Chapter Nineteen
Charity checked her to do list for the next item she needed to take care of. A quick glance at the time on the computer screen had her eyebrows lifting.
The morning had shot by, filled with item after item and call after call she needed to get on top of. While that wasn’t at all unusual with wedding season in high gear, she realized for the first time that Kolby hadn’t made an appearance.
His absence was...unusual.
“Maybe it had something to do with what Colleen wanted to talk to him about yesterday,” she murmured to the empty space around her. After checking her phone texts to see if any had come in from either of them, she placed her phone back on her desk, shrugged, and went back to work.
By the end of the day, he still hadn’t shown.
Charity locked the door behind her and sent off a quick text to Colleen, informing her of a new client that had booked an appointment the following day.
Colleen’s reply had been fast.
I trust you to take care of it.
A quick left-over reheat for dinner and she sat down at her laptop and scrolled through Instagram to unearth some clues as to what tomorrow’s bride-to-be was like. After finding post after post of her and her fiancé, Charity shut down for the night, then went to bed.
The appointment went well with the couple telling Charity that they were friends with one of Colleen’s past brides, loved their wedding, and knew she was the right person to help them make their day unforgettable.
Since Kolby was again a no-show, Charity had to talk him up and show them an online pictorial he used for promotion. They left, the contract signed, and a promise to bring their mothers back the following week.
Eating the chicken sandwich she’d picked up at The Last Supper on her way home, she debated texting Kolby to inform him of their new client.
In the back of her mind she hoped he’d answer and tell her where he’d been the past two days.
Something kept her from sending a text, though, the butterflies in her stomach telling her to call Colleen instead.
“Hey,” Colleen said after one ring, making Charity think – not for the first time – the woman had the phone glued to her hand like a sixth finger. “They book with us?”
Charity told her they did, then said, “I had to show them Kolby’s portfolio because he never came in today. Yesterday either. Is something going on? With him?” she clarified.
“You don’t know? He didn’t text you?”
“Know what?”
In the background, Charity caught the subtle pinging of a microwave, then utensils clanging together.
“Sorry,” Colleen said, her voice muffled for a moment. Then, more clearly, “Slade’s just getting me something to eat. So Kolby didn’t tell you about his mother?”
“That she’s in the hospital? Yeah. I knew that. It’s why we came back from Aruba early, remember?”
“No, not about that. He’s in Concord because she tried to...well, hurt herself.”
Charity’s grip on her phone loosened, and it almost fell onto her plate. “What? When?”
“Sunday afternoon. I don’t know all the details, and it didn’t necessitate she go back to the hospital so it can’t be too bad, but his mom’s doc called and told him about it and that he felt it might be a good idea if Kolby came and stayed with her while she’s in the psychiatric wing.
Not stay, stay, but be there during the day.
Apparently, the meds she’s on aren’t working and she’s wicked depressed.
I told him to go and be with her and he promised me no matter what, he’ll be back for Saturday’s wedding.
So don’t worry. Kolby’s nothing if not dependable. ”
In all the thoughts she’d had about him the past two days concerning why he hadn’t come into the office, something like this wasn’t even a blip on her mental screen.
“You there?” Colleen asked.
“Yes. Yes, sorry. This is...I just...I didn’t know this happened.”
If it were possible, Charity felt the breath Colleen expelled through the cell phone waft over her. “It’s been a tough road for him over the years with her.”
Charity agreed and she didn’t know the half of what he’d been through.
“Is..is there anything I can...do? To help...or anything?” she asked.
“Just be his friend, Charity, and cut him some slack. I know the two of you don’t see eye to eye on much, but he could use a friend. A real one.”
The memory of him calling her the best friend he’d ever had slipped back into her mind.
Right at this moment she didn’t consider herself anywhere near to being a best friend. Or any kind of friend for that matter.
Nodding, she said, “Okay.”
Colleen turned the conversation to the new couple Charity had signed and then rang off ten minutes later.
Charity considered texting or calling Kolby but decided against it for two reasons. One, he was probably with his mother and she didn’t want to disturb them. But two was the more pressing one. CarlieRae’s voice danced in her head with a familiar proclamation.
