8. Diadema
Sitting beside her husband in the sterile hospital room, Diadema Van Holland reflected on her life and the impulsive choices she had made: some out of rebellion, some out of necessity, and some out of love.
Her son interrupted her reverie. “Mom? Can I get you something from the cafeteria?” Hamilton, born from her second marriage.
His father lay prone in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines that beeped, squeezed, and monitored, making noises constantly.
It was a wonder Burnside could sleep through it all.
“No, baby, I don’t think I could even swallow water right now,” she told Hamilton with a sigh.
“Have you spoken with your sister today? I told her last night that she and Josh shouldn’t come home, so please, if you hear from her, reiterate that?
” Her oldest child, Euphemie, was in New York City with her boyfriend, Josh, who was not only one of the finest young men she had ever met, but a perfect match for her strong-willed daughter.
Josh’s resemblance to his father, Henry, in both looks and conduct, had taken her by surprise when she ran into him last summer.
Seeing Josh with Euphemie highlighted how differently her own life could have gone had she chosen another path as a young woman.
“Okay, don’t worry, I’ll let her know.” Hamilton squeezed her shoulders.
“Mom, are you sure you don’t want anything?
You said yourself that this was good news about Dad.
” Taking one of his hands, she placed it on her cheek.
Her golden boy, as Euphemie always called him, but he’d been her second chance at being a mom and getting it right, the way she never had with her daughter, always too concerned she was failing her.
Ten years younger than his sister, Diadema reckoned she and Burnside had been too lenient with Hamilton, who had taken longer to find his way, unlike capable, self-sufficient Euphemie.
Although she supposed there had been that nasty business with her daughter’s first husband, a man who couldn’t control his nether regions.
None of that to worry about now. Josh, as Euphemie’s partner, would never stray.
As for Hamilton, he had found his calling and was on his way to becoming a social worker after enrolling in Beverley Community College last fall.
She’d silenced her phone before coming into the hospital room, and it buzzed in her purse so loudly she worried the sound would wake her husband.
Grabbing her bag, she stepped out into the hall.
Pressing her forehead to the cool, sage-colored wall, tenuously holding back the emotions of the past day, she answered her best friend’s call.
“Nora.” The one person who had shown up for her, no questions asked, for longer than she deserved.
Aware that she rarely deserved her unwavering devotion, Diadema was nonetheless grateful for it.
“DD, how’s Burnside?” Nora’s question broke her.
Unable to imagine life without him, she cried, “Nora, I can’t lose him.
Not again. Not after Nathaniel.” Burnside had loved her, rescued her, when she had been at her lowest, after losing the man she considered the love of her life.
Nathaniel LeBeau had been gone for so long now that she could almost convince herself that loving him had been a dream, if not for their daughter.
They were both students when they met at Black Hills State University thirty-eight years ago.
Attending that college had been one of her rebellions after her parents pushed her to attend South Dakota State University, where she would be closer to home, thus remaining under their ever-watchful eye.
Despite her parents considering it a pedestrian career, Diadema wanted to be a teacher, and BHSU was renowned for its teaching program.
From their first meeting, Nathaniel had seen through her bluster and vanity, helping her realize she could be free of the restraints of her overbearing and toxic parents, who only focused on what she couldn’t be and what she shouldn’t do.
Their romance had burned hot, inflaming them both, and the couple married while still in college, much to the consternation of both sets of parents.
A member of the Lakota tribe, Nathaniel had grown up on the Grass Valley Reservation, and wary of the fallout, his parents had tried to dissuade him from marrying a white woman from a wealthy family.
For their part, Diadema’s parents had lived up to the racist stereotype that Nathaniel’s family had feared.
“No, DD, don’t think like that. Burnie has a medical condition.
He isn’t Nathaniel.” No, he wasn’t, because a car accident had taken her precious husband from them when Euphemie was just five, sending Diadema into a tailspin of insurmountable grief.
Compounding everything had been her ill-advised decision to take their daughter and move from Grass Valley, where they had been thriving, to Clover Lake, placing them back under the controlling thumbs of her parents.
