I SAT QUIETLY perched on the chair opposite Dr. Miller’s desk at Magnolia Woods. Though Alton was in the chair beside me, I occupied my time with taking in the surroundings. The office was large for an institution; however, I’d venture to guess that at one time it had been a home, a grand Georgia mansion. The dark oak paneling gave a warm yet regal feel and the large windows, unblocked by drapes, looked out upon the lush, scenic grounds.

It was supposedly the best private facility in the state. According to the brochure I’d taken from the reception area, many clients came from out of state and even internationally to experience the skilled and caring staff as well as the luxurious surroundings. Even now out on the lawn were many clients, walking the paths through the gardens and enjoying the mild autumn air and sunshine.

If only Momma could be one of them.

She wasn’t.

Before going to our meeting, Alton and I visited Momma’s room. She was the same as she’d been yesterday and the day before. Only briefly did her eyes open as if recognizing my voice, but then just as quickly, she was asleep.

I wanted to believe she’d get better. I wanted to talk to her and let her know I was here. Instead, I smoothed back her hair, noticed the sprinkling of gray that had never before been visible and made a mental note to find out about the facility’s salon or learn if I could bring a beautician to her. It wasn’t much, but I knew how important appearances were to my momma, and no makeup and gray roots were not what she would want.

I held her hand and talked. With Alton present, I told her about my moving to Savannah and about making plans for a Christmas Eve wedding. I never said I was engaged and avoided using Bryce’s name. It wasn’t necessary. Alton was there to fill in the blanks.

“I did it, Laide,” he’d said. “I told you I would. It’s all going to work out. Alexandria understands her responsibility and is ready to take her place where she belongs.”

I knew better than to contradict him.

That didn’t mean that I agreed, only that I’d avoided further confrontation.

My goal was to meet and talk with Dr. Miller. If I had to play nice to do that, I would.

“Where is that man? Doesn’t he know I have a schedule to maintain?”

Alton’s impatience pulled me from thoughts of my mother. “The receptionist said he had an emergency, but that he’d be here as soon as possible.”

Alton stood and paced about the office. “Two more minutes and we’re leaving. I have better uses of my time…”

His words trailed away as the door opened.

“Mr. Fitzgerald,” a tall, handsome man said, nodding toward Alton.

Alton extended his hand. “Dr. Miller, I was just telling my daughter—”

“Yes, your daughter,” Dr. Miller said as he turned my direction and extended his hand. “Alexandria? Isn’t that correct?”

His shining brown eyes scanned me before settling on mine as we shook hands.

“Dr. Miller, we heard you have information regarding my mother?”

“Yes.” He made his way to the other side of the desk as Alton retook the chair to my left.

No longer shining, his expression dulled as his words slowed. “I understand that you, Mr. Fitzgerald, are a busy man. I’ll get right to the heart of the subject.”

I sat taller, scooting to the edge of the chair, my back and neck straight with my knees and ankles together and my hands neatly folded on my lap. It was the perfect posture, yet inside I was a bundle of nerves, each one stretching and snapping as the tension built.

Dr. Miller opened an old-fashioned folder upon his desk. “The blood tests indicate high levels of the opioid hydrocodone. We’re running further tests that will indicate the length of exposure and at what levels.”

“Why is that significant?” Alton asked. “You know what she took. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“Knowing is part of the plan,” Dr. Miller said. “It’s a good thing you brought her here. An overdose of this nature can be fatal.”

I sucked in a breath, though my lungs remained empty. This was real. It wasn’t a ploy. I blinked away the moisture and concentrated on Dr. Miller’s words.

“Fatal?” I asked.

“Yes, Miss Fitzgerald.”

“Collins.”

“Collins, I’m sorry. Well, thankfully, your father realized the severity and sought treatment. From her previous records from…” He thumbed through the papers in the file. “…Dr. Beck, Adelaide’s normal body weight is anywhere from 122 to 119. Currently she weighs 109 pounds. Loss of appetite and nausea are early signs of hydrocodone overdose. Other symptoms include confusion and weakness.” He turned toward Alton. “Didn’t you say that she had been acting confused?”

