All That Lies Within (11 page)

“Good.” Dara hesitated. “Is there anything more she needs right now? I mean…”

“No. I’m done here. I imagine you want some time alone with her.” The nurse headed for the door. “If you need anything, I’ll be around.”

“Thank you.” When the nurse was gone, Dara dragged a chair to the side of the bed and sat down. Now that they were alone, she had no idea what to do.

For a while, she simply sat and watched her mother breathe. The frail chest rose and fell faintly, and the pulse point in her neck seemed to stutter periodically. After a time, the machine noises faded into a steady hum in the background.

“Mother.” Dara reached out and touched her mother’s hand. “I don’t really know what to say. I’m not sure you can hear me. And even if you can, I’m not sure what you…” Dara paused as an unexpected wave of long-buried emotions threatened to swamp her. Her lips trembled.

“Why couldn’t you have loved me, Mother? Was I so unlovable? Really? I tried. I tried to be a good girl. I tried to stay out of your way and to be an easy child. I tried to… Damn.” Dara fumbled in her pocketbook for a packet of Kleenex. She blew her nose, deposited the tissue in the waste basket by the side of the bed, and prayed for composure she wasn’t sure she could find. She took a deep, settling breath. It wouldn’t do to stay stuck in the past. She should focus on the things her mother said about her career and stick to the present.

“Thank you, Mother, for letting me know that I haven’t turned out to be the disappointment I’m sure you thought I’d be.” Dara slid her hand underneath her mother’s so that their palms were touching. “I’m glad you saw my movies. I’m glad you liked them. Kate Hepburn, eh? High praise, indeed. Thank you, for giving me something positive to hold onto.

“I don’t know what my next project is just yet, but I know what I’m hoping for. If you liked my other work, I know you’d really love me in this role, if I can get it. It’s an adaptation of the Pulitzer Prize-winning Constance Darrow novel,
On the Wings of Angels
. I think I could really connect with the material and do it justice.”

Dara smirked. “I don’t suppose you’ve read the book, Mother, have you? I hear it was pretty good, but that the author is a complete mystery.” She studied her mother’s face, but there was no change in her expression. Had she read the book? And if she had, would she have made the connection between Dara and Constance? Dara didn’t think so. After all, they’d been estranged for so long that the last written work her mother had seen was most likely a high school term paper. She probably wouldn’t have been able to recognize her style.

Would her mother have been proud of her career as an author? Dara felt an unexpected twinge of sadness as the realization dawned that her mother would never get to see anything more of her work or to know about her alter ego, Constance. How ironic. Until last night, she hadn’t even known, or thought she cared, that her mother had seen her movies. Now… Now she deeply regretted that her mother would likely miss her best work as her career continued to take off. Why on Earth should that matter to her? After all this time?

The sound of someone clearing his throat startled Dara, and she jumped.

“I’m sorry. I apologize for interrupting.” Doctor Emanuel walked around the bed and checked the IV connections without looking at Dara.

“No, it’s okay. I…I was just keeping her company.”

A second man entered the room and stood off to the side.

Doctor Emanuel cleared his throat again, and Dara realized that he seemed profoundly uncomfortable. Although she had only met him the day before, he didn’t strike her as the nervous type.

“I want you to know…” He continued to fiddle with the IV line. “I want you to know how deeply angered I am personally.”

“I’m sorry,” Dara withdrew her hand from her mother’s. “What are you talking about?”

Doctor Emanuel looked at the other man, and then at Dara for the first time since he’d come into the room. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“About the photos and the article.”

Dara’s heart sank. “What photos? What article?” For the first time, she noticed that the other man held a newspaper folded under his arm.

“This is Gerry Nuland. He is the Vice President of our hospital’s Quality Assurance Committee.”

The man stepped forward and handed the newspaper to Dara without comment.

The first thing Dara saw was the shot of her at the airport yesterday and the big, banner headline. Her heart flipped. She opened the paper to the next page and felt the bile rise in her throat as she spied the shot of her mother in the hospital bed. She dropped the paper on the floor. “Who?” Her voice shook. “Who took this?”

The doctor started to answer, but the other man interrupted him.

“We deeply, deeply regret this incident, but we are not at liberty to discuss confidential personnel matters. This hospital does not tolerate such breaches. Rest assured that this matter has been investigated and dealt with swiftly and decisively.”

Dara felt sick. She knew she shouldn’t do it, but she picked up the newspaper again and read the brief article. With each word, despair at the indignity to her mother threatened to bring Dara to her knees. She was used to the loss of privacy for herself, but the picture of her mother on her deathbed…that was a violation of basic human decency.

“As I said, we are very, very sorry about this,” Doctor Emanuel said. “It never should have happened, and I assure you, it will never happen again.”

“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” Dara mumbled, as much to herself as to the two men.

“The full committee will meet this afternoon to discuss this matter and evaluate how and where protocols might have been compromised. If there is a determination that changes should be made to our current systems, they will be instituted immediately.”

“That’s all well and good…Mr. Nuland, is it? But it’s not going to give my mother back her dignity now, is it? Or me my privacy?” It was so rare for Dara to lose her temper that the heat rising in her chest frightened her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, praying for patience and control. So many things were happening at once and her emotions were on overload. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be difficult. I’m normally pretty even-keeled. Everything is just a bit much for me right now.”

“Of course it is,” Doctor Emanuel said.

“I’m sure you and the hospital will take all necessary and appropriate actions.”

“What happened is regrettable. I wish it hadn’t happened. I assure you, I would change it if I could, Ms. Thomas.”

“I know you would.”

“Do you have any questions, Ms. Thomas?” Nuland asked. If not, I’ll leave you and Doctor Emanuel to discuss your mother’s condition.”

