Chapter Forty-Eight
Grace
After the long afternoon meeting, I finally get a little break to check emails. There. I smile when the latest update from Dr. Blum pops up.
I’m happy to report that your mother has made some amazing progress! She is showing interest every time we play the baby’s heartbeat, and when we asked her if she knew who it was, she tapped her finger once. Then when we asked her if she knows it’s your baby, she tapped her finger once, again! It’s a miracle! Then just this morning, she opened her eyes briefly.
I cover my face, stifling a gasp. She hasn’t opened her eyes in two years!
She wasn’t conscious for long, but her pupils responded to light. Everyone was thrilled, but I’m sorry to say we forgot to record the moment in our excitement. Next time.
There’s no next time about it! I’m flying to Baltimore next week for her birthday, so she won’t be alone. Last year, even though she couldn’t do anything, I held her hand and talked to her.
Will she open her eyes? Maybe listen to me and blink and tap my palm for a little communication?
Oh, wait! I should ask Huxley if he can go with me. When I wasn’t sure if our marriage would last, I was hesitant, but now… I lay a hand over my heart, nearly bursting with enthusiasm. It’s sort of last minute, so he might not be able to get away, but if he can, Mom would love to meet her son-in-law. Ooh, I can also put her hand on my belly. It’s getting more rounded now, although it looks more like a little paunch than an actual baby belly the way I imagined. Maybe the baby will move for the first time when Mom touches my stomach. Wouldn’t that be amazing?
Hope and excitement bubble in my veins. I can’t imagine a future brighter than this. Huxley asked me to think about my future really carefully, but I already know what it is. I’m just waiting to tell him over the weekend at a beautiful restaurant with candlelight and delicious food. Elizabeth says éternité is fabulous and romantic, and even I’ve heard of it. Karie always wanted to go, including the time Viv got her acceptance letter to Harvard Law, but they could never get a table due to the endless waitlist. All Elizabeth had to do was send a text, and voilà, she got me a reservation. “A cousin of mine owns it,” she said with a mischievous wink.
When I get home, Huxley is already in the kitchen. “You’re back early,” I say, going up to him for a kiss.
“Mmm-hmm.” He kisses me, but the frown on his face stays. I rub the spot gently to make him stop, but the frown only worsens.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Did something happen at your office? The new assistant not working out?” Huxley got a male assistant after firing Madison. I know he specifically hired a male assistant for me, even though I told him he should hire whoever was the best. Just because an assistant is female doesn’t mean she’ll be as awful as Madison, but he shook his head. He isn’t leaving anything to chance.
“My assistant is fine,” Huxley says.
“I’m glad, then.” I kiss his furrowed spot, then pour myself a glass of cold water. “I have fabulous news. But first, how busy are you next week?”
“Why?”
“I’m going to visit Mom. I do it every year on her birthday, and I’d love it if you could join me. I’m dying for her to meet you. Dr. Blum was so optimistic. He said she even opened her eyes!” I beam at my husband, bursting with elation and eager to celebrate this amazing milestone with him.
But instead of smiling, he gives me the strangest look. Not regret that he’s too busy to go. More like…
His eyes are downcast, his mouth flat. He clenches and unclenches his hands. A muscle in his jaw twitches erratically. Isn’t he glad Mom is improving? Isn’t he proud of the fact that he made it happen?
The smile on my face slips as the happiness glowing inside me dims. “Why are you upset? Are you…bothered by Mom’s progress?” My voice shakes.
“No!” Horror crosses his face. “Never. It’s nothing like that.”
“Then why do you look so miserable? Did something happen? Are we going bankrupt?” I try to joke, hoping he isn’t distressed about Dr. Blum’s report for some reason.
“I’ve been trying to find a good way to say this, but…” Huxley exhales roughly.
My mouth dries as icy fear pushes out the joy and twists my gut. “What is it? You’re scaring me.”
“Your mother isn’t at Johns Hopkins.” He couldn’t sound more pained.
“What?”
