July 8, 2016
I did it! I’ve been “promoted”! I’m calling it that, but there’s no increase in pay, only an increase in clearance. I think the stories I’ve recently been telling about caring for my ill grandmother helped me get this additional duty.
Starting next week, I’ll be part of the residential room rotation. There are six women who eat all their meals in their rooms. Ms. Bali took me around to each of their rooms today, and I met three of them. The other three, including Claire, weren’t in their rooms. Before we went from room to room, I was shown how to review the ICP on each patient. That’s their “Individualized Care Plan.” I hadn’t been able to access more than the generic information before, but now I have a code where I can see specifics. Most ICPs include food allergies, likes, and dislikes.
Claire’s Food ICP was very specific, with certain rules spelled out:
Ms. Nichols will have three meals delivered each day. Upon delivery, attendants will assess Ms. Nichols’ ability to eat unassisted. If she engages, leave food and return to remove tray in thirty minutes. If she doesn’t engage, direct her to her table and explain your actions as you assist in feeding her.
Talking is recommended by Ms. Nichols’ doctors; however, Mrs. Vandersol will not allow any conversation regarding Ms. Nichols’ previous life. Under no circumstance can the name Anthony/Tony Rawlings be mentioned. If Ms. Nichols brings up this name, staff is to change the subject immediately and notify a supervisor.
Failure to adhere to the set rules will result in immediate dismissal.
I was surprised to see her room. Unlike the other rooms we visited, Claire’s looked generic and sterile. The colors were all pale. She didn’t have any pictures or personal items, other than her clothes and hygiene items. Even the bedspread and window treatments were neutral; there were no bold colors. Since Ms. Bali was with me, I couldn’t look around too much, but I mentioned the starkness in passing.
“Is this patient new?” Meredith knew the answer; nonetheless, she was fishing.
“No, this is Ms. Nichols, the patient you read about with the specific rules regarding discussion. She’s been here for over two years.”
“Her room isn’t as personalized as the other ones we’ve been in.”
Ms. Bali dismissed Meredith’s observation. “That’s none of our concern. It’s Mrs. Vandersol’s doing, and I do believe it goes along with the conversation rules.”
I wanted to ask more, but was afraid I’d raise suspicion. As we walked toward the kitchen, Claire passed us with a tall, pretty blonde woman. She looked our direction momentarily, but didn’t seem to recognize me. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I guess in a way it’s good. I’ve been concerned that she’d react as she did in the cafeteria the first time we saw one another. If she did that again when I entered her room, I surely wouldn’t be able to continue doing it.
After they passed, Ms. Bali whispered, “That was Ms. Nichols with Dr. Brown. It’s sad, you’ll see when you start visiting her, but she’s lost all sense of reality. You may have read the book about her, but she’s had a pretty rough life for someone so young. I keep hoping that one day she’ll snap out of it.”
Meredith paused for a moment before asking, “Is that possible? Can people really snap out of it?”
“I’ve been here for over twenty years, so I’ve seen a few cases; however, we shouldn’t keep our hopes up. Cases like that are extremely rare…”
I’m going to do some research and see if I can find out how you can facilitate that “snapping.” Oh, I told her I hadn’t read the book, but I’d look it up. Then she told me not to, that she probably shouldn’t have told me, and it would probably bias my opinion.
She has no idea how biased I already am!
Emily entered the waiting room of Everwood’s counseling center. She knew the facility backwards and forwards, and this was her favorite area—that is, if she had one at all. It was airy and open, with plenty of sunlight. They’d paid extra to get Claire a window that faced east. Emily knew her sister loved sun and hoped that the sunrises would help her; however, according to the reports, each morning when the staff entered her room they found her draperies still closed. At first, Emily had been more willing to entertain suggestions for Claire’s recovery, but with each passing day, week, and month, Emily’s optimism waned.
