There was no sound; nevertheless, Emily’s lips were moving, Claire was nodding and shaking her head, answering questions that Meredith couldn’t hear. John’s blotchy face caught Meredith’s attention as he knelt next to Emily with his hand on Claire’s knee. Dr. Fairfield and Dr. Brown were observing and conversing near the far corner.
“What happened?” Meredith finally asked, choking back the emotion which bubbled in her chest.
“When the staff arrived to Ms. Nichols’ room to help her shower, she was already showered and dressed. Then she told them she didn’t want eggs for breakfast; she wanted fruit.” As Valerie recounted the scene that sent every member of Claire’s care team into overdrive, Valerie couldn’t contain her smile.
Meredith, however, was having difficulty holding back her tears. “Do they think this is real? I mean, will it last?”
“Oh, Dr. Fairfield is beside himself. Ms. Russel, he’s invited you to join them. Your care has helped in getting Ms. Nichols to this point.”
Meredith knew that was true, but she also knew Claire’s public declaration was done for one reason—to save her. If she entered that room, then she’d defeat Claire’s efforts. Unable to keep the emotion from her voice, Meredith replied, “I want to, but seeing her with her sister and brother-in-law… I don’t want to interrupt this family moment. Besides, I don’t want her to see me crying. I don’t want to upset her.”
Valerie placed her hand comfortingly on Meredith’s shoulder. “I understand. This has been very emotional for everyone.”
“May I see her later this afternoon? I’m not scheduled to work, but I’d like to bring her dinner to her, if I may?”
“I don’t see why not. Does Ms. Bali have your number?”
“Yes, she does.”
“If there are any concerns, we’ll call you; otherwise, please come back.” Valerie patted her shoulder. “Ms. Nichols mentioned you by name. She does appreciate all that you’ve been doing for her.”
Meredith couldn’t answer; the soft tears now flowed too freely. She took one last look at the scene through the window, nodded to Valerie, and left the observation room. After retrieving a tissue from her purse, Meredith walked to the kitchen offices. Ms. Bali would want to know what happened and transformed their meeting.
As soon as Meredith reached her car, she called her husband. In retrospect, she understood how he misconstrued her tears. Of course, he thought she’d been arrested. When she explained what Claire did, he promised a celebratory dinner. Meredith agreed, with one stipulation: it needed to be a late one. First, she wanted to come back and see Claire, after the Vandersols left.
Six steps. That’s the length of Claire’s trek near her bed. Her mind swirled with the onslaught of new information. It was all she could do to slow thoughts. The repetitive counting, as she methodically paced back and forth, helped to calm her: One, two, three, four, five, six—turn—one, two…
She told herself this technique was normal. Not crazy.
No matter how much she tried to focus on other issues, Meredith kept coming to Claire’s thoughts. What if she stayed away or didn’t know what Claire had done? What if she didn’t come back?
Unfortunately, Claire knew the answer to her own questions. That knowledge propelled her steps. If Meredith didn’t return, there’d be no one to help Claire remember the man she loved. No one to help her remember the man who would never return. Meredith was the only person willing to break the rules. Four, five, six—turn—one. Oh, Claire knew rules, but this rule couldn’t be maintained. As much as she wanted to show everyone that she could behave, obeying this rule wasn’t an option.
Claire knew her memories weren’t right. There were gaps the size of craters! When Claire tried to remember Tony, real memories mixed with illusions. Meredith’s stories helped her remember; they helped to bring color back to the dimming scenes from her past. As Claire tried to recall specific times from her past, panic bubbled up from her chest. Two—three, four, five, six—turn—one, two. Sometimes she’d be able to picture a place, but not the faces. Other times she’d imagine the faces, but the scents were gone. Her pacing quickened as she feared her sacrifice, telling everyone she was getting better, was all for naught.
