Chapter 5
Present Day
Bethany was upstairs in her office, listening to her children down the hall as they played games and traded snacks. It was a Monday afternoon in July and horrifically humid—the sort of weather everyone hid themselves away from.
Her youngest, Phoebe, squealed, “That’s against the rules!”
Maddie giggled and said, “Prove it.”
But there was an air of goodwill between them. Ever since their toddler years, Maddie, Tommy, and Phoebe had been good friends. And now that Maddie and Tommy were thirteen and officially “teenagers,” Phoebe scampered after them, eager to keep up.
Bethany was prepping for this evening’s surgery. Like Phoebe, the patient was ten years old and obsessed with horses and Disney. Although she was tremendously pale due to her sick liver, the patient’s eyes were bright and happy, always dancing as Bethany asked her how she was feeling and explained in layman’s terms what was going on with her body. The patient’s mother was a shadow of her former self, practically falling apart every time Bethany spoke to her about the upcoming surgery. Bethany understood. She’d watched her parents fall apart years ago with Joel. And she wouldn’t have been half as strong as they were if something had ever happened to Maddie, Tommy, or Phoebe.
Bethany rubbed her temples and turned her cell phone back on, which she had on Airplane Mode so she could focus. A split second later, a text from Rebecca buzzed in.
REBECCA: Hey, sis! How is your week? Missing you here.
Rebecca shared a photograph of herself and Esme at the Sutton Book Club. They stood before a massive pile of dishes with their thumbs up. Clearly, the new restaurant was already a success. Bethany smiled to herself.
BETHANY: Wow! Look at those dishes. I don’t envy you.
REBECCA: We’ll save them for when you get back. Which is soon, I hope?
Bethany’s chest felt heavy with regret. She longed to pack up her car and drive her children to Nantucket. She longed to drive out of the thick humidity and breathe the fresh Atlantic air.
Phoebe scampered down the hall, calling back to Maddie and Tommy. “That’s one juice box, three fruit snacks, and three granola bars?”
“And a Coke, Pheebs!” Maddie reminded her.
“A Gatorade for me,” Tommy said.
“Got it!” Phoebe shot down the staircase, her little feet bouncing on the carpet.
Bethany stood, stretching her arms over her head so her spine cracked and popped. Maybe she could join her children for an hour or two, eat snacks, and laugh. Maybe then, she could find the strength to keep going.
Just then, downstairs, Phoebe let out a blood-curdling scream.
Bethany’s hair stood on end. Panicked, she ran toward the staircase as Phoebe erupted in tears. She was saying something Bethany couldn’t understand, and Bethany was overwhelmed with possibilities. Maybe Phoebe had fallen down the stairs? Perhaps she’d encountered an intruder?
As a mother, you were perpetually plagued with fears. Every day brought so many fresh terrors, thoughts of the horrible things that could happen to your children. Bethany was especially at risk of this, as she saw so many very sick children in her line of work.
But when Bethany reached downstairs, her fear tripled at the scene before her.
Phoebe was on the floor, sobbing, her face red as a beet. Beside her was, impossibly, Nick—his face nearly purple, his eyes bloodshot. In his hand was a bottle of whiskey. Beside him was a big bag of fast-food burgers and french fries. He looked bloated and stricken, glaring at Phoebe as though he’d never seen her before.
“Daddy,” Phoebe blubbered, “what’s wrong?”
Bethany had never seen Nick like this—not this bad, anyway. Nick had been scheduled for surgery that morning. It was clear something had happened.
Bethany couldn’t bring herself to think of the worst. Not yet.
“Hey, baby,” Bethany said gently to Phoebe, dropping down to her knees to take Phoebe’s hand. “Let’s go back upstairs, huh? Daddy isn’t feeling well.”
Phoebe’s chin quivered. Her face was stricken with panic. Because she was still small for her age, Bethany could scoop her up and carry her back up the staircase, using that “motherly strength” she’d always read about. The strength that supposedly helped you lift a car or fight a bear if it meant protecting your child.
“What’s wrong?” Tommy demanded as Bethany carried Phoebe into the playroom and set her down.
“Your father is sick,” Bethany said simply. “Can you take care of your sisters for a little while?”
Maddie glared at Bethany. “I can take care of Phoebe,” she insisted.
Bethany winced, hating that she’d instinctively put her trust in the only son, the only boy. She was just as bad as Amanda.
“Thank you, Maddie,” Bethany said. “I’ll come back soon.”
Bethany shut the door behind her and steeled herself. Her hands in fists, she paraded back downstairs, reminding herself that whatever this was, whatever had happened, she and Nick were a team. They had to be.
Nick had managed to pick himself up off the floor. He was hunched over on the couch, glaring out the window. Sweat swelled into beads on his temples.
Bethany hurried to the kitchen to pour him a glass of water. The hollow look in his eyes terrified her.
