through narrowed eyes. “And pray a lot.”
“I’m here, Mother,” Cammy told Laura.
Laura Glynn looked at her with an angry, vacant stare. “Go away. I want your father.”
“He can’t come.” Cammy frowned at the pallor of her mother’s skin.
“I want your father. Where’s your father?” “He’s not coming, Mother. He can’t be here.” “Durstan? Durstan, it’s not my fault. I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t help her. She needed help and I couldn’t help her.”
Cammy’s eyes drifted shut as her mother continued to babble incoherently. She clenched them tight, and, though she willed herself not to, thought of Jackson.
In the glow of his undivided attention, Amy’s spirits had risen visibly by the end of last evening. She seemed to be mostly unaware of the firestorm surrounding her, and though she remained disappointed about the implant procedure, she had responded with characteristic resilience. Jackson’s unqualified support hadn’t hurt.
Cammy had barely made it through the performance intact. With Amy seated between them, and the occasional resolute looks Jackson sent her way sending tremors through her blood, she’d been reminded of similar events from her childhood. On a few occasions, generally for some political reason, she’d accompanied her parents to a public event. Generally, they kept her physically and emotionally between them as a buffer for their anger. By the time they returned home, both were spoiling for an argument. She would sit on the stairs and watch through the wooden balusters as they vented their frustrations.
Always, she’d been left feeling confused and frightened by the fury she sensed in them both.
“Get him here, Cameo,” Laura insisted. “I want him to see me. He should see me.”
Cammy blinked. “What, Mother?”
“Durstan did this. He should see me. He blames me, but it’s his fault. It’s all his fault. He should be here. He should help me.”
“Mother,” Cammy drew a deep breath. “Daddy is dead. He’s not coming.”
Her mother thrashed in the bed. “That bastard. He wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t. He’s with her.”
Cammy reached for her mother’s hand. Her chilled skin felt as thin as paper. “Mother, listen to me. Daddy is dead. You know he’s dead. He’s been dead for years.”
Again, that vacant stare met hers. “I want him.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t understand how much I want him. That’s all I wanted. I just wanted him. He didn’t know. He can’t die without knowing.”
Cammy swallowed. “I’m sure he knows, Mother.”
She shook her head. “I tried. I tried so hard. He never listened.”
“I know.”
The door opened slightly, and Bruce Philpott stuck his head in the room. “Cammy?”
She glanced at him. “Hi, Bruce.”
“May I see you for a minute?”
She gave Laura’s hand a squeeze, then laid it back on the sheets. “I’ll be back later, Mother.”
Laura shook her head. “You won’t. You’re like him. You’re not coming back.”
Cammy slip
ped from the room without comment. Bruce gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. She barely knows I’m there most of the time.”
“Maybe we should go to my office and talk.”
“Is it that bad?”
He nodded slightly. “It’s bad, Cammy.” Linking a hand beneath her elbow, he started walking down the dim corridor. “I have the reports back from Dr. Marche.”
Roland Marche was the geriatric specialist Bruce had brought in to examine Laura. “There’s not much time, is there?” Cammy wondered if Bruce would notice the lack of emotion in her voice. For perhaps the first time in her adult life, she had no idea what she was feeling. A block of ice seemed to have settled itself firmly in her heart.
Bruce pushed open the door to his office. “I don’t think so,” he confirmed. “Why don’t we sit down.”
Cammy settled herself in one of the leather chairs near his desk. Bruce handed her a manila folder. “That’s Marche’s report. Do you want me to hit the highlights for you?”
“Please.” She flipped open the folder, quickly scanned the cover sheet.
“Most of Laura’s systems are in failure. Her liver is barely functioning. Her pulmonary and cardiac systems are in distress. We’ve run some tests and discovered high concentrations of toxins in her urine and blood. Dr. Marche thinks it’s a matter of days before her body simply stops working.”
“Is she in pain?”
“Not that I can tell. I’ve left instructions to give her as much morphine as she needs to stay comfortable.”
“Which is going to contribute to her disorientation.”
“Yes. I’d like your permission to take her off her anti-delusional meds. I think they could be contributing to her agitation, and, at this stage, I’d rather see her comfortable.”
Cammy thought it over, then nodded. “So would I.”
Bruce’s expression softened. “Cammy, it’s going to get rough. I can keep her sedated most of the time, probably will, in fact, but that’s not going to change what’s happening in her mind. When she’s cognizant, I can’t give you any indication of what she’ll be like.”
“I realize that.”
Bruce drew a deep breath. “I’m not sure I like the idea of you facing this by yourself. I think Costas should know, and I think maybe you should limit how much time you spend here.”
“Look, Bruce, she’s my mother.”
“Hell, Cammy, I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t have some serious professional concerns about what this could do to you. Normally, I’d recommend counseling.” At her sharp look, he held up his hand. “But I know you’d refuse. I want you to take care of yourself. We’ll take care of your mother.”
“I’ll need to make some arrangements.”
“We can handle that for you, if you like.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I would.”
“Cammy—” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know there’s nothing that can make this easier. Just about anything I would say would sound trite. But I want you to know I’m here for you. I know Mike is, too. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Jackson’s image popped into her head once more, and she had to momentarily shut her eyes to keep the pain from overwhelming her. “Is there anything I can do for her?” she finally asked.