Immersed in her own pain, Diadema failed to comprehend how her parents had been treating Euphemie, who, according to their ideologies, had a little too much Native blood surging through her veins.
Once their daughter and granddaughter lived with them, leaning on them emotionally, and more importantly, financially, her parents had no reason to keep their prejudices at bay.
“He saved me, Nora. After Nathaniel, I wanted to die.” Not even her daughter, who resembled her father too much in looks and temperament, brought her comfort, only served as a constant reminder of all that she had lost.
“I was so worried about you, especially after your parents sent you to live with your aunt in Ohio. You were all alone, and I missed you so much.” Unable to escape her anguish, hoping that a change of scene would help her heal more quickly, Diadema had welcomed the plan set up by her parents.
“And then I met Burnside.” After a year in Ohio, her aunt introduced her to a man from her church.
Older than Diadema by about fifteen years, he was wealthy, white, and a widower, having lost his own wife the year before as well, and possessed every requirement needed in a second husband, according to her parents.
“We healed each other. I love him as much as I loved Nathaniel,” she sobbed.
“Our romance may not have been as explosive, but I didn’t need that a second time.
He’s steady and responsible.” She blew her nose, confessing something she found difficult to put into words, “Sometimes I wonder if I deserve him, Nora. I’m so selfish. Judgmental.”
“Stop,” Nora’s tone was firm. “You can be, yes, but you never give yourself enough credit for your better qualities. I wouldn’t have been friends with you for fifty years if you weren’t worth it. You’re my bold, beautiful, larger than life best friend. I love you.”
She sniffed. “I love you, too.”
“Do you want me to come home? George has our bags ready to roll out of here. Just say the word.” Nora and George had gone to Lake Tahoe for the holidays, where the Livingston family had a cabin, and she appreciated her friend’s offer, particularly because her best friend’s husband barely tolerated her.
But who could blame him after the way she’d treated his brother?
It was second nature for her to see how far she could push Nora, but part of Diadema felt she was owed something.
After all, fate had smiled upon Nora, granting her a lifetime with her first love, and for that, she’d always been slightly jealous.
“No, no, I have Hamilton here. Oh, the nurse is coming. I’ll talk to you later.”
Vowing to do whatever the doctors advised for Burnside’s health, even if that meant no more cigars or alcohol, she trailed the nurse into his room.
Her husband’s fondness for port allowed her to indulge in a vodka martini (or two or three) every night, a habit that was getting increasingly out of control.
Carrying more bags to hook up to Burnside’s IV stand, the nurse introduced herself. “Hi, I’m Anna, and I’m sorry, Mrs. Van Holland, but would you mind waiting a few more minutes? I’m just going to do a bit of housekeeping in here. Get your husband cleaned up a bit and change his gown.”
“Of course.” She noticed the nurse’s eyes trailing Hamilton as he swaggered from the room.
An attractive young man, her son possessed a glow that caught the attention of all kinds of women.
Yet, he was choosing to have a relationship with an older woman who lived on the East Coast. The two had met at the party Josh had thrown for Effie at the end of the summer.
This new girlfriend, or whatever phrase they were using, was the sister of Ruth Mills’ husband, and so far her only redeeming quality was having a pediatrician for a brother.
In the hall, Hamilton flashed his phone.
“Texted Effie. She’s worried about you, Mom.
” Part of her wished Josh and Euphemie were here, of course, since Josh, a surgeon, could communicate more coherently with Burnside’s medical team.
Even though they were in New York City, he’d been a blessing, explaining everything over FaceTime.
“Thank you, baby, but I’ll be fine. I’m just so worried about your dad.” Her son enfolded her in a hug, his tall frame bending to do so.
The nurse came out of the room. “Okay, all done. He just got another sedative to make sure he will be fully rested. We always suggest the family rest when the patient does. Let me know if you need anything.” A smile from Hamilton had the nurse blushing as she pushed her cart down the hall.
Powerless, Diadema sighed. “Maybe I will step out for a bit. Go across the street to the diner. Can you stick around in case your dad wakes up, or the doctor comes?”