This was Emily’s bi-monthly meeting with Claire’s doctors, where she’d listen to their theories and suggestions. Once a month, she met with the administrators and discussed confidentiality. At those meetings, she emphasized the importance of maintaining her rules. With these obligations, as well as visiting Claire at least three times a week, Emily’s schedule was very full. She also had a family at home that needed her attention. That family was larger than it would have been without Claire, and for that reason, Emily swore she’d never be regretful. Nichol was a joy, whom she and John were honored to raise. Of course, sometimes she wondered if Michael suffered because of loss of attention, but then she’d see the two cousins interacting like siblings and realize, Nichol was a blessing, despite her parentage.
“Mrs. Vandersol,” the receptionist’s voice brought Emily back to present. “Dr. Brown is ready. May I take you back to her office?”
“No, Sherry, I know the way.”
Sherry smiled. “I’m sure you do. Please help yourself.”
As Emily walked the corridor toward the doctor’s office, she thought about Claire’s various doctors and therapists. At Everwood, every employee was female. Since a number of the residents were victims of domestic violence, the belief was that decreased male interaction helped to facilitate their recovery. Even male visitors were restricted to special rooms, away from the general population of patients. Emily had visited those rooms too, the first few times John visited. Now, at least once a month, he’d come visit Claire. The moment he laid eyes on Nichol, he abandoned his anger regarding Claire and Anthony’s reconciliation. John not only stepped up as an uncle and a father-figure, but also as a brother-in-law.
After everything happened—the incident—John needed to return to California. After all, he worked for SiJo and had obligations. Of course, Emily stayed in Iowa with Claire. At first, Claire was too frail and Nichol needed care; then there was the trial. With time and Emily’s pregnancy, traveling became difficult. Staying in Iowa was convenient; nonetheless, she never assumed they’d make it home. Truthfully, they didn’t consider it until Timothy Bronson approached John.
Tim was named acting CEO of Rawlings Industries by the board of directors, when Anthony initially disappeared. Although he was young, he’d proven himself to both the board and investors. Considering all she and John had done to harm Rawlings Industries, it seemed unbelievable that Tim would ask John to help rebuild the empire, or that the board of directors would approve his request. Tim did and so did the board. Emily recalled the lengthy discussions by both John and Tim and her and John. The final deciding factor was the court’s decision allowing Claire to enter a private mental-treatment facility. The court had one stipulation: Claire couldn’t leave Iowa. Prior to that, Claire had been in a state-run facility. It wasn’t awful, but Emily hated it. She visited almost every day to assure Claire’s well-being. Of course, back then, Emily’s hopes for her sister’s recovery were much higher.
There was no question, Everwood was a much better facility; nevertheless, Emily didn’t feel right leaving Claire and living across the country. In the beginning, Emily believed having Nichol near her mother would be beneficial. Unfortunately, those visits proved to be another failed attempt to facilitate Claire’s recovery. Once Nichol was old enough to understand the situation, Emily believed her niece’s best interest needed to be considered. Nichol hadn’t been to Everwood in over a year.
The court no longer dictated Claire’s treatment; as next of kin with power of attorney, Emily had complete control. Iowa was now their home, and John was gainfully employed by a recovering Rawlings Industries. Meredith Banks was right when she said Ni
chol didn’t lack for money, and neither did Claire. That was John’s incentive. This time, when he considered the offer to work for Rawlings, he wasn’t accepting charity from a family member. No, this time, he was providing help to his family. Claire and Nichol couldn’t manage or grow their fortune. Since Anthony was gone, John did what he’d done years earlier when Emily and Claire’s parents died. He stepped up.
Emily squared her shoulders and knocked on Dr. Brown’s open door. The pretty blonde psychiatrist stood and welcomed her, “Emily, please come in. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited Dr. Fairfield to join us today.”
It was then that Emily noticed the older gentleman sitting off to the side of the room. The fact he was male caught Emily by surprise. “Hello.” She extended her hand as Dr. Fairfield stood and shook it.