Concentrating on his face, the color of his eyes, and the scent of his cologne, the sound of the opening door or moving cart didn’t register. Perhaps ignoring the worker was a conscious decision. Claire was tired of talking. Turn—one, two, three. The day had been so full! There’d been so many different people asking so many questions. She wanted time to process, time to sort things out, time to spend alone with Tony. Yes, she knew that wouldn’t truly happen; nevertheless, memories were better than nothing.
Claire didn’t notice the woman beside her until she felt the hand on her arm. Turning toward the touch, her friend’s voice quieted the numbers and slowed the torrent of thoughts. Although she hadn’t heard what Meredith was saying, Claire bowed her head and whispered, “Oh, thank God… I was worried about you.”
“About me?” Meredith lifted Claire’s chin. “What about you? Are you all right?” Hugging her friend, she added, “Thank you!”
Walking toward the table where Meredith had placed Claire’s food, Claire replied, “I’m tired… That’s normal though… isn’t it?”
Smiling, Meredith nodded. “Yes, Claire, it is. But what you did, oh my God, it was beyond normal. It was amazing!”
“I can’t lose you… Please don’t follow the rules” Claire spoke in quiet short bursts. “I need you to help me remember… You’re my only connection to him.”
“What you did was a big risk. You told me you weren’t ready. Thank you.” Reaching for Claire’s hand, Meredith squeezed and said, “I’m not your only connection. Did you talk to Emily about Nichol?”
Claire’s relieved smile disappeared. “I did… She doesn’t want me to see her… Not yet… Until they’re sure… I’m better.”
Meredith’s heart broke. “What do you want?”
“She showed me pictures.” Claire’s voice lightened. “She’s beautiful!” Lifting her moist green eyes toward Meredith, Claire added, “I want to hold her… in my arms.” When she closed her eyes, a renegade tear slid down her cheek. “I’ve missed so much.”
“But there’s so much more to experience. We’ll get you better. You’ll be holding Nichol in your arms soon.” Meredith questioned, “How did your family reunion go?”
Claire sighed and shrugged her shoulders. She lifted her fork and began to eat. After a few bites, she offered, “There were a lot of questions… I’m tired of talking.”
“It’s all right. You don’t need to tell me anything.”
Hurriedly, Claire offered, “I didn’t tell them your last name… I just said… Meredith… That won’t get you in trouble… Will it?”
“No, I’m using Jerry’s last name, Russel.”
Claire exhaled. “Good… can you keep visiting? … Will you… Please?”
“Oh, yes!”
Though most of her sentences were incomplete and her words slowed with each sentence, Claire told Meredith she didn’t know what to do when Emily and John walked in. The last memories she could recall of her sister, Emily was mad at her. Thankfully, Emily wasn’t mad; instead, she was relieved! During most of the meeting, they talked about Nichol.
It was a much busier day than Claire had experienced in a long time. Although it wasn’t late, after Claire stopped eating, Meredith asked if she wanted help getting ready for bed. Claire didn’t want to accept Meredith’s help. She’d already accepted too much; nevertheless, fatigue prevailed.
Soon, Claire was in her nightgown and ready for sleep. As Meredith was about to leave, she remembered something else she’d brought Claire. “I almost forgot. I have a present for you.”
Meredith went to the food cart and removed a large package, wrapped in pink paper with a brighter pink bow, from the bottom shelf. The colorful box was a stark contrast to the bland room. When she turned back toward Claire, she
saw a spark in Claire’s eyes she hadn’t seen in years.
“Do you want to open it now?” Meredith asked as she set the box next to Claire on the bed.
Claire nodded and whispered, “Yes.” Yet, instead of moving, Claire stared at the box.
“Is there a problem?”
“The paper… It’s so pretty.”
Meredith eased the bow off and carefully ran her finger under the tape. With the paper loosely covering the gift, she left it beside Claire on the bed. Apprehensively, Claire removed the paper and took off the lid. Pushing the tissue paper aside, she revealed three bright pink throw pillows. Two were circular and one was a square with ruffles. Hugging one of the pillows close to her chest, Claire smiled and asked, “Can they stay here? … It would be great to have color.”
“Yes, and I’ll bring more color! We’ll get this room to reflect how much better you’re doing!”