“I think it helps more than you know to have you here. I know it’s not easy, but she’s generally calmer after your visits. I’d like you to come once a day, if you can, but don’t stay long. It’s not good for either of you.”
“I don’t want her to suffer.”
“Neither do I. You’ve already taken care of all the necessary paperwork. We’ll do whatever we can for her.”
“All right.” Cammy handed him the folder. “I’ll come back tomorrow. You’ll keep me informed?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks, Bruce.” She left his office with the unmistakable feeling that a storm lay on the horizon. She didn’t know when, or how, or even how severely, but soon, it would overtake her.
And the idea that she might not be ready for whatever happened scared her to death.
When she let herself into her apartment that night, her phone was ringing. She frowned at it. The afternoon had been worse than the morning. She’d been hounded all day by reporters who wanted interviews, politicians who wanted dirt, and lawyers who wanted blood. Jeffrey Herrington had announced that he was filing a joint suit with the ACLU against Wishing Star, and Congresswoman Meyerson had scheduled congressional hearings into the issue for a week from Monday. The press coverage had dropped from bad to terrible, and despite Macon’s best efforts, the situation looked increasingly grim.
This afternoon, a story had surfaced that Cammy had used her connection to Gordon Stratton to bypass the application procedure for grant money—which she hadn’t—and that she’d used that grant money to fund additional research into the speech development of children who received cochlear implants well into their formative years—which she had. Herrington had immediately argued that the research study was proof of Cammy’s continued pressure on the deaf children she treated to undergo the implant procedure, while Meyerson’s office had issued a statement calling for congressional support for a full legal inquiry.
The phone rang a fifth time, and the answering machine picked it up. “Cammy?” It was Macon’s voice. “Hon, I don’t know if you’re there, but if you get this, you’d better turn on the news. And then you’d better call me. Tonight. I know you don’t want to do it, but I think you’re going to have to respond to this publicly. We’ll talk about it.”
Macon hung up. Cammy reached immediately for the remote control to her TV. She found the network station, then dropped onto the couch at the sight of Jeffrey Herrington, flanked by Congresswoman Meyerson and a host of other political activists, announcing the terms of his lawsuit against her. Phrases like “inappropriate conduct,” “unethical practices,” “abuse of power,” and “negligent behavior,” floated through her mind in a blur. Rage and something else, something she strongly suspected was disappointment, roiled around in her mind. She shut her eyes in exhaustion.
When the phone rang, Herrington was still performing for the cameras. Cammy lifted a weary hand to answer it. “Macon?”
A long breath preceded the deep voice that said, “No. It’s me.”
Her heart rate accelerated. Jackson. “Oh.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t take my call.”
“I’m trying to end my relationship with you, not act like a thirteen-year-old.”
“I called you several times today.”
“I was out of the office.” When he didn’t respond, she insisted. “I was. Didn’t Mike tell you?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t believe him?”
His soft chuckle warmed her. “I guess I’m the one who’s acting thirteen.”
She didn’t think it should feel so good just to have him on the other end of her phone line, but decided not to fight it. She tucked her feet beneath her and sank lower into the couch. “Did you want something?” she asked him.
“Besides you, you mean?”
“Jackson—”
“Don’t bother. I didn’t call you to argue.” He paused. “Did you catch Herrington’s press conference?”
“I’m watching it now—or at least the network highlights.”
“The real thing was worse.”
“That’s comforting. Did you go?”
“I got someone to go for me. I was afraid that my presence would make things more difficult.”
“Probably.”
“Cammy, listen, I know you’re exhausted, so I’m not going to keep you. Mike told me your mother isn’t doing well at all.”
“She’s not.”
“Did you see her today?”
“Yes.”
“You okay with that?”
The sting of tears surprised her. Jackson was probably the most tender man she knew, and it never fai
led to get to her. “Yes,” she told him, though her voice sounded rough.
He hesitated. She could almost hear him wondering if he should push. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Okay.”
She heard him mumble something. “I wish you’d let me come over there.”
“You can’t.”
“You’re driving me crazy.”
“Join the club,” she managed to quip.
His sharp exhalation of breath seemed to crackle between them. “All right. I’ll let you win this round, but I want my objection noted for the record.”
“Deal.”
“Now, I just wanted to make sure you knew two things before you went to bed tonight. First, things aren’t as bleak as they appear. I’ve got another meeting with Meyerson in the morning. I think I’m about to have her convinced that this isn’t in her best political interest.”
Cammy’s gaze flicked to the TV. “She looks pretty rabid in this press conference.”
“That was before I talked to her this evening.”
A sudden chill had her reaching for a cotton blanket. “You don’t have to do this.”
“You’ve got no idea, do you?”
“What?”
“You have no idea how many people are on your side. Did you know that the woman who runs Amy’s foster facility is ready to testify that all the children you’ve treated have shown remarkable improvement, that some have even been able to make the transition to public school because of you?”
She frowned. “She is?”
“Yes. Or that the parents of some of your Wishing Star kids have been burning up my phone lines since the story hit this afternoon? Everyone wants to help you, Cam.” He paused. “Let them.”
She watched the parade of anger across her TV screen a few seconds longer. Pulling the blanket closer around her, she said, “What was the other thing?”
“What?”
“The other thing. You said you had two things to tell me.”
“Oh. You know, you’re losing your ability to shift a conversation subtly.”
“I’m tired.”
“I know.” His voice dropped softly. “I’m really worried about you.”