Before Emily could say more, Dr. Brown began, “I’ve asked Dr. Fairfield to join us today because he’s a research professor at Princeton, specializing in traumatic brain injuries. I heard him speak a few weeks ago at a conference and believe he could give us a fresh perspective on Claire.”
Emily sat taller. “Research? I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t want anyone experimenting on my sister. She’s been through enough already.”
Dr. Fairfield spoke with a thick English accent, “Mrs. Vandersol, I assure you, I’m only here to offer my opinion. I won’t use any of the data regarding Mrs. Rawlings without your permission.”
“Ms. Nichols, Doctor. I need you to understand that the name Rawlings may never be used in the presence of my sister. No exceptions.”
Dr. Fairfield looked toward Dr. Brown. Dr. Brown smiled and spoke, “Emily, I’ve only shared the medical information with Dr. Fairfield, nothing personal. I promise we’ll review all of that before he examines Claire. Currently, he’s only seen her CT scans and read my notes. I believe there’s something I’m missing. I don’t know what it is; however, Dr. Fairfield has documented cases of spontaneous recovery—”
Emily interrupted, “I’ve done my research. Most recoveries occur within the first year. After that, the likelihood is greatly diminished. Isn’t that right?”
Dr. Fairfield replied, “That’s correct; however, the cases to which Dr. Brown is referring were significantly outside the normal time period for recovery.” Emily contemplated his words as he added, “One case was four years out.”
Four years! Emily thought about that. It’d already been over two. She’d come to terms with the idea that Claire would never recover, but was that a life? “What does this mean? What will you do to Claire?”
Dr. Brown replied, “We need your permission for Dr. Fairfield to examine Claire and possibly perform more tests.”
“More tests? What other tests could you possibly perform which other doctors haven’t already done?”
The doctors spent the next forty minutes explaining Dr. Fairfield’s research. The tests weren’t invasive, and Emily’s rules would be maintained. They may introduce some medications or combination of medications that have been previously untried. First, Dr. Fairfield wanted to determine if the cause of her psychosis was indeed head injury, or if it could be something else.
Emily reluctantly shared Claire’s history. She didn’t like the idea of more treatment. After all, Claire was content. Why make her uncomfortable or uneasy? Then again, if there was even a remote possibility, Emily couldn’t say no.
That night, at home with John and the kids, she watched as Michael and Nichol played. When she looked at her niece, she saw Claire and the same carefree ambition her sister once possessed. She also saw the dark eyes of Anthony Rawlings. There were times she detested those eyes. When that negativity crept in, Emily reminded herself, nurture versus nature. Nichol wouldn’t know the life of revenge that her father had allowed to destroy him and anyone else unfortunate enough to be within his sphere of influence. Her eyes would see the world as a place of endless possibilities where love and forgiveness prevail. Emily vowed that with her and John’s help Nichol would see the world as her mother once had before…
July 15, 2016
I finally did it, but I don’t know if I’m happy or not. I delivered Claire’s lunch and was able to talk to her. When I entered her room, she was sitting at the window, looking out at the bright skies. Although I spoke and made noise, she didn’t acknowledge my entrance. At first, I hesitated to make eye contact.
What I didn’t realize was that I couldn’t. I stepped in front of Claire, but her expression didn’t change. She continued her gaze, exactly as it had been, as if I weren’t there at all. I tried speaking, quietly at first: then louder. Although she didn’t speak or look at me, she eventually got up and walked to the table where she allowed me to feed her.
After Claire ate about half of the lunch, she abruptly stood and walked back to the chair by the window.
