Take Another Look

by Rosalind Noonan

  “I don’t think so.” The words were drawn out, regret as thick as molasses.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Mom isn’t feeling well. I’m sorry. I thought we would be able to make it, but . . . she says no. There’s no way she can drive right now.”

  “Oh, dear. Harper’s going to be so disappointed.” Jane stared at the pink cake, thinking how unfair it was for Isabel to miss her party. It didn’t seem right for a teenage girl to be stuck serving as a nursemaid on her birthday. “I know you don’t have an aide right now, but do you think Chrissy would be okay on her own for a few hours? Do you want to ask her? I’d be happy to swing by and pick you up.”

  “Really? I would love to come, but . . .” There was a shuffling sound. “Hold on and I’ll ask her.”

  In Jane’s mind, the plan was already forming. Jane would dash over to pick up Isabel, and as soon as she returned Luke could tag team and head out for the pizzas. That would work. She was sorry that Chrissy would miss her daughter’s fifteenth, but it was only a pizza party with a few friends. Harper had agreed to keep it low-key because Jane didn’t want to draw too much attention to the girls’ sharing the same birthday.

  “Mom says that would be okay,” Isabel said. “She’s just going to sleep now.”

  Jane was already reaching for her jacket and keys. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  When Jane came to the door, Isabel was waiting with her coat on. “Thanks for coming for me.” She was misty-eyed. “I didn’t want to disappoint Harper.”

  Jane touched Isabel’s shoulder. “Harper will be really happy to have you there.” Celebrating a birthday together—Jane had thought this day would never come.

  “Oh! I almost forgot. I made birthday brownies for Harper.”

  Jane waited in the living room while Isabel hurried to the kitchen.

  “I just need to cover them with foil,” Isabel called.

  “No worries.” Once again drawn to the family photos, Jane was holding a picture of Nick and Chrissy holding baby Isabel when she heard a thin whimper. A creaking board? It seemed to be coming from the door on the right, where a hallway led to the bedrooms. When it happened a second time, more like a raspy moan, Jane pushed open the door and found Chrissy facedown on the floor, her face in a puddle of reddish liquid.

  “Oh, my God, Chrissy!” Jane knelt beside the woman who lay eerily still. Was she breathing? Jane turned her on her side and searched her clammy neck for a pulse. “Chrissy, come on,” she coaxed. Her body was warm, but her lips had a bluish tint, and Jane could not detect any vital signs. Her chest was still—no sign of breathing.

  “Ms. Ryan?” Isabel called.

  “Isabel. Quick! Call 911.”

  One glance from the doorway, and Isabel gasped. “Mom! What happened?”

  “She’s very sick. Make the call.” Jane sensed Isabel fumbling to put the tray on the floor and grab her cell phone. No time to console the kid now.

  As the girl called for help, Jane closed her eyes to concentrate. She felt for a pulse, her own heart thumping in desperation. A few more seconds, and she would start CPR, rusty though her skills were. Suddenly, Chrissy let out a coarse gasp and a rheumy breath rattled through her chest and throat. “There you go, Chrissy.” Jane fought to maintain a soothing calm in her voice despite the alarm shrieking through her. “Keep breathing, Chrissy. Hold on.”

  Chapter 22

  “Where is her next of kin?” the nurse asked when Jane and Isabel checked in at the desk of the emergency room. They had followed the ambulance to the hospital after Isabel had been unable to persuade the attendants to let her ride with her mother. “Sorry, young lady,” the female paramedic had told her. “You have to be eighteen to ride along.”

  “I’m her next of kin,” Isabel insisted, rising on tiptoes to lean in over the counter. “How is she?”

  “They’re working on her right now. But we need the name of an adult for emergency notification.” The nurse glanced over at Jane. “Are you related?”

  “I’m not, but Chrissy has a sister in Seattle. She lives in a convent there. Do you have her contact info, Isabel?”

  “Aunt Anya.” Isabel scrolled through her cell address list and gave the woman the information. “Can I see Mom now? I want to be with her if . . .” Isabel’s blue eyes gleamed with pooling tears. “I’m all she has.”