It wasn’t that she’d never made a mistake during surgery. But what happened after the mistake was what mattered. Every time she made an error, she’d stayed at the hospital for hours and mended it. She’d ensured the family knew what had happened and their strategy for what came next.
She’d also lost patients during surgery before—not due to her error, but simply due to the nature of their injuries or illnesses. Being a doctor meant steeling yourself against those sorts of problems. It meant trying your best every step of the way.
But over the years, Nick had made several errors. And he wasn’t very good at figuring out what to do next.
Bethany struggled not disliking this about him. They were surgeons for crying out loud. They were doctors. They needed to put their patients first and fight for them.
They couldn’t fall apart the way Nick so often did. They couldn’t reach for a bottle of whiskey and expect everything to turn out okay.
Bethany demanded that Nick drink the entire glass of water. He did, without speaking, his eyes closed tightly. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and carelessly threw the glass on the floor. During these moments, it was hard to remember that Bethany had ever been head over heels for him.
Bethany touched his shoulder gently. “Nick. What happened?”
Nick flinched and raised his chin to glare at her. He looked at her as though she were an alien. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”
Bethany stiffened. She wanted to tell him to keep his voice down. They’d promised to stop fighting in front of the children. But this didn’t seem to be the time.
“Little Miss Perfect Doctor,” Nick mocked. “Little Miss Morals.”
Bethany sniffed and removed her hand from his shoulder. “Why don’t you go upstairs and sleep?” she said.
“You think sleep can fix something like this?” Nick asked, slurring his words.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” Bethany said. “But I have surgery in a few hours, and I need to go back to the hospital to prep. I can’t leave you here like this. Not with our kids upstairs.”
Nick’s face echoed resentment. Bethany wondered when he’d started to hate her. Maybe he always had. Perhaps it had started as far back as medical school.
She’d never figured out why he’d asked her out. It remained a mystery, even with their children upstairs. Even with their house around them, filled to the brim with photographs and memories.
Life often felt like a collection of random events that didn’t add up to anything.
After Nick threw a few more insults her way, Bethany gave up. She hurried back to her office and dialed Amanda, who answered on the second ring.
“Amanda, hey,” Bethany said, her voice wavering, “I need your help. Could you watch the kids this afternoon? Maybe into the evening, as well?”
“You’ve got yourself a problem, Miss Bethany,” Amanda said as though she’d already prepared a monologue.
Whatever had happened at the hospital had already reached Amanda and Bob’s ears. Bethany was in the dark.
“You know, my Nick has always had a target on his back. Because of his father, people have always watched every move he makes. He can’t get away from it! And he puts such pressure on himself,” Amanda said. “He needs you now, more than ever, Bethany. He doesn’t need some wife who runs out on him during his time of need.”
Bethany rolled her eyes into the back of her head. She wanted to tell Amanda about the ten-year-old girl she planned to operate on that night. The girl who needed her far more than Nick did right now. The girl who hadn’t lived long enough yet to show cruelty or anger or selfishness.
“What happened, Amanda?” Bethany asked instead, her voice like a string. “He won’t tell me.”
“If only he felt he could talk to you,” Amanda said. “If only he felt safe in his own home!”
Bethany hung up the phone and stood in stunned silence. Her heart thudded, and she forced herself down the hall to find Maddie, Tommy, and Phoebe all seated on the floor. They looked so sad. Bethany tried to brighten her face and smile. But they could see right through her.
“Let’s get packed up,” she said. “You’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s house today!”
Bethany’s three children filled their backpacks with books and games, followed her downstairs, past their father, whose bottle of whiskey was wide open, the cap thrown to the floor. He didn’t even look at them. It was as though they were ghosts.
During the ten-minute drive to the Waterstone mansion, Bethany, Maddie, Tommy, and Phoebe were quiet. When Bethany pulled into the driveway, Amanda stepped onto the front porch and crossed her arms over her chest. Still, Bethany knew Amanda wouldn’t turn her grandchildren away. They were Waterstones. They needed her.
More than that, Tommy was the spitting image of Nick at his age. Amanda practically gushed when he was around. She couldn’t help it.
Bethany followed her children, watching as they hugged their grandmother. Phoebe hung back and took Bethany’s hand as though she sensed that Bethany needed protection from Amanda. This wasn’t the first time Phoebe had shown such empathy. Bethany had once mentioned to Nick that she thought Phoebe’s emotional intelligence was “off the charts.” Nick hadn’t seemed to care.
Amanda wore a steely smile.
“The surgery is about four hours long,” Bethany explained. “I should be done by ten thirty or eleven and over here by eleven thirty.”
“They can spend the night,” Amanda said. “They know this is as much their home as it is mine.”
Bethany sighed. “Thank you, Amanda. I don’t know what I would do without your help tonight.”
With Phoebe still clinging to her hand, Bethany couldn’t ask what had gone wrong at the hospital. She would learn soon, she knew. And it change everything.