Healing Hearts

by Syndi Powell

  “Kate is my daughter, but Zach is very good at protecting her. For all I know, she always showed them. But he was about sixteen when I first learned of it. Christmas Eve, and she seemed okay. We had dinner, opened gifts and went to Mass. On the way home from church, she started talking about stopping by the police station to see Robert. The thing is, Bobby had died five years before.”

  “She thought he wasn’t with the family because he was working?”

  Mrs. Rossi nodded and wrung her hands together. “We dropped them off at home and figured it was just the stress of the holidays.”

  “But it got worse.”

  “Zach finally admitted to us that she’d been having erratic behavior for years.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I should have seen it. I should have known. But that boy had it solely on his shoulders for all that time.”

  “You can’t blame yourself. He hid it from you.”

  “He was afraid we’d take her away and put her in a hospital.”

  She should have known that was why he was so reluctant to take his mom to the emergency room. He didn’t want to lose her to the doctors or the disease. The problem was that he couldn’t have both. The way the disease progressed would take her away eventually.

  April squeezed the older woman’s hand. “Thank you for sharing this with me. Zach is lucky to have you.”

  Mrs. Rossi patted her cheek. “I could say the same about you.”

  April left their house with a container of leftovers that she planned on enjoying during her break the next day at work. She put the container on the passenger seat and drove home, thinking about what she and Mrs. Rossi had discussed. When she got home, she put the leftovers in the fridge, brought her laptop in the living room and sat on the sofa while she searched for Alzheimer’s treatments that could be done at home. She knew Zach had nurses round the clock, but there might be something else he could do.

  Her cell phone buzzed, and she tore her eyes from the computer to glance at the other screen. A text from Zach. Sorry for leaving early. This is my life.

  She swiped the home button and entered her code. Pressed the message program and reread the text. How is she?

  She watched a few bubbles form on the next line and waited for his response. Fine.

  She doubted that, but she wasn’t going to call him out on it. Instead, she put her cell phone on the coffee table a few feet in front of her and tried to ignore its existence. She went back to the computer, but caught herself glancing at the phone. She shook her head and concentrated on the article about home care options. Well, tried to concentrate. After rereading the same sentence four times, she picked up her cell phone. How are you?

  Fine, too.

  Somehow I don’t believe that.

  She waited a moment for him to respond, but gave up and put the phone next to her on the sofa. She exited out of the article she’d been reading and typed in the search engine: “taking care of the caregiver.” Most of the results were geared toward those already caring for a family member. She did find an article written by a husband of a woman who was helping her aged mother. He described little things he did to help his wife as she poured all her energies into looking after someone else. She snatched a notepad and pen from a basket at the foot of the sofa and wrote down some ideas. She could do this for Zach.

  Her phone buzzed. You don’t know what it’s like.

  He was right about that. She didn’t know. But she remembered what it was like to fight her own disease. So explain it to me.

  How much time do you have?

  She smiled and swiped her finger over the words of his text. All night if you need it.

  Her phone stayed silent, and she returned to her computer. She clicked on another article about self-care suggestions for caregivers when her phone started ringing. She smiled as she answered it. “Hi, Zach.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “Because you seem like a good man.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not what you thought when we first met.”

  “Maybe I’ve changed my mind since then.”

  She settled into the pillows on the sofa as he described what he’d been doing to take care of his mom. She didn’t offer suggestions or solutions. She simply sat back and let him talk. And he had a lot to say. She guessed that he’d been holding on to most of these thoughts, afraid to share. But now that the dam had broken, they poured out of him, swirling waters of emotions flowing with the words. She had to grab a tissue once to stem her own emotions but kept listening.

  After forty minutes, he sighed on the other end. “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I didn’t realize all of that was in there.”

  She smiled. “Then I’m glad I was around to hear it.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ZACH RUBBED HIS eyes and tipped back in his office chair. Glancing at the clock on his computer, he noted it was just past eleven and he’d finally finished his last phone call of the morning. Well, second-to-last phone call. He dialed Chris’s number and waited while it rang. The voice mail message started, then immediately stopped. “Just a minute, man. I’m right here.”

  He knew phoning his new client during his honeymoon probably wouldn’t make him agent of the year, but his reason for the call just might. Patiently, he waited until Chris came back on the line. “You’ve got news, don’t you?”

  Zach smiled, even though the kid couldn’t see him. “Chicago has come back with a counteroffer to what we presented. But I think you’ll be pleased.”

  “How many millions pleased?”

  “Four point two for two years with a five million bonus if you sign for a third.” Zach smiled. “I told you that you’d like it.”

  “This is the best wedding present you could have given us.”

  “Then I can take back the bread maker I gave you?” Zach shifted and looked out his window at the cloudy skies. “Enjoy your honeymoon. We’ll hammer out the finer details when you return in a couple days.”

  “Thanks again, man. You delivered everything you promised.”