“Yes, saying things that made no sense. She even drove to local places and would become lost. I’d receive calls that she was out and about. I’d send someone to get her and later she’d have no memory of the incident.”

Dr. Miller shook his head. “Mrs. Fitzgerald also had a blood alcohol concentration of 0.22%.”

“Is that high?” I asked.

“The legal limit for driving in Georgia is 0.08%. Your mother’s level was almost triple that content. Most people are unconscious at 0.30%. A significant factor is that we didn’t take her blood for over an hour after she was admitted. The body metabolizes alcohol at a rate of 0.016% per hour.” Again he turned to Alton. “You brought her in during the late morning. Was it usual for your wife to drink early in the morning?”

Alton shook his head. “Doctor, I’m usually at work when my wife wakes. I don’t know how early she begins drinking. It did seem as though she had been consuming more as of late.”

“It’s the combination,” Dr. Miller explained. “Mixing opioids and alcohol creates a depressed state. The two chemicals interact in a way that creates negative effects. The opioids slow the central nervous system, decreasing respiration and pain signals. Vicodin also contains acetaminophen, which blocks the pain signals. That’s why it helped with Adelaide’s headaches. Alcohol is also a depressant, slowing respiration and other body functions. It’s different than Vicodin, but both put strain on the body and organs, especially the liver. We have more tests scheduled to assess her liver enzymes as well as the function of her other organs, including her heart.”

“Her heart? Does she have heart problems?” I remembered Alton saying that she did, but I wanted to hear it from the doctor.

“The combination of opioids and alcohol creates hypotension. The slowing of the heart muscle leads to abnormally low blood pressure. Just as high blood pressure is dangerous for the heart so is low blood pressure. We haven’t fully assessed the damage that Mrs. Fitzgerald has done to herself.”

“Why is she sedated?” I asked.

“The process of detoxification is tricky. Your mother’s body has become accustomed to the toxins. Removing them has its own array of side effects: irritability, anxiety, headaches, nightmares, and insomnia. The primary nurse assigned to Mrs. Fitzgerald has noted episodes of anxiety and paranoia while attempting to minimize the current medication. It’s for your mother’s own good and comfort to sleep through the difficult process.”

“Is she in pain?”

“No, Miss Collins, your mother is blissfully unaware. The midazolam in her IV is keeping her from experiencing the brutal reality of her choices.”

“How long will she be medicated?”

“I can’t answer that,” Dr. Miller said. “We’re doing continual tests. The liver enzymes will be essential. If it’s too damaged, if the enzymes are too high, we will need to rethink our treatment. We don’t want to cause additional damage.”

“Doctor,” Alton said, “do whatever you need to do. Money isn’t an object.”

“She’s a lucky woman. This treatment is not always covered by insurance and can be quite costly. Once the toxins are removed from her body, intense counseling will be necessary.”

Alton turned toward me. “Alexandria, don’t you agree that your mother should have the best care that money can buy?”

My respirations came quick and shallow. I’d hoped for a miracle. I’d prayed that when I arrived at this place, I’d find my mother the vital woman I remembered. Instead, she was exactly as Alton had said.

“Alexandria?” he asked again. “Dr. Miller and I are waiting for your answer. Do you agree that your mother should continue treatment here at Magnolia Woods?”

Do you agree to sacrifice your life and happiness to save your mother? That was the real question he was asking.

Swallowing, I nodded at Dr. Miller. “Will you please keep me informed?”

Dr. Miller’s gaze moved quickly from mine to Alton’s and back. “Your father is the only one your mother listed on her HIPAA form, but this is a private facility so as long as he gives his approval, we can speak directly with you.

“Mr. Fitzgerald?”

“Alexandria?” Alton asked again, his tone strained by the repeated attempts to get me to answer.

“Yes and yes,” I said, still not looking his direction.

“Test results come to me first,” Alton said. “Daily communication can be shared with our daughter. I’m sure she’ll have more time to spend with her mother than I.”

“Very well, Miss Collins, I’ll be sure that information is added to your mother’s chart.”