Actions speak louder than a barnyard a’ bleating goats an’ mooing mama cows, Baby-girl.
Truer words, Charity thought.
***
She parked her car in the hospital’s visitor lot, clicked the lock button on her keyring and ran through the sudden August microburst under an umbrella that did nothing to protect her from the pummeling summer rainstorm.
After a sleepless night, weighing the decision she’d made heavily over and over, Charity woke, warded off the headache starting to pound with a healthy dose of caffeine and three Ibuprofen, and then, after packing an overnight bag, headed out.
Once through the hospital’s entrance doors she shook the water from the umbrella and herself and stopped at the visitor desk.
Colleen had mentioned that Vera's incident hadn’t warranted a transfer out of the psychiatric wing, but she wanted to be sure.
After giving Kolby’s mom’s name to the receptionist, and fibbing that yes, she was family, she was given a visitor pass.
Alighting from the elevator, she knew she could go no further because the doors to the unit were passcode protected.
“You family?” the watchguard at the desk abutting the door asked after she told him who she was there to visit.
“N-no. I’m, well, I’m a friend of her son. He’s probably in there with her right now.”
“I’m sorry. Only family allowed.”
She nodded, but wasn’t defeated. She’d come this far to support him and wasn’t about to head out without him knowing she was there.
“Is it possible to get a message to him?”
The guard raked his eyes up and down her body, no doubt thinking she looked like a drowned rat from the rain. With what she hoped was pity in his eyes, he said, “Wait here,” then pressed a few buttons and went through the door.
It slammed shut behind him so quick she didn’t even have a chance to view what was on the other side.
About two minutes later he returned with a fifty-ish woman with a severe grey bun, no makeup on her face, garbed in white scrubs and with crocs on her feet.
She gave Charity the same reflective eye over the guard had.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, please.” Charity held up a piece of folded paper on which she’d written, I’m here if you need anything. “I need to get a message to Vera O’Brian’s son. Could you give this to him, please?”
The woman glanced down at the paper and shook her head. “I can’t confirm we have a patient by that name admitted here.”
“HIPAA laws, I know.“ Charity nodded. “I’m not asking for any info on her. I just want her son to know I’m here.” When the woman kept her hands at her sides, Charity added, “Please, ma’am. Please.”
Maybe it was the southern that slipped out of her voice that swayed her, but the woman’s expression softened and she reached for the note.
“This isn’t a confirmation the patient is here.”
“Got it,” Charity replied, nodding with such vigor that raindrops cascaded down from her dress. “Thank you.”
Once she was through the doors again, the guard pointed behind Charity and said, “There’s a waiting room over there. Coffee pot and some snacks.”
She thanked him.
Charity was nothing if not a planning-ahead-machine. She’d imagined she’d need to wait before seeing Kolby, so she’d packed her laptop, her three daily calendars, and took them from her bag, setting up shop at an empty round table. She’d just opened a search engine when her name was spoken.
Kolby stood at the entrance to the room, a look of bewilderment on his face, her note clasped in his hand.
“Are you really here?” he asked, his voice raw. “Or am I so tired I’m hallucinating?”
She stood and crossed to him, saying, “I’m here.” When she reached him she stopped, all the nerves she’d been carrying regarding her impromptu appearance and how’d he react to it shoving to the front of her brain.
Had she done the right thing in coming? In just showing up with no warning?
Would he be mad about what happened in Colleen’s office and simply send her on her way? Tell her to leave and get out of his life?
Shaking, she stared up at his face, taking in the hollows in his cheeks – sunken more than they’d been last week, the sagging skin around his eyes telling her that sleep had eluded him.
He was pale, thinner, and looked like he needed a week’s worth of sleep in the next ten seconds to even continue standing upright.
Once again, he hadn’t been taking care of himself, the weight and burden of his mother’s illness taking its toll on his health and looks. Every ounce of caregiver in her jumped to attention.
She wanted to feed him until he begged her to stop. She wanted to make him sleep and if he wouldn’t then she’d plop herself right down next to him until he did. She wanted to hold him, caress his shoulders and soothe away the worry cascading off his body like the rain had from hers.