  Zach hung up the phone, pleased with himself. He was known for making things happen for his clients. He used to believe the same about helping his mom. She needed him, and he was happy to be there for her. To take her to doctor appointments. To live with her so he could watch over her. But lately, the responsibility had started to chafe like a too-tight collar around his neck. Part of it was because her care required more than he could give. He no longer knew how to provide what she needed. When he was a little boy, she needed his smiles and hugs. As he got older and the disease started to take hold of her mind, she needed someone to take responsibility. And he’d gladly shouldered that. He was her only child so he had felt privileged to be able to do this for her. Lately, it had felt more like an obligation.

  He rested a hand on his cell phone. Talking to April the night before had helped unload some of the weight from his shoulders. She’d reassured him that he wasn’t a bad son because he’d begun to resent his mom. Said it was a normal part of being a caregiver to a loved one.

  She’d also recommended a support group, but he’d quickly put a kibosh on that. There was no way in the world he was going to sit in a group of strangers and tell them about his mom. He’d kept his mom’s illness a secret for so many years that sharing it felt like he was betraying her. He’d promised over the years to not tell anyone when she forgot appointments or how to drive home. She’d made him swear to keep what she called her slipups just between them. Until it had become necessary to tell his nonna because he was sixteen and afraid of his mom’s erratic behavior.

  He put his cell phone in his pocket and stood, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of his desk chair. He walked out of his office and stopped at Dalvin’s desk. “I’m going to lunch.”

  Dalvin squinted at the time on his computer. “It’s almost noo
n. Congratulations for eating lunch at a normal time today.”

  “Let me know when the contract from Chicago arrives, and set up a meeting with Antonio for next week. Lunch or dinner at that restaurant he likes in Ferndale.” He shrugged into his wool winter coat. “Do you want me to pick you up something while I’m out?”

  “Only if it’s gluten- and dairy-free.” Dalvin wrinkled his nose. “New diet.”

  Zach gave a nod. “I’ll try.” He left the office and took the elevator down to the parking garage. He slipped into his car and tried to muster enthusiasm for eating lunch alone. Most of his meals were eaten with clients or coaches. Otherwise, he ate at his desk while he answered emails or held conference calls. The thought of eating in his office left him feeling...alone.

  He should feel flush with success. He’d signed two clients in the past week with big futures in their respective sports. One a tennis pro, the other a graduating college senior who looked to go near the top in the upcoming football draft. He was on top of the world, right? So why did those victories feel empty?

  He pulled out of the parking garage and headed to the hospital. Maybe he could treat April to lunch to show his appreciation of her having listened to him. Whom was he kidding? He wanted to see her, plain and simple. It wasn’t the idea of eating alone that made him jumpy. It was the desire to catch a glimpse of her, if only for five minutes.

  Parking spots near the front of Detroit General were scarce, so he parked the car at the back and briskly walked to the doors of the emergency room. He stopped at the admissions desk and asked for April. The nurse looked him up and down, sporting a huge grin on her face. “So you’re the one.”

  He frowned at this. “Sorry?”

  “She’s had a spring in her step today. I assume you’re the reason.” She pressed a button on the phone on the desk, then picked up the receiver. “I’ll tell her you’re here. You can wait with the rest of them until she’s free.”

  He removed his coat and took a seat in the waiting room, questioning his decision. Hacking coughs, cuts and wounds, and what looked like a woman ready to give birth surrounded him. He watched as patients were taken one by one to the treatment area. He tapped his fingers on the armrests of the plastic molded chair he sat in. Glancing at his watch and noting the time, he stood and shrugged back into his coat.

  “Zach? Is everything okay?”

  He turned and smiled at April. “I’d hoped to take you to lunch, but I should have realized you’d be busy.”

  “One of the other doctors called in with a personal problem, so we’re short staffed. I’ll be lucky to grab a sandwich from the cafeteria later.” She patted his arm. “But thank you for thinking of me. That’s really sweet of you.”

  Zach blinked. Sweet? Was she already putting him in the friend zone? Not that his life allowed room for much more than friendship at the moment. “Maybe another time.”

  “I’d like that.” She glanced behind her and held up a finger to one of the nurses who had called her name. “They need me. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He nodded, watching as she sprinted down the hall toward the treatment area. Well, he’d wanted five minutes of her time, and he’d gotten almost that. He walked out to the parking lot and sat in his car. Still hungry, he debated his options. There was the diner across the street. As good as any, he figured and left his car to cross the avenue.

  * * *

  APRIL SNAPPED OFF the plastic gloves and threw them in a designated receptacle before leaving the empty trauma room. She shuddered at the bloody mess of gunshot wounds, something she’d gotten used to over the years. She’d left the northern Michigan tourist area she’d grown up in to come to the Detroit area because she’d wanted to help where it was needed most. And the need here overwhelmed her most days.

  She noticed a group of nurses and doctors gathered around the reception area where Janet usually directed traffic and answered calls. “I’m telling you, he dropped it off and told us to enjoy it.”

  April tapped one of the doctors on the shoulder. “What’s going on?”

  “Some guy bought lunch for all of us from Doc’s Diner across the street.” He held a bagel sandwich in one hand. “And he said to thank you for it.”

  April looked over at Janet, who confirmed it. “Your boyfriend is very generous. There’s enough food here for everyone on staff today.”

