by Holly Jacobs
“Thank you, doctor.” Stephan maneuvered Carolyn back to Emma’s room, practically shutting the door in the doctor’s face once they were safely inside.
Caro appeared shell-shocked as she walked over and sat on the side of Emma’s bed, taking her daughter’s small hand in hers. When she turned to meet his eyes, she had tears in hers. “Stephan…”
She didn’t say anything else, as if she didn’t have the heart.
“Caro, I meant what I said. We’ll find another opinion. We’ll get a lot of other opinions. Maybe there’s something more they can try. Some new treatment, some new therapy. If it’s out there, we’ll find it. I’ll find it. And if not, if it comes to finding someplace for Emma after this—”
“She will come out of the coma.”
“Yes, but maybe she’ll do it somewhere other than here. If we need to move her, I’ll find the best facility in the States for her.” He stood beside Carolyn. Despite her size, her spirit had always made her seem much bigger, but now she looked even smaller.
Gently he touched her cheek, making her look up at him. “Caro, for right now, trust me to stay with her while you go home, get a shower, get some real rest. You can’t make a decisions, hell you can’t even help Emma fight when you’re this exhausted. Trust me.”
She shook her head.
Stephan eased closer to her. “Caro,” he said in the softest, most soothing voice he could muster. “I swear, I won’t leave her alone. I’ll sit here with her until you come back.”
She stared up at him, more fragile than he’d ever seen her. “I talk to her,” she said quietly. “I talk to her all the time hoping she’ll hear me and find her way back to me.”
“She knows my voice, and I’d like to think she loves me, at least a little. I’ll talk to her while you’re not here. I’ll hold on to her, Caro. You can trust me.”
She was wavering, Stephan could see it, so he pressed a bit harder. “Caro, I love Emma as if she were my own. I swear, I won’t leave her. When she comes out of this, she’s going to need your support, and right now, you don’t look like you can stand without some support of your own.”
Caro gave him a tiny smile and he knew he’d won. “You always were bossy.”
“And you never did listen. Listen this time, Caro. Trust me. Go home for the day. I’ll wait.”
Sure, she had a slight frame, but Stephan could see her core of pure steel. She’d make it through this, and if anyone could will Emma back, it would be Carolyn Kendal.
“My parents are going to be furious that you’re playing into my delusions.” She offered him another weak smile.
“They’ve been mad at me before and I survived.”
She kissed Emma’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon,” she promised.
“Go. Don’t drive. Take a cab.”
“But—”
He interrupted what he was sure would be her protest. “Caro, you haven’t really slept in days. I’ll worry the whole time if you drive. Take a cab.”
“Fine. Don’t think that just because you won a few battles today, I’ll continue to let you win.”
“The fact I’ve won is a clear indication that you need some sleep. I’m sure I’ll go back to losing our spats as soon as you’ve recharged.”
She nodded. “Bet on it.”
“I’ll start making calls about second opinions and possible rehabilitation clinics while you’re gone. I swear to you, no matter what it costs, she’ll have the best care there is.”
Carolyn stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Stephan.”
“Thank you for trusting me with her.”
“Of all the people in my life, you’re the only one who’s never let me down. I know you’ll take care of Emma, too.”
CHAPTER THREE
“WELL, EMMA, IT’S JUST you and me for a while. We’ve got a lot to do, so let’s get at it.”
For an hour and a half Stephan burned up the hospital’s phone lines, using every contact he had to find the best doctors in pediatric neurology nationwide. He arranged to send Emma’s records not just to Paula, in Detroit, but to three other renowned neurologists.
He gathered the names of three facilities for Emma for after she was discharged from the hospital, one of which, Haven Rehabilitation Hospital, specialized in working with children with traumatic brain injuries. He’d felt as if he was learning a new language the first time he’d heard the initials TBI, but after a few calls, he was comfortable with them, finding them gentler, somehow, than the words traumatic brain injuries. Haven Rehab claimed to use new therapy techniques that stimulated the brain into healing itself.