  “I need you to wait out here right now,” the nurse said. Her voice was firm but not without sympathy. “I know it’s hard.”

  “I don’t want her to be alone.”

  “Right now she’s surrounded by doctors and nurses,” the woman assured her.

  Jane put an arm around Isabel’s shoulders and held her close. Hospital protocol could be so dehumanizing, keeping loved ones from the sick people who needed their support, but she understood that family got in the way of treatment.

  “We’ll be waiting over here,” Jane told the nurse as she led Isabel over to the vinyl sofas and chairs.

  “My poor mom.” Isabel raked back her dark hair, her hand trembling with shock. “And I was about to leave. She would have been all alone. I don’t understand why she got out of bed. Do you think she fell?”

  Clearly, the girl didn’t sense the seriousness of Chrissy’s condition. Jane suspected that Chrissy had emerged from her bed to get help when her respiratory system began to shut down, but she knew it would devastate Isabel to hear that theory. “Let’s see what the doctor says,” Jane said. “Do you want to call your aunt and let her know what’s going on?”

  “Not yet. I don’t want to upset Aunt Anya if this is a false alarm.”

  Again, denial.

  “Do you think Mom’s going to be all right?” Isabel pressed her palms to her cheeks. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to my mother. She’s all I have left.”

  Jane pulled Isabel close. “Don’t say that. You’ve got Harper and me, and your aunt in Seattle. You’ve got a family that loves you.”

  “That’s so good to know.” Isabel sniffed. “I love you, too. I’m just so worried about my mom.”

  “I know.” Jane took a deep breath, trying to ease out tension as she exhaled. “The last time I saw her, she was doing well. Was this a sudden thing, or were there warning signs?”

  “She started getting sick last week—throwing up—but she thought it was the flu. It’s going around, and we think Mom has low immunities now. But instead of getting better, she got worse.”

  “And you’ve been taking care of her on your own again. Is she still looking for another aide to hire?”

  “I guess. It’s all my fault. I should have kept quiet about mean old Candy. At least Mom liked her.”

  “Don’t blame yourself.” Jane tried to distract Isabel with offers of a drink or snacks from the machines in the hallway, but Isabel declined.

  “Did you tell Harper I’m sorry to ruin her birthday?” she asked, winding a curled lock of hair around one finger.

  “Don’t beat yourself up. She understands. In fact, she wanted Mr. Bandini to bring her here to be with you, but I reminded her that she has guests to take care of.” Jane eased away from Isabel’s embrace to dig in her bag for a pack of tissues. “You’ll see her soon enough. If they admit your mom, and it sort of looks like that’ll happen, you’ll be coming home with me.”

  Isabel sniffed and thanked her.

  When the doctor appeared from the emergency room and introduced herself, Jane was unable to read anything but concern in Jill Raffer’s fine-boned face surrounded by a cloud of voluminous dark hair. “Your mother is hanging in there, but I have to be honest with you. She’s very sick. Her face and limbs are numb. Her heartbeat is slow and erratic, indicating hypotension, and she’s suffering from dehydration. You said she had the flu? How long has this been going on?”

  Isabel answered the doctor’s questions patiently, her round eyes full of rue. “Is she going to be all right?”

  “I think we’ll get her through this spell, but I’m bringing
in a cardiologist, a neurologist, and an internist for consults, and I spoke with Christine’s physician, Dr. Malba. He said she has a history of these attacks, though none quite so severe. This is definitely not influenza.”

  “I didn’t know. Mom kept telling me she would be fine. Is she feeling better now?”

  “She’s breathing on her own, at least, though the bradycardia and hypotension have her in a semiconscious state.”

  A tear rolled down Isabel’s cheek. “Will she wake up?”

  “Not tonight. Probably not for a few days. We’re looking at twenty-four to thirty-six hours to regulate her heartbeat, and there are tests to run. I’m working my ER rotation, but my specialty is diagnostic medicine. I want to get to the bottom of this. Every mystery gives us clues; it’s up to us to catch them.”

  “None of the other doctors have been able to figure out what’s wrong with her,” Isabel said flatly.

