CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jill
Sunday
Fee and Jocelyn had only been gone a little while, but the awkwardness between Jill and Keith made it seem longer. Jill sensed he was unsure of his role or right to stay and noticed nervous tugs at the too-small Jimmy’s Tackle & Feed T-shirt he’d bought en route to the hospital, the bloody golf shirt in a plastic bag at their feet. Before Fee’s arrival, Jocelyn had been hyperchatty with questions about the golf game, the plumbing disaster, and their trek through the woods. There had been a goading tone to her comment, “What a turn of events you two have had.” Now, without Jocelyn’s prattle, worries for her mother cawed for attention. She thought Ruby’s head injury was straightforward, but the need for an MRI had her concerned. Also, Ruby’s gibberish back at the cabin weighed on her. And compounding everything, Keith’s proximity made the air thin and her breath catch.
He sat with his legs open, his arms dangling off his knees, and his head hanging low. “I hate hospitals,” he said finally.
Jill was brought out of her reverie. “Were you with your dad when he died?”
“Yes. And my mom, too.”
“What happened to your mom?”
A horrific car accident involving Keith’s mother, stepfather, and a patch of black ice was described. Keith had spent two weeks at her bedside before she was pulled off life support. He went on to recount a vacation spent visiting his father in Florida. Three hours into a fishing trip, his father had suffered a heart attack. The boat’s captain had saved his life with CPR, but a lot of damage had been done. He had open-heart surgery two days later, and passed away four days after that.
“Was he conscious those days in the hospital?”
“In a lot of pain,” Keith said. “But, yes, he was aware. We had some good talks.”
“About what?” Jill immediately felt she’d gone too far. “If it’s not too private.”
Keith sat back in the chair. “Choices, I guess. He told me to make good choices.” He kneaded the knuckles of his left hand with his right. “I’m not so sure he thought he’d made all the right ones.”
“In what way?”
“My parents weren’t well suited. I don’t think there was a lot of love between them.”
“Not even early in their marriage?”
“That I couldn’t say.”
Jill hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to bring it up. “Did you know your father dated my mother, once upon a time?”
Keith bent his head toward Jill. “I’d heard something to that effect.”
“It was the summer before my parents got married.” Jill crossed her legs and pulled the once-wet, now-stiff T-shirt in a small nervous gesture. “The summer my father was engaged to Hester.” The air-conditioning was too high. Jill wished for a sweater, or even a blanket. “In fact, your father may have been the nudge my dad needed.”
“What?”
“We were just kids with silly romantic notions, but Jocelyn and I used to beg my dad, over and over, to tell us the story.”
“What story?”
“As it goes, your dad came to town and took a liking to my mom.” Jill bounced her feet in an effort to circulate blood. “Have you ever seen a picture of her when she was young? She really was beautiful.”
“I could see that.”
“Your dad and my mom dated for a few weeks. My mom was my dad’s secretary at the time and living at the house, so he had to watch them coming and going. He said it was torture, but at least it forced him to admit his true feelings. He broke things off with your aunt and married my mom in October.”
“Are you going somewhere with this?” Keith asked.
Jill squirmed in her seat. “I’m wondering if your dad ever talked about my mom to you. That winter we were dating.”
“No.”
“Or in the hospital when he was sick?”
“No. Why would he?”
“You said he talked about choices.”
Keith opened his hands in a gesture of futility. “It doesn’t seem like he had much choice in that one. Sounds like your parents made theirs, and that was pretty much it.”
Jill settled back into the chair with her arms crossed. “You’re right. I don’t know why I brought it up.”
A large potted hydrangea wrapped in blue foil and a stuffed Saint Bernard the size of a compact car approached, the first carried by Fee, the latter by Jocelyn.
Jill looked up at the huge dog. “What on earth is that?”
“Mom will get a kick out of it,” Jocelyn said. “And she’ll love that we’re making a fuss.”
The swinging door opened at the far side of the room, and a man in a white lab coat walked toward them. “That’s Dr. Carver,” Jill said.
Keith started to say something, but stopped.
The doctor directed them back through the swinging doors, where they followed him down a long hallway. Jill wondered whether Keith should have remained in the waiting room. It seemed the doctor assumed he was immediate family.
As if tracking her thoughts, Keith said, “Maybe I should go back.”
“Nonsense,” Jocelyn said. “You’ve been such a big help and comfort today.” She nudged Jill in the ribs. “Hasn’t he?”
“Yes. A big comfort.” She surprised even herself with the sincerity of the remark.
The doctor led them into his office and switched on a light box, calling their attention to a series of X-rays and MRI scans. His finger floated above an opaque blob. “There is a mass here in your mother’s frontal lobe.”
“A mass?” Jill asked.
“Yes,” the doctor said. “A tumor.”
Jocelyn gasped and covered her mouth. Fee reached out to hold Jill’s hand.
“I suspect her fall was a symptom,” the doctor continued. “Loss of balance is common. Tell me, have you noticed any other changes in your mother? Defective memory? Impaired judgment? Personality changes? Confusion? Headaches? Problems with hearing?”
Jill felt sick to her stomach. Had she really been so blind? “Yes. All of them. She’s been a little feisty lately, and impulsive, and drinking more than usual, all things I chalked up to getting older. And a recent funeral had her revisiting the past and a little confused. I guess I attributed those to a kind of funk or depression.”
“Don’t blame yourself. Symptoms can be difficult to detect, particularly in elderly patients.”
“What happens now?” Jill asked.
“We’ll admit her and refer you to a team of specialists. A neurologist and a neurosurgeon to begin with. I imagine they will want to operate, and judging by the size of the tumor, fairly soon.”
“Admit her?” Jill was surprised.
“Yes. It’s a very large mass. We’ll want to keep her under observation.”
“And it is operable, then?” Jill asked.
“Most likely, yes. If for nothing else than to relieve the pressure the growth of the tumor has created.”
Jill didn’t like the sound of “if for nothing else.”
“Can we see her?” Jocelyn asked.
Dr. Carver checked his watch and then glanced up at the four of them. “It’s very late, and we had to sedate her for the MRI.” Jill thought he looked with pity at the odd crew, she in her wrinkled golf attire, Keith in the too-tight T-shirt, Jocelyn in her biker-chick getup hugging a gargantuan stuffed dog, and Fee holding the potted plant. “She’ll be moved to the third floor. Check in at the nurses’ station and I’m sure they’ll let you have a quick look in on her.”