“Oh, I’d like that.” Closing her eyes, Claire added, “I wish…”
Meredith waited for Claire’s voice to regain strength. When it didn’t, she asked, “What do you wish?”
“You’ve done too much… I can’t… ask for more.”
Meredith lifted Claire’s chin until their eyes met. “You saved me from jail today. What do you wish?”
“For the gray… to go away.”
“It will. Each day, we’ll make everything more colorful.”
Claire shook her head. “No… The gray in my hair… I’m not that old… What will Nichol think?”
Meredith smiled. “Oh, honey, I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’ll bring color back to your hair. What color do you want to be?” With a grin, she added, “More pink?”
With her head settled on her pillows, a faint smile came to Claire’s lips. “No, I like brown… I like brown… a lot.” Her eyes closed.
Meredith set the box on the floor, placed the pillows next to Claire, and covered her with a blanket. Gathering Claire’s dinner dishes, she thought about Claire’s words. Yes, Meredith remembered the stories of Claire’s hair. She also knew the color of Tony’s eyes. It went without saying: Claire definitely liked brown.
Tomorrow, Meredith had a new goal: Claire’s hair would return to the beautiful, shiny chestnut color she had in college. As she turned off the light and closed Claire’s door, Meredith giggled. Her job description was ever changing. Soon she could add beautician to her résumé.
Chapter Forty-One
It’s not so important who starts the game but who finishes it.
—John Wooden
The tropical sky darkened; hues of orange and red faded to black. Tony looked out toward the now calm sea as the ball of fire which warmed their world once again found its home below the horizon. As evidence of the ravaging the sea had endured at the hands of the tropical storm, seaweed and driftwood littered the normally pristine white sand surrounding the lagoon. The shore wasn’t its only victim. Palm trees lay precariously strewn across paths, over one another, all around the island, downed by the strong winds.
Tony paced between the windows and Claire’s delivery bed. Their mattress needed to be replaced. What difference did it make if their baby was born upon it? Madeline exchanged the cool compress on Claire’s forehead for a cooler one and fed Claire ice chips. Tony watched; however, his attention was divided between his wife and the men he’d sent out to sea. Every so often, he’d look out toward the water hoping, praying, for signs of Francis and Phil. Nearly two hours earlier, he’d received a call saying they were on their way back with Dr. Gilbert. The trip usually lasted thirty to forty minutes, so they should’ve arrived over an hour ago. Occasionally, Tony’s gaze would meet Madeline’s. Though she didn’t say a word, he knew by her furrowed brow that she too was worried. He just didn’t know if it were solely because of Francis, who’d warned them hundreds of times about navigating a boat after dark, or if it was also about Claire.
Claire’s stifled cries brought Tony away from the reflective glass panes to their brightly lit suite. Every light in their room was on, along with multiple additional lamps that Tony had retrieved from around the house. Claire’s contractions were occurring closer and closer together. He knelt beside her bed, kissed her cheek, and waited for her response. One moment, she wanted him near; the next moment, she didn’t want to be touched. At one time during the evening, Madeline cornered Tony in the bathroom while he dampened more cloths for Claire’s head. “Monsieur, what Madame el is saying and feeling, it is normal. She needs you to stay strong.”
Tony nodded. He didn’t know what normal was anymore. His whole world was different than he’d ever foreseen. The addition of their child would only further propel it into an oblivion he never before knew existed, and as for strength—he could do that. It was his thing. If he could endure the pain he saw in Claire’s eyes in her stead, then he would without hesitation.
“You don’t have to be strong,” Tony encouraged. “Scream if you need to scream.” This time, she took his hand and squeezed. For a moment, he considered screaming. Never before had his petite, gentle wife exhibited so much strength. He worried the bones in his fingers may not survive; and then all at once, her grip lessened and the clouds of pain floated away revealing shiny emerald eyes as tears slipped down her cheeks.
“Where’s Dr. Gilbert?”