Truthfully, I’d been so emotional while she ate that I’d forgotten to speak. When I looked at my watch, I realized I still had ten minutes before I was expected back to the kitchen, so I went back to her. Kneeling in front of her, I touched her knee…
“Claire, can you hear me?” Meredith desperately tried to keep emotion out of her voice; however, with the tears sliding down her cheeks, she wasn’t sure it was possible. Intellectually, Meredith knew the rules regarding Ms. Nichols. Truthfully, she wasn’t thinking. Her heart was breaking at the sight of her friend, now a shell of the vivacious woman she’d once been. “Claire, it’s me, Meredith. Don’t you remember me? We went to Valparaiso together…” Meredith was careful not to mention Anthony, Nichol, or anything else from the last six years. She did, however, ramble on for ten minutes about life as it had been when they were college students.
Never once did Claire’s expression change; although, at some point, she began humming. Undeterred, Meredith rambled about their sorority house and Chicago. It wasn’t until Meredith was out of Claire’s room, nearing the kitchen, that Claire’s tune resonated in her mind. Meredith recognized the song: Take Me Out To The Ball Game—the seventh inning stretch at Wrigley.
July 15th, 2016 continued:
I want to believe she heard and understood. I don’t know—maybe I’m grasping at straws. After all, most of what I’ve read says that if recovery isn’t made in the first year, it rarely happens—but that song! I was talking about Chicago and baseball games. I don’t think I even mentioned the Cubs or Wrigley, but I know I mentioned baseball…
Without a doubt, I know she was humming “Take Me Out To The Ball Game!”
Chapter Eleven
Contentment consists not in adding more fuel, but in taking away some fire.
—Baldwin Fuller
Claire marveled at the shades of blue as the small plane circled over the island, completing the final leg of their journey. Although her mind constantly went back to her honeymoon, Claire reminded herself this was another place and another time. On her honeymoon in Fiji, Tony was with her, and he was in control.
Here, instead of Tony, she had Phil by her side. With each passing day, Claire appreciated his devotion and presence more and more. His honesty exposed her true threat, and his skills freed her from Catherine and the FBI, keeping her and her baby safe. She knew, without a doubt, she wouldn’t be where she was without him, yet despite all they’d experienced, their roles were so different than anything she’d ever known with Tony. In every matter of importance, Claire had control. After all, her money purchased this paradise retreat. Phil presented her with choices, but every decision was hers. At times, that power was intoxicating; at other times, it was daunting. After years of submission, it was a whole new way to live. Surprisingly, there were times she found herself missing the sense of security that accompanies that loss of responsibility.
As the scenes below her, those of a tropical paradise, bright blues, greens, and whites faded from her consciousness, Claire recalled memories of her recent life in Iowa, the one she left, walked away from, or more accurately, the one from which she ran. In the depths of her heart, she knew, for a short
time, she had everything she wanted and more. She and Tony had an understanding; he had the control he needed, but so did she. She came and went as she pleased. Yes, she informed him first, but that was it. Claire informed Tony. She didn’t ask permission, nor did she seek his approval. He allowed it because they trusted one another. In the pit of her stomach, Claire knew she’d been the one to break that trust—to break the promise they’d made in their meadow of confessions. Perhaps that was Catherine’s plan: by convincing Claire to flee, Catherine successfully broke the trust she and Tony had built. Even if Tony contacted her, Claire wondered: could it be rebuilt?
What they had, before Catherine took it all away, was the perfect blend. Claire knew her sister, Emily, would never understand, and with the recent news of Meredith’s book’s pending publication, the rest of the world would probably never understand. Claire wished she could explain. Thankfully, she didn’t need to. It was one of Phil’s most endearing qualities. He didn’t pry.
Understandably, she never gave Phil the word for word, action for consequence, reminiscence of her life with Tony. At least, not like she’d done with Harry; nevertheless, Phil’s job involved knowing. If he hadn’t been good at his job, then he’d never sent the note in San Diego. Phil knew her past and never once had he questioned Claire about it; instead, Phil encouraged. He encouraged her to stay strong, protect her child, and trust her instincts. Right now, although she longed to hear from Tony, her instincts told her that she was finally safe. They reassured her that the trust she’d bestowed on Phil wasn’t misplaced. For once, she’d made a right decision.
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 128