“That’s what my accountant said. He told me he tried to pay the invoices, but something was wrong. So he called the hospital, and they told him she’s not a patient.”
“That can’t be right. I get updates and photos every week from Dr. Blum, and he’s a real doctor there. I spoke to him the last time I went to see her.” I rack my brain for more reasons Huxley’s accountant could be mistaken. “And I’ve been sending two thousand dollars to the place every month. If Mom wasn’t there, why would they take my money?”
Confusion clouds Huxley’s expression. “You send money directly to them?”
“Yes. I use their online payment portal, and the money gets taken out. My bank statements show they’re for Johns Hopkins.”
Huxley’s eyes narrow in thought. “Text the doctor and tell him you’re visiting next week.”
I do, using the number I have for him. It doesn’t take long before I get a response.
–Dr. Blum: I don’t think that’s a good idea.
A cold knot forms in my gut. My fingers shake as I type my response.
–Me: Why not?
–Dr. Blum: Your sudden presence could have a negative effect.
Fear—sour and metallic—coats my mouth. What is he talking about? He’s the one who told me to send voice memos and so on for Mom, saying they would help. How could my being there in person be worse than her listening to recordings only?
–Me: How so?
Three dots appear and disappear on the screen. Apprehension tightens its icy hand around my neck. I breathe in carefully, feeling like I’m about to throw up. My hands turn clammy as the seconds tick by.
Finally, a response arrives.
–Dr. Blum: She’s used to auditory sensations. Her brain is learning to process olfactory now. It’s a very delicate process, and you don’t want to overload her.
–Me: But you said she opened her eyes.
–Dr. Blum: Yes. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready to see you in person. Not yet, anyway.
–Dr. Blum: Or we may risk her shutting down again. We don’t want to do that, do we?
–Me: I don’t understand. After my last visit, you said you wished I could afford to be with her more so she could get direct interaction with me and recover faster.
Nothing. Not even three dots.
No, no, no.
I call. It goes to voicemail. I try again, but he doesn’t pick up.
Terror and denial slice my heart into pieces. The air seems so thin now, and my vision dims. I hear something shatter.
“Grace!” Huxley’s warm hands wrap around my arms. “Breathe, baby. Breathe.” His eyes focus on mine as he pulls back and makes an exaggerated motion of dragging in air. Numbly, I follow suit. “Good. Now, out.” He sags his shoulders and lets the air out. I do the same. “Again. Don’t pass out on me.” He pulls me gently. “Careful. There are glass shards on the floor.”
I glance down. Somebody must’ve dropped a glass. “I don’t understand. Nelson wouldn’t have moved my mom without telling me first. Or if not me, at least Andreas, who ordered him to pay for the care.”
Huxley dips his head and looks into my eyes. “I know you’re upset, but give me twenty-four hours to look into this. The woman in the hospital billing department who my accountant talked to is young and only started working a couple of months ago. She might’ve made a mistake, or maybe doesn’t know how to look up where your mom was moved to. But they’re three hours ahead of us, so you have to give me a little time to work on this, okay?”
“I don’t believe that the billing department lady doesn’t know.”
“Well, it’s a possibility that we should check. Now, listen. You feel chilled.” Huxley runs his hands over my arms. “Why don’t I start a hot bath for you? It might make you feel better. And please—let me take care of this. I’ve already hired people to look into it as quickly as possible.”
His eyes cloud with worry—and a tinge of guilt. He’s withholding something. But what? Something worse than the possibility that Dr. Blum might’ve been lying to me all this time? That Mom isn’t doing as well as I thought? That the damn hospital might’ve misplaced her like an unoccupied bed they forgot about until now?
“What are you not telling me?” I rasp, wanting to give him a chance.
“Nothing.” His answer is too prompt. He parks me on a stool. “Don’t move until I come back. I’ll start the bath and clean up the floor, okay?”
I nod because that’s what he wants.
He disappears upstairs, to the master bath.
I grab my car fob and walk out, glass be damned.