“He’ll be here soon.” Did he sound confident? Tony hoped he did. He tried multiple times to contact Phil by phone, but Tony knew the phones had poor reception when out to sea. The only way to make contact was the two-way radio. The transmitter and receiver were in the boathouse. Earlier, Tony mentioned going to the boathouse and trying to reach them, but Claire’s sudden look of panic stopped him in his tracks. She was determined that he needed to be with her. Didn’t she understand, he was useless, and Dr. Gilbert was the one she needed?
“Tony? Tony!?”
“I’m right here.”
Her face contorted as she made a sound he’d never heard.
“I’m right here. What can I do?” he asked.
Breathing through the pain, she spoke in but a whisper, “There’s so much pressure.”
Madeline lifted the sheet and felt between Claire’s legs. When her hand emerged, it was covered in blood. Tony felt his own blood drain from his face. Mercifully, he was on his knees. If he’d been standing, Tony feared his show of strength would fail as he’d be prone on the floor.
Madeline looked directly into his eyes. “Monsieur, we’re going to bring your bébé into this world.”
Tony nodded, at least he thought he did.
Madeline emphasized, “Now, Monsieur!”
Claire screamed as Madeline, once again, explored below the sheet.
Although Madeline’s voice was calm, her words took the air from Tony’s lungs. “I’m not feeling your bébé’s head. It’s too soft. She’s coming bottom first!”
Before he could respond, Claire’s hoarse voice pleaded, “Oh, please, please help my baby.”
Tony soothed her forehead with his hand, unsure what else to do. “Madeline, tell me what to do.”
“Let me see your hands, Monsieur.”
He did as she asked and held up his hands.
“Too large. I will help your child come. I worry about the cord. Did the doctor ever mention breech?”
Claire shook her head, tears flowing easier than words. “No, but the last ultrasound was almost two months ago.”
“She has turned, but it is all right. Many women deliver bébés this way. I worry about pulling if the cord is where it should not be.”
Claire’s breath was a ragged plea, “Please… I don’t care about me, save my baby.”
The hair on Tony’s neck stood to attention. “I care! We will save both of you!”
Before he finished declaring, Claire screamed again. The sound echoed through the house and over the island. Blood now covered Madeline’s hands and arms. Tony saw splashes on the front of her dress.
Madeline instructed, “Go to the kitchen. In the cabinet near the stove
, there is a case. It is brown. Bring it to me.”
Tony looked down into Claire’s now clouded eyes. Again, she cried out.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised as he kissed Claire’s damp head and stepped away. Rounding the end of the bed, Tony’s shoe slipped on the wooden floor. Looking down, he stopped. On the floor, seeping into the cracks between the bamboo planks, he saw a puddle of blood.
“Go, hurry!” Madeline’s command propelled his stilled feet.
Tony wasn’t well-versed on anything in a kitchen; however, he knew a stove and a cabinet. Flinging open the doors he found a brown case. When he opened the case, his heart stopped beating. The cutlery was shiny and clean with sharp looking blades. Bile rose in his throat as he imagined one of these knives being used on his wife. Tony couldn’t let Claire endure this pain without something. Quickly, he grabbed a bottle of bourbon. He’d make her drink if he had to; or perhaps it could be used to sterilize the knife. Tony didn’t know the exact reason; however, as he rushed back toward his bedroom, he held tightly to both the case and the bottle.
When he entered the brightly lit room, Claire’s eyes were closed and her chin rested against her chest. “What happened? What did you do?”
“Nothing, Monsieur, it’s her body. It knows. Her muscles must relax, and this way, she will not feel the pain. Please open the case.”
He did.
“That one, with the shorter blade.” Then she saw the bottle. “Pour the bourbon over the blade.”
He wasn’t sure how he managed to move. Everything was on high alert, yet in slow motion at the same time. The red filling their room wasn’t that of anger, it was Claire’s blood. Tony wanted it all to stop.
As he handed the knife to Madeline, their eyes met. “Monsieur, I’m doing my best to save your child.”
The Consequences Series Box Set Page 156