“We’re making progress, squirt,” he told Emma as he circled another number Paula had given him and dialed yet another clinic. He was about to press the last button when the door opened and Carolyn’s mother entered.
She was an average-looking woman, on the petite side. Stephan was pretty sure that if she topped five feet, it was just barely. She was neither skinny nor overweight. Her brown hair had been graying for as long as Stephan could remember, and somewhere along the way the gray had won out. There was only the merest hint of its former color. She wore glasses to read, and they hung from a chain when not in use.
She smiled as she spotted him.
“Mrs. Kendal.”
“Stephan.” She walked into the room. “Where’s Carolyn? Were you able to convince her that staying is fruitless?”
“She agreed to go home to get some sleep.” He didn’t want to mislead Mrs. Kendal, so he added, “But she’ll be back later.”
“So she’s continuing her absurd vigil.” Mrs. Kendal sounded disappointed. “We’d hoped you could convince her she can’t just sit in the hospital forever. That you’d make her realize Emma won’t be getting better.”
He remembered how Carolyn had felt about people talking like that in front of Emma. From everything he’d learned today, she might be right. No one knew what people in comas could hear or understand. “Mrs. Kendal, maybe we can discuss this in the hallway.”
Carolyn’s mother gave him a look that all but said, not you, too, but she followed him anyway. “She can’t hear me, she’s gone.”
“She’s not gone. There’s still a chance she’ll wake up. Last night, I stayed because Carolyn needed me to. However, she’s right, the facilities and people I’ve since spoken to all agree there’s no sure science to this. There’s no definitive point when you can write someone off with confidence. There may come a day when Carolyn feels that Emma has reached that undefinable tipping point and slipped to somewhere she can’t come back from. On that day, Carolyn will have to let go, but that day’s not today.”
“Stephan, Carolyn’s father and I love her, but I can’t keep making this trip from Columbus.” She leaned against the blue-and-white tiled wall. “We asked for your help.”
“And you’ve got it,” he assured her. “You’re exhausted, I can see that. I’ve made arrangements at work so I can stay here for a while. You go home and I’ll look after Carolyn and Emma for now.”
“The longer we let Carolyn delude herself that Emma is coming back, the more it will hurt when she realizes she’s not.”
“Maybe one day that will happen, but like I said, Mrs. Kendal, today’s not the day.” And not ever, if there was anything love or money could do to prevent it.
Stephan thought Mrs. Kendal was going to argue further, but she just shook her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Stephan Foster. I’ll go in and say goodbye to Emma, then I’ll leave you to it. Tell Carolyn I’ll call tonight.”
She gave him a look that spoke volumes. It said she was disappointed in him, that she was going to blame him for any more pain Carolyn suffered. He didn’t try to deny it. She was suffering, and needed someone to blame. He’d seen it in legal cases. People wanted to put a face on their pain, whether their target deserved it or not.
He watched through the door as Mrs. Foster leaned down and whispered something to Emma, then kissed the little g
irl’s forehead. She turned and walked back into the hall.
“Mrs. Kendal.” He wasn’t sure what to say. Apologizing wouldn’t help. Nothing he said was going to ease her suffering, so in the end, he settled for, “Drive safely.”
She nodded and left without looking back.
Her shoulders were stooped and she moved slowly. He walked back into Emma’s room. The Kendals, like Dorian Gray, had always seemed ageless. Timeless.
But today, before his eyes, Carolyn’s mother had become old.
He knew they’d been weathering the tragedy, just as Carolyn had. He wished there was something more he could do for the entire Kendal family, but he couldn’t think of anything other than what he was already doing—sitting with Emma, supporting Carolyn, talking to specialists and sorting out facilities. So he went back to the calls. When he finished, he said, “I can’t think of anyone else to call, Em.”
The room was silent except for the sound of the machine.
He watched the second hand of the clock tick from second to second.
