Chapter Nineteen #2
Kolby’s gaze dragged across her face while she held her breath.
The air around her split in two when he then hauled her into his arms and cradled her against his chest. The vital beat of his heart against her ear, the deep, sonorous sound of the breath he exhaled above her, even the way his arms locked around her, keeping her close, filled her with relief.
“Charity,” he whispered. “I can’t believe you’re here. That you came. I never imagined you would.”
“Colleen told me about your mama.” She pulled back, dragged her eyes across his face. “I couldn’t not come, Kolby. I couldn’t think about you going through this alone.”
With a gentle stroke, his hands slid up and down her arms as his eyes swam with emotion. Shaking his head, he closed them, tried speaking, his head bobbing again when the words didn’t cooperate.
Charity moved on pure instinct and wound her arms around his waist. With a firm hug she asked, “What can I do?”
“This,” he said after a moment. “Just this.”
The man needed a hug more than anyone else she’d ever known, that was the plain truth, so she stood there, mindless of anything else, and just held him.
“What happened?” she asked when he finally released her and pulled her with him to one of the waiting room couches.
He dragged his hands through the sides of his hair and cupped the back of his neck.
“What did Colleen tell you?”
“She tried to hurt herself.”
After taking a breath he said, “Apparently, Saturday night she had an acting out episode. She lashed out at the staff, kicked the doctor, one of the nurses. They sedated her. The next morning she apologized when she woke up. They brought in her breakfast, left her and she used the fork that came with the tray to try and pierce her wrists.”
“Oh, Kolby.” She slid her hand into his, dismayed to find it as frigid as an icicle.
“It was a feeble attempt, which she had to know. The fork was the flimsiest kind of plastic, not sharp at all. She basically cut a scratch into the skin before the nurse came in, clocked what she was doing, and then they called me, asked me what I wanted to do.”
“What did they mean? Do about her wounds?”
“No.” He closed his eyes for a moment The mental as well as physical exhaustion pouring from him was profound.
“Since she hadn’t done any damage to herself, they were okay with keeping her here.
But the doctor asked if I’d like to try a new med, one that had a side effect of sedation or if I wanted to stay the present course and give her old med a chance to work again. ”
“You chose the latter.”
“Of course I did. I can’t see her being snowed all the time. That’s no life. She’d be a zombie and not able to care for herself or live on her own. She just needs to get past this prolonged episode and I think she’ll be okay.”
“Do the doctors agree?”
“For the moment they do. But now she’s on one-to-one watch because of the fork incident. Someone’s got to be with her 24/7, watching, for seven days.”
“Have you been here the entire time?” No wonder he looked so worn out.
“No. I get to go home after she gets dinner and has her evening pills. They seem to knock her out, and she sleeps through the night. But an aide is assigned to her to make sure.”
“Has she been...?” She shrugged.
“Better? Moderately. I can see parts of her old self coming through at times when she talks to me. She’s very depressed, though, especially about being here and not at home.”
“Well, maybe that’s the incentive she needs.”
“What do you mean?”
“She wants out of here and to go home, so she needs to realize the only way that’s going to happen is if she gets with the program.
Allows them to adjust her meds, and to do all the things I imagine they want to do, like counseling, therapy.
Stuff like that. It might make her see the light.
” She tilted her head. “I mean, it might work. Maybe she doesn’t realize that to get home she needs to do those things.
I had someone tell me just the other day that some people can’t see the forest for the trees. ”
His stare, piercing to begin with, had her squirming and wondering once again if she’d overstepped.
“I mean—”
“You’re amazing,” he said, his voice a caress.
“Oh, well.” Her cheeks burned.
“She needs to see the endgame,” he said, squeezing her hand. “My mother has always been about goals. Defining them, meeting them. I’d forgotten that. Thank you. Thank you for reminding me.”
“Um, glad I could help.”
Her hand remained in his, neither, apparently, in the mood to remove it.
How long they would have sat like that, Kolby’s fingers caressing the knuckles of the hand he held, would remain unknown. A female voice coming from the doorway and calling Kolby’s name pushed them apart.