  Dr. Raffer dropped her clipboard to her hip and squinted at Isabel. “It says here you live alone with your mother. Do you have a place to stay for a few days?”

  “She’s coming home with me,” Jane said.

  “Can I see my mom?” Isabel’s voice now had the high pitch of a young child’s voice.

  “You can. It might help in her recovery.” The doctor’s voice was warmer now, sympathetic. “Sometimes even unconscious patients sense when someone they love is near.”

  As Isabel went down the hall to see her mother, Jane stayed behind and considered their shifting plans. A cancelled birthday party. A few days of Isabel bunking in with Harper. And then there was Christmas to consider. How would this impact their holidays? She doubted that Chrissy would be able to make the trip to Seattle now, and she knew the older woman would be disappointed.

  And Isabel? It was up to Jane to make sure she was well taken care of while her mother recovered. Fate had given Jane a second chance. And after what Isabel had been through, the kid deserved some time to be a teen.

  It was late when they left the hospital. They went straight to the Ryan home, where Harper met them at the door and threw her arms around her sister.

  “You poor thing! Everyone missed you, but we’re going to make it up to you with something fun this weekend, after basketball. How’s your mom?”

  “She’s pretty sick.” Isabel’s mouth puckered, straining, holding back tears.

  “Don’t worry too much,” Jane told her. “Things always look better in the morning.”

  Isabel nodded. “I’m just so grateful to be here with my family.”

  “Let’s go find some pj’s for you to borrow,” Harper said. “And clothes for school tomorrow. Right?” Tomorrow would be Thursday; only two school days left until the holiday break. “Oh my God, you’re going to look just like me. That’ll be hysterical.” The girls bounded up the stairs.

  Exhausted, Jane looked over the straightened living room, the clean kitchen counters, the man who seemed at home with his laptop on the leather sofa, the dog at his feet.

  “You cleaned up,” Jane said.

  “Well, I didn’t want you to see me crying on the cold pizza.”

  “Missed me that much?” she teased.

  “It was a unique experience. I’ve never partied with three teenage girls before.” He rubbed one eye under his glasses. “There were lots of sighs and sorrows for Isabel, but that didn’t seem to affect our appetites. Still, I saved a few slices for you and Isabel. Shall I heat them up?”

  “That sounds divine.” She fell back on the sofa and stroked the dog while they discussed the evening’s events.

  None of the parents had seemed surprised to see Luke there when they picked up their girls. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag,” he said.

  “Probably a good thing.” She relayed the details of Chrissy’s condition. “I liked the ER doc. She didn’t pull any punches. They can’t seem to find what’s causing the problems.”

  “It’s confounding in this day and age, with all the medical technology, that they still can’t diagnose something like that.”

  She sat up as he handed her a plate of steaming pizza. “I don’t think Isabel had any idea how seriously sick Chrissy was.” What a huge responsibility for a young girl. Luke pointed out that sometimes life’s difficulties built character in a person. That would account for Isabel’s strong moral code. As Jane finished her pizza, she wondered if she had coddled Harper too much, allowing her to be spoiled and temperamental. Maybe. Isabel was raising the bar for Jane and Harper, bringing integrity into their home. There was much to learn from this noble girl.

  After school the next day, Jane drove Isabel to the house on Arbor Lane. Isabel needed to pack up some clothes and personal items for herself and Chrissy, who had gained enough consciousness at the hospital to ask for her daughter. As they penetrated the eerie stillness of the house, Jane was sorry that Harper was at basketball practice. Her bright energy would have brought some life and animation into the neat, dreary house.

  While Isabel assembled the things she would need, Jane worked on a bag for Chrissy. It felt odd to pull out someone else’s drawers and examine the items on the bathroom counter. Toothbrush and whitening gel. Face cream and tweezers. Trying to imagine that she was packing for herself, she pulled together a cosmetic bag and some clothes. She worked quickly, as if that would help her escape the feeling of intrusion.