“Honestly, right now all I want is to focus on my mother.”

“Very well. If you decide later on that there are questions you’d like to ask specific to this…unfortunate…situation, here is my card.”

Dara took it.

“Again, I’m sorry for the lapse and I’m sorry about your mother.”

After he left, Dara and the doctor stood awkwardly facing each other.

“Well, then, let’s talk about your mother.”

As if on cue, Dara’s mother groaned, and Dara took her hand without thought. “Is she…?

Doctor Emanuel shook his head. “Vocalization is a common occurrence.” He removed the stethoscope from around his neck and conducted his examination.

When he’d finished, Dara asked, “Any change?”

“Not of the kind you’re looking for, I’m afraid. Her breath sounds are more shallow and her lungs are filling with fluid.”

Dara felt the tears well again in her eyes and she willed them not to spill onto her cheeks. “I suppose… I suppose it’s only going to get worse from here, right?”

Doctor Emanuel nodded.

“And if I authorize you to remove all life support now…”

“I can’t say for sure.”

“If she was your mother, what would you do?”

“I can’t make this decision for you. Only you can do that.”

Dara tried to read something, anything in the doctor’s expression. All she saw was compassion. “There’s no chance for improvement?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Dara entwined her fingers with her mother’s. “Let’s do it, then. I authorize you to remove all life support.”

Doctor Emanuel nodded. “Do you want to be here for that? It will take about half an hour or so.”

As much as Dara wanted to say no, she felt that she owed it to her mother to bear witness. “I’ll stay.”

“Very well. I’ll call the nurse and she’ll take care of gathering the respiratory therapist and the rest of the team, and we’ll get this done right now.” As Doctor Emanuel was about to leave the room, he turned around. “I promise you that we’ll continue to provide your mother with morphine for the pain and anything else she needs to keep her comfortable.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Do you want me to call the chaplain for you?”

“No, thank you.”

“Very well then, I’ll start the process right away.”

When it was done, Dara sat alone with her mother. The door was closed to give them some privacy and the room seemed so much more peaceful without the noise of the machines. In the quiet, the sound of her mother’s labored breathing seemed so much louder.

Dara took her mother’s hand again and held it loosely. Perhaps it was her imagination, or maybe wishful thinking, but her mother seemed more at ease now—more peaceful and serene, despite the rattling breath sounds.

As the hours passed, Dara’s eyelids began to grow heavy. The restless, memory-filled sleep last night, combined with all of the emotion of the past two days, was taking its toll. Still, she wasn’t ready to leave her mother’s side. No one, not even her mother, deserved to die alone. So Dara scooted the chair a little closer and laid her head on the side of the bed. If she could just rest her eyes for a few minutes, she could rally again. Within seconds, she was asleep.

The angel was large and luminous and light radiated everywhere around him. Dara watched as he effortlessly lifted her mother in his arms. “It’s time, Dara. It’s time for your mother to go home.”

Dara felt a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiled, enjoying the dream. Then someone squeezed her hand and her eyes popped open. She lifted her head in time to see her mother looking at her. She was certain that she must still be sleeping, but her mother squeezed again. This time, Dara squeezed back and covered her mother’s hand with her other hand.

Her mother mumbled something, and Dara leaned in closer. “What, Mother?” She put her ear right next to her mother’s lips.

“I’m…glad…you came.”

“Me too.” Dara’s eyes watered.

“You…were…right.”

“Right? Right about what?”

“There really…are…angels.”

At that, Dara cried. She watched as her mother left her body. Indeed, the radiance of the large angel Dara saw in her dream enfolded her mother. She wanted to say something, but the words, “I love you” wouldn’t come. Instead, she said, “Goodbye, Mother. Safe journey.”

And then the hand holding hers went limp. Dara looked back to her mother’s face. It was peaceful. She was gone.

 “How was your reunion?” Natalie asked Rebecca as they passed the Morgan Horse Farm on their way up the hill.

Should she share about the night with Sharon? What would Natalie think of that? Unconsciously, Rebecca picked up the pace. “It was…interesting.”

“Oh. Cryptic. Interesting in the cluster fuck sense, or interesting as in you met someone and are madly, deeply in love, or at least in lust.”

Again, Rebecca stepped up the pace. She took satisfaction in hearing Natalie struggle to breathe. Maybe it would keep her from asking any more questions. “Interesting, as in interesting. As in, not boring.”

“I remember when you used to be fun, you know that? And are you trying to kill me, or what?”

“Or what. Although the thought does have some appeal,” Rebecca joked. “Crazy killer kilometers kill popular professor. It has a nice ring to it.”

“Well done, but you’re obfuscating. You met someone, didn’t you?”

“I met a lot of people.”

Natalie growled in frustration. “Why are you being so difficult about this?”

“Difficult? Who’s being difficult?”

“You are. You had all that angst trying to decide whether or not you wanted to go, and now you won’t even talk about it?”

Rebecca frowned. Natalie was right, of course. She’d spent weeks agonizing about attending the reunion, and Natalie had been with her every step of the way—literally, since it had been on their runs that they hashed through the pros and cons. Surely she deserved a real answer.

“It got off to a rough start. The first person I ran into was the one I least wanted to see.”

“The moronic bully you told me about?”

“Yes. Him. Took him all of three seconds to revert to childhood.”

“Maybe he never left.”

“Probably. Anyway, he was predictably inappropriate, gross, and disgusting.”

“But you stood up to him, right?”

“I did.”

Natalie squealed and clapped her hands. “Excellent. See? I told you you could do it. I’m proud of you.” After a beat she added, “It was probably lost on him, though, huh?”