“Your mother is asking for you.”
“Coming,” he said over his shoulder. He gripped both her hands now and searched her face. “Are you—?”
“I’m staying, don’t worry.” She squeezed back. “I brought everything I need with me to work. I can camp out here and wait for you.”
He slid his hand into his pocket and took something from it. “No. Here’s the key to my mom’s place. Don’t stay here. It’s more comfortable there.”
“You’re sure?”
He stood, she following. “Yeah. I’ll be a while, so it makes sense.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“I’d better get back in there,” he told her.
“Text me when you’re leaving. I’ll make us something to eat.”
“Charity, you don’t—”
“Text me when you leave here.” The firmness of her tone was akin to CarlieRae’s when she was in commando mode with the boys.
After a moment, he nodded.
“Go to your mama,” she said.
He bent down and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said before turning and following the nurse back to the unit.
***
Charity plugged the name of a chain grocery store into her GPS then drove straight there before heading to Vera’s house. After buying groceries for a few meals, she unloaded her purchases back at the house and put them away.
As she’d anticipated, the refrigerator was empty. A quick look in the trash bin told her Kolby’d been existing on fast food again since he’d arrived.
“That ends tonight,” she said.
She took her overnight bag upstairs and left it in the guest room.
The room was as she’d left it, the bed made, the curtains drawn.
A fine sheen of dust covered the surfaces and she made a mental note to dust before getting into bed that night.
She’d planned on staying in Concord even before he’d offered her the key to the house.
She was set to book a cheap hotel if need be. Thankfully, she didn’t need to.
Kolby’s room was another story from the guest room. It was obvious he’d packed in haste when he’d been called about his mother. A small duffle, empty, was in a discarded heap next to the bed. From the underwear and clothing in the small hamper, he’d run out of clothes. Today.
Without even thinking she shouldn’t she brought the basket, tossing the towels she found in his bathroom into it, down to the first floor laundry room just off the kitchen. The load in and running, she decided to get some work done.
At four o’clock she turned the oven on and while it preheated, prepared the roast she’d brought with a few fresh herbs also coating the cubed and seasoned potatoes, carrots, and green beans.
Everything went into the roasting pan she found in the pantry closet.
Once the oven was at temperature, she covered the pan and set the timer for two hours.
Even if Kolby wasn’t home by then, the roast would be fine.
She sliced the loaf of fresh French bread she’d bought, slathered it with garlic butter and wrapped it with aluminum foil, ready to put it in the oven fifteen minutes before they would sit down.
At six the roast was done, and Charity’s phone pinged.
Leaving now.
“Charity?” he called from the living room sixteen minutes later.
She pulled the garlic bread from the oven and said, “Kitchen.”
“It smells great in here.”
“My mama’s Sunday roast recipe. Go wash up and we can eat.” She slid the bread onto a breadboard and took a knife from the drawer.
He didn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, the knife poised in her hand. “You look upset.”
***
“Nothing.” It was a miracle he could get the word out without choking on it because it was as far from the truth as he could get without outright lying. “I’m not upset. Just tired.”
A half-truth but better than a full lie.
He wasn’t upset. In fact, the opposite. For the first time since Sunday’s call summoning him back to the hospital, he felt relief.
The emotional toll of his mother’s situation weighed heavy on him, like a boulder pressing down on his back, every day growing larger with him getting weaker.
The decisions that needed to be made, both medically and for the future, played like a loop in his brain.
What would happen after she was discharged?
Would she spiral again? Dealing with his mother’s moody sadness during the day, the complaints about everything from the staff to the way he looked was tiresome.
Even battling his own guilt at just wanting to run from the hospital and leave her to the caregivers had begun to pull him down.
When the head nurse handed him Charity’s note it was like a bright light had stabbed a hole in his darkness.
He’d wanted to call her from the first day, but hadn’t.
When she’d railed against him in the parking lot, and with the anger she’d tossed him in the office when he’d admitted they’d never slept together, told him he was better off staying away from her until they were forced to work together again.