“Did your mom ever tell you about the night you were born?” he asked. “No?”
It was easy to get lost in the past. “We were at the summer cottages. My family’s is right next door to your grandma and grandpa’s, and when we were young, your mom and I met there in Heritage Bay. As we got older, we only came out for short visits, and for years, our visits hadn’t overlapped at all. That changed the year you were born, I’d come with my fiancée, Ardith. You met her when you were small, although you probably don’t remember. And your mom was already married to your dad. Your dad, he’d brought your mom out to stay with your grandma and grandpa. You weren’t due to be born for another month, and he thought your mom being pampered for a couple weeks would be good for her.
“Oh, Emma, you should have seen her. Your mom’s so small and her stomach was huge. When I saw her, I didn’t think it looked as if she could possibly wait another month to have you, and it turned out, I was right…”
1988
STEPHAN FELT A SENSE OF coming home as he eased the car into the driveway at his family’s cottage and turned off the ignition as Lynda Ronstadt and James Ingram crooned “Somewhere Out There” over the Land Rover’s radio. Ardith shot him a look that said she was annoyed he’d stopped it halfway through. The song was her favorite ever since it’d won a Grammy last year.
“Let’s go,” he said, stepping out onto the gravel drive and taking in everything. The cottage in Heritage Bay had always felt more like home than the house in Detroit. The structure was a bit weatherworn and the tan clapboards would need to be painted soon. He made a mental note to talk to his father about it. If his father was too busy, maybe he’d offer to make the arrangements while they were visiting. The gray-blue shutters matched the colors of the water today.
The Kendal’s cottage was the twin of his family’s. The only difference—their shutters were gray-green.
It wasn’t his family’s cottage that said home, he realized. It was both of them of them together, his family’s and the Kendals’. The two places on the lake were home.
“Well?” he asked his fiancée, smiling with pride.
“This is it?” Ardith’s lack of enthusiasm was evident in her tone. She’d been less than keen about coming out for the summer, but because he’d played his parent card, knowing Ardith desired nothing more than to please her future in-laws, she’d finally agreed to spend two weeks at the cottage.
“This is it,” he confirmed for her.
He took a deep breath and could smell the lake, mixed with summer heat. Ardith would argue that you couldn’t smell heat, and he knew he’d never convince her, but he could.
Ardith was still scowling at the two-story beach house, with its sandy yard and sagging porch. Maybe it did look a bit run-down, but it was sound and he wanted to find some way to show her how great it was. He tried, “You can look out the back windows and see the lake.”
The knowledge didn’t seem to make her any happier. He had one more idea. “Just think of the tan you can get.”
That elicited a slight smile. “I promised I’ll try it out, and I will, but—”
“But your idea of a vacation isn’t a cottage on the lake.” He knew that his fiancée was more of a touring-Europe or hitting-a-spa sort of vacationer. A quiet couple of weeks in the middle of nowhere just wasn’t her idea of fun. “I appreciate you giving it a chance.” He kissed her cheek. “And I think you’re going to learn to love it. We’ve got great neighbors….”
As if on cue, Carolyn Kendal—Carolyn Adams—he had to start thinking of her as Adams—walked out of the neighboring cottage. Well, actually walked wasn’t the most accurate description…waddled was. He’d never say it to her face, but he was pretty sure she was as wide as she was tall.
“Come on, Ardith, speaking of neighbors, there’s someone you’ve got to meet.”
Ardith let out a long-suffering sigh and trailed after him as he hurried toward Carolyn. He knew the man following her had to be her husband, Ross Adams.
“Hey, Elf,” he called as a greeting.
The look she shot him was as dark as the sky over the lake could be, and just as filled with warning.
“Don’t say it.” Carolyn’s tone was dangerous. He’d known her far too long and simply took her obvious anticipated annoyance as a challenge.
“You look—”
“Stephan.”
“Gorgeous.”