  Zach did this? They couldn’t have lunch together, so he’d brought food for the entire staff? There were boxes and boxes of sandwiches and salads. Everyone was looking at her. “He’s a friend.”

  “Nice friend.” The doctor with the bagel took a bite of his sandwich and walked off.

  The staff started to claim boxes and disappear where they could to get a quick bite before their next deluge of patients. April took a seat on the corner of Janet’s desk. “I was not expecting this.”

  “I told him he didn’t have to do it, but he insisted.” Janet sorted through the boxes and took one that held what looked like a salad. “If you don’t want him, will you give me dibs?”

  April peered at the white-haired nurse who was not only married, but a mother and grandmother. “You got it.”

  She randomly picked a container and opened it. Greek salad with grilled chicken, her favorite. She’d just gotten a plastic baggie that contained silverware and a napkin when the emergency room doors crashed open. Janet took the salad from April. “I’ll put this in the lounge for you.”

  She appreciated that. Lunch could wait because her patient being brought in on a gurney wouldn’t.

  Three hours later, April collapsed on the sofa in the staff lounge and closed her eyes. Her night-shift replacement would arrive shortly. She got up and walked to the fridge to find her salad. Janet had written her name in marker and an admonition to keep hands off. She smiled and grabbed it along with a bottle of water. She returned to the sofa and started to eat. Halfway through her meal, she grabbed her cell phone from her pocket and sent off a quick thanks to Zach.

  His response came instantly. U R welcome.

  You didn’t have to do that.

  Yes I did. U needed to eat. No big deal.

  April took another bite and smiled as she chewed. She could get used to being spoiled like this.

  But they were just friends. No reason to expect more.

  * * *

  APRIL SIGHED AND wound the yarn around her fingers as Perla had showed her. “What am I doing to mess this up? I’m not getting the hang of it.”

  Her friend Sherri’s mother, Perla, took the knitting needles and yarn from her and pulled out several stitches. “Knitting is supposed to relax you, not tie you up in knots.”

  “Well, knots are all I seem to know how to do.”

  April watched as Perla started the row over for her and handed it back to her. “You’re thinking too far ahead. Concentrate on the stitch you’re on. Not the next one.”

  She accepted the needles, then looped the yarn around them. She moved the knitting needle over, then under the yarn before completing the loop. It should be easy. Definitely looked that way when she had first seen Perla demonstrate it. But now, she noted the mess left on the needle and sighed again. “Whatever made me think that knitting was something to put on my second-chance list?”

  “Sherri mentioned that you were working your way through a list.” Using curved needles, she returned to her own project, which looked like socks. “How is that going?”

  April held up the needles. “About like this. It seemed simple enough when I first started writing what I wanted to do, but now, I’m having my doubts.”

  “What’s next on your list?”

  “I’m planning a trip to New York to see a Broadway musical, but it might have to be delayed until I have more time to do what I want to do. ” She did another stitch, then exclaimed when the yarn did what it was supposed to. “I did it!”

  �
�Because you’re thinking less.”

  “Story of my life. Think and not do.” She attempted another stitch and chastised herself as she had to remove it. “Some things on the list will have to wait for better weather or having time off. Some need money. But I’ll get them all done. Just you wait.”

  “Sherri’s mentioned making her own list.” Perla stopped knitting and stared off into space. “For when she’s better.”

  April reached over and touched the older woman’s hands. “She’ll get there. She’s almost finished with radiation, and then they’ll confirm the cancer is gone. And it is. I know it in my gut.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  April gave a small nod and returned to her row of uneven stitches. She wrinkled her nose and pulled out a few before attempting to make more. “I really appreciate you offering to teach me this.”

  “When Sherri mentioned it, I jumped at the chance. I’d hoped that she would want to learn, too, but she hates sitting around. Always on the go, that one.” Perla’s needles flashed as she knitted. “Trying to keep up with her brothers, I suspect.”

  “I miss my brother. He’s still up north in the UP.” She paused with the yarn and set it down in her lap. “It’s hard not having family in the area.”

  Perla gasped and put her hand to her mouth. “Well, why didn’t you say so? You’re more than welcome to join us for the holidays if you’re around.”

  “Thanks. I work most holidays so my colleagues with families can have the time off.” She picked up her knitting again. “And I hang out with friends sometimes.”

  “I’ll make sure Sherri invites you to the next family dinner.”

  “That would be nice. I’ve always thought that family is what you make it. You don’t have to be born into a family to belong to it.” She bit her lip as she tried a few more stitches, then surrendered and handed the chaos to Perla. “Can you show me one more time?”

  * * *

  ZACH NOTICED THE strange car parked in front of the house, but dismissed it since vehicles usually lined both sides of the street. Didn’t mean anyone was there. He pressed the key fob to lock his car doors and picked his way carefully through the ice and snow to the rear of the house. Opening the door, he could hear talking right away. Inside, he followed the voices to the dining room, where he found April speaking to Dolores. They had their heads bent over some papers on the table. The nurse looked up at him and started to gather what they’d been huddling about. “Sorry, I didn’t know when you’d be coming home.”