  She zipped up the hard-shell suitcase and rolled it out to the living room, where the family photos reminded her that she was invading someone else’s life. The early photos of Nick and Chrissy sparkled with joy and hope and love. But now, on closer inspection, she saw the toll of impending tragedy in the more recent photos: the strain on Nick’s face, the disappointment in Chrissy’s eyes. Had they been feeling the strain of his illness? Chrissy had said that his death had been sudden, that they had no idea his condition was fatal. Had they been suffering other crises, problems deeper than those most middle-aged parents encountered?

  Moving away from the staid photos and stale air, Jane passed through the kitchen to get some air in the backyard and paused when she noticed the sunroom in the back of the house. Set up as a greenhouse, it smelled of rich earth and fertilizer. Beyond the wall of glass, a cold rain dripped from the pearl-gray sky, but it was warm and stifling in here among the rows of herbs, white and purple flowers, and plants. The floor had been swept clean, and small clay pots sat stacked on an aged wood table. It was an odd oasis of life in the airless house.

  She was still standing in the doorway when she heard Isabel behind her. “That’s Mom’s growing room.” Alarm laced through Isabel’s voice. “She doesn’t like anyone to go in there.”

  “I’m just looking,” Jane said. “I didn’t know that Chrissy is a gardener. And how does she keep things so green when she’s not around?”

  “There’s a small irrigation system.” Isabel stepped around Jane to peer over the herbs. “You didn’t touch anything, did you? Mom is very particular about her garden. If you moved something, even an inch—”

  “I was just looking. I barely stepped through the doorway.”

  “Oh. Okay then.” Isabel ushered Jane back to the kitchen and closed the door behind them. “That’s good. We can’t have anything out of place.”

  Jane had not known that Chrissy was so controlling, but now she was beginning to wonder at the demands she had made on Isabel’s time. Cooking, cleaning, and serving as a nurse for her mother. Just because Isabel had not complained did not mean that the duties were not severe. “Would you say Chrissy is a strict mother?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you ever feel like your mom was pushing you too hard with chores and responsibilities? You can be honest with me.”

  Isabel’s lower lip trembled. “She said she was teaching me to be a good mother, the way her mother taught her. Cooking and cleaning, sewing and gardening . . .” Isabel lifted her arm to wipe away a tear that snaked down her cheek.

  Jane held her breath, surprised and relieved that the floodgat
es were opening.

  “It’s a lot of work, but . . .” The girl’s voice broke on a sob. “But I’m a hard worker.”

  “Sweet girl.” She enveloped Isabel in her arms and stroked her hair. Isabel was due for a rest—they all were. Tomorrow, when Jane met with the social worker at the hospital, she was going to suggest that Isabel stay with Harper and her through the holidays. Chrissy’s illness could be an intervention of sorts, a time for Jane to advocate for Isabel and assess her needs. Besides, a little distance would probably help Chrissy and her daughter put things in perspective. This interlude might be a blessing in disguise.

  That night at dinner, Isabel spoke of her mother with measured enthusiasm. They had dropped by the hospital, and Isabel had spent a good half hour by her mother’s side.

  “Mom said that it makes her feel much better knowing I’m being taken care of,” Isabel reported as she served herself a helping of broccoli.

  “Did she tell you that?” Jane asked. The nurse had told Jane that Chrissy was only capable of one-word answers, but perhaps the woman was more responsive to her daughter. “See that? Even sick, your mom is thinking of you.”

  “Is she getting better?” Harper asked.

  “Oh, yes. She’s hoping to come home in a few days.”

  Again, not what Jane had heard, but she would let Isabel live in denial for now if that got her through the day.

  “That’s awful, to be all alone in the hospital.” Harper gave a shudder as she put her milk down. “Hospitals are terrible places. People die there.”

  “Harper . . .” Jane gave her daughter a stern look. This was no time to get morbid.

  “Just saying. I don’t ever want to go there.”

  “But you’re coming with me tomorrow to visit my mom, right?” Isabel looked from Jane to Harper. “She’ll be happy to have visitors.”

  Harper’s pleading eyes beseeched Jane to say no, but Jane simply nodded. “We’ll go with you after school.”

  “But tomorrow is the last day of school,” Harper whined. “I was going to the mall with my friends. You can come, too,” she told Isabel.