Her expression started to relax, then she eyed him suspiciously. He knew he was grinning and knew the expression would egg her on even more. Some things never changed, and Carolyn’s reaction to an imagined slight was one of them.
“For what it’s worth, I know what you’re thinking, Stephan Foster.” She shook a finger at him. “I always know. And I know that gorgeous wasn’t your first word of choice. Beached whale, maybe? Or maybe you were going to say that I looked good for someone wearing a circus tent for a top? Or, how about comparing me to that first VW Bug you drove when you were a senior?”
“You know, Elf, I don’t have to bother coming up with zingers. Never did. You do all the work for me.”
She growled, which made him laugh, and eventually, she did, as well. They hugged. Her stomach got in the way, which made him laugh harder.
“Just stop,” she said, though her expression said she knew he wasn’t going to. “And you’ve totally forgotten your manners. Ardith, I’m Carolyn. I’ve heard a lot about you. Ardith and Stephan this is my husband, Ross.”
Handshakes were passed around like Milk Duds at the theater.
Stephan knew all about Ross. He and Carolyn had met in college. Ross Adams was three years older than Caro, a dark-haired man who looked as if he was built for a job in construction, rather than the one he had in finance.
“We were on our way out, but maybe we can all get together later?” Carolyn asked.
“As long as it’s tonight,” Ross added. “I can’t take any more time off and have to head back to Cleveland first thing in the morning.”
There was a look that passed between Carolyn and her husband that made Stephan wonder what was wrong. But they both pasted on smiles and waved goodbye, agreeing to meet later. As they walked away, Ross had leaned toward Carolyn, saying something that she didn’t like. She had turned to look at him, and Stephan could see unhappiness on her face, written in her body language.
Suddenly, she looked toward Stephan and their eyes met. The old friendship was still there, although it had been a long while since their summer visits had coincided. He turned away as his parents came out of their cottage to greet them. Soon Ardith was busy making plans for a day trip to Put-in Bay with his folks. At the thought of shopping, her mood had improved considerably.
As they spoke, Stephan couldn’t help but notice the huge shadows the clouds were casting on the sand. As the wind kicked up a notch, the shadows sped up.
If he and Carolyn were younger, they’d be out there now, chasing those shadows.
The thought made him smile.
THE NEXT DAY, CAROLYN couldn’t help but reflect on the fact Stephan had grown up well. When they were young, he’d avoided the barber like the plague in the summer, so his dark-brown hair had been a wild mass of waves that, as the summer progressed, began to curl. Since then, his waves had been tamed, and the freckles that had once sprinkled his nose had faded. And in place of his youthful insecurities there was an air of confidence radiating from him.
Carolyn sat on the back deck, staring out at the choppy lake water and rubbed where her navel used to be. Her stomach had expanded to such an extent that all that was left of her former belly button was a slight impression. Ross found her new shape off-putting, not that he said so, but Carolyn could sense it in the way he no longer touched her. Whereas she found every little change in her body fascinating and reveled in it. She was so big now that she could make out body parts as the baby moved. A foot here, an elbow there. She wasn’t sure her guesses were correct, but it didn’t matter, she loved imagining her child nestled inside her.
Even more, she loved imagining what it would be like in just a few short weeks to hold him or her. The doctor had offered to tell her the sex of the baby, but she’d declined. She wanted to be surprised.
As she’d taken her childbirth classes, frequently on her own because Ross had some meeting or reason not to go, she’d imagined the moment when her baby finally slipped into the world and the doctor would say, “It’s a…” She’d imagined it both ways.
It’s a boy.
It’s a girl.
Her elation was the same either way, because in the end it didn’t matter to her. She only wanted a healthy baby. Ross said he did, as well, and she knew he was trying, but he wasn’t enough of an actor to convincingly fake it. He was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of becoming a father, but she assumed his apprehension would fade the minute he met their baby, held her or him in his arms for the first time. So she’d concentrated on how he’d act once the baby was finally here, rather than on how he was acting now.