8

The tower of Bichat Hospital loomed, cold and imposing, over the Porte de Saint-Ouen. Nico had rushed over a few hours earlier, a bundle of nerves. The once-familiar gnawing in his gut had been reawakened. He had already lost his father. He wanted more time—a lot more time—with his mother. She was still young and full of energy. He rebuked himself for taking her to Ukraine; she’d had the vague feeling of having come full circle in that ancestral land. The trip had jinxed them.

Nico had been taken down a long hallway with cold fluorescent lights to the intensive coronary-care unit. It felt like a hostile environment, where doctors and nurses marched with muffled steps to the beat of beeping machines. Organ failure called for sophisticated technology and close surveillance. Welcome to hell, Nico thought. Here, a patient’s life could hang by a single strand. Everything could be lost in a second. What was his mother doing in such a terrible place?

“Mr. Sirsky?”

Nico froze. When was the last time he took his mother to lunch on the Île Saint-Louis, a few steps from his office? Anya loved the terrace at Le Flore en l’Île on the Quai d’Orléans and the famous Berthillon ice cream served there. The restaurant was often packed with tourists, but the views of the Seine and Notre-Dame Cathedral were astonishing.

“Mr. Sirsky?”

Nico thrust his hand toward the person in the white coat. Good God, what had happened?

“I’m Dr. Fursac, head of the intensive coronary-care unit.”

This was the man who had called, the bearer of bad news.

“What happened? Where’s my mother?” Nico asked in a tone he didn’t recognize.

“Come with me to my office, and I’ll explain.”

They sat down facing each other. The silence was uncomfortable. Nico’s anxiety kept him from talking.

“Your mother has suffered a heart attack.”

Your father will die. You need to prepare yourself.

“It happened while she was eating at La Lorraine at the Place des Ternes. Roger called an ambulance immediately. He’s waiting at the entrance. He’d like to talk to you before he leaves.”

Nico tried to think. Who was Roger? Why had he come to the hospital with his mother?

We’re making your father comfortable. He’s in no pain.

“Because it was cardiac arrest, the medics began CPR.”

Right hand flat on the sternum, left hand on top. Use both arms to depress the rib cage, then release. Maintain blood flow to the brain and the rest of the body.

Oh, right! Roger was the maître d’ at La Lorraine.

“They used a defibrillator to shock your mother’s heart.”

His vital functions have stopped. Your father is dead.

“Once the ambulance came, the medic intubated her.”

Nico imagined the sirens wailing, the ambulance barreling through red lights and weaving through traffic. And his mother lying inside, unconscious, defenseless, dependant on a machine. A nightmare.

“When she arrived here, we put her on a ventilator.”

She wasn’t breathing on her own. Nico came back to reality.

“I have to ask, Mr. Sirsky, if your mother’s affairs are in order and if she has specified any final directives, should her condition take an even more serious turn.”

Tears were welling in his eyes. She was alive, but this gift could be taken away at any moment. Final directives? He had never asked, and she had never broached the subject. She probably knew that he would refuse to discuss anything related to her death.

There was a knock on the door. Dr. Fursac got up to let the visitor in. Nico turned slowly, lost in thought, and saw Caroline. He pulled her into his arms.

Caroline turned to the doctor. “What’s the prognosis?”

“It depends,” Dr. Fursac replied. “First, concerning any cerebral anoxia…”

“That’s when the brain doesn’t get enough oxygen because of cardiac arrest,” Caroline explained to Nico. “There can be neurological aftereffects. Fortunately, most patients survive without any problems.”

“In her case, it’s too early to tell,” Dr. Fursac said. “For now, your mother is asleep. We’ve put her in an induced coma, which is standard procedure when we have to ventilate a patient.”

“She’s sedated and will be kept comfortable,” Caroline said.

“We’ll keep her sedated for about twelve hours. Then she should wake up. If, after forty-eight hours, her neurological state is fine, we’ll remove the intubation tube and transfer her to a step-down unit.”

Caroline nodded.

“The other issue is her ventricular fibrillation,” Dr. Fursac said. “We’ll have to determine the cause of this attack.”

“But we’re not there yet,” Caroline said to Nico. “We need to be optimistic, and take this one step at a time. Every hour that Anya remains stable will give us a bit more hope.”

“I understand,” Nico said. “Can I see her?”

“Your mother is unconscious, and she won’t know that you’re there,” Dr. Fursac said. “We’ll have to keep it brief.”

“I’d like that, please.”

“First, can you tell me who her primary-care physician is? I need to contact him.”

“Umm, yes,” Nico stammered. “Dr. Alexis Perrin. He’s on the Rue Soufflot in the fifth arrondissement. He’s my brother-in-law. What do you need from him?”

“Dr. Fursac needs to know if Anya’s had any recurring problems with tachycardia,” Caroline said.

“He’d have told us,” Nico said.

“Not without her consent, honey. Even if he’s part of the family, he’s still bound by confidentiality.”

“Shall we go in?” Dr. Fursac asked.

They walked down the long, narrow hallway, brushing past white walls covered with posters of landscapes. Were these images of mountains and lakes supposed to relieve visitors’ stress? If so, Nico thought, they weren’t doing the trick. Dr. Fursac took them through the double doors to the nurses’ station and the patient rooms surrounding it.

“You’ll have to wash your hands and wear a gown over your clothes.”

“The intensive coronary-care unit is amazing,” Caroline said, quickly putting on the gown. “A unit like this saves lives every day. It has the most advanced medical technology in the world. We should be thankful that Anya made it here.”

As if they were floating on air, the medical staff moved from patient to patient, checking the machines, taking measurements, and repositioning IV bags and tubes. Despite Caroline’s reassuring presence, Nico was having a hard time controlling his distress. He felt like he was sinking into cold quicksand.

They found Anya’s bed. She was barely recognizable. A central venous catheter was connected to her neck. Lines running from monitoring machines to pads attached to her chest recorded her rhythms in incomprehensible spikes and curves. She was immobile and looked almost dead. Only her rib cage moved with any regularity, pushed up and down by the ventilator. Its whooshing accompanied the beeps of the machines. Nico bit his lip.

“You can say something to her,” Caroline said tenderly.

He paused to collect his thoughts. Then he whispered:

“In bleak despair and isolation
My days stretched on in quiet strife:
No awe of God, no inspiration,
No love, no tears, no sense of life.

And now once more I’ve seen that vision:
My soul awoke; I saw your face,
A fleeting moment’s apparition
Of perfect beauty and of grace.

My spirit soars in exaltation,
And once again there reappears
The awe of God...and inspiration...
The sense of life...and love...and tears.”

His mother had recited these lines by Pushkin so many times, he knew them by heart.

“Hang in there, Maman,” Nico said.

He stroked her forehead the same way she had stroked his when he was a child.

“Ya tebya liubliu,” he said.

They left the room and went back down the hall. In the lobby, they saw a man in a suit and black bow tie. He was nervously fidgeting with the edge of his jacket.

“You’re Nataliya’s son!” the man said as soon as he spotted Nico.

Nataliya? Nico looked at the man, uncomprehending.

“Sorry, that’s Anya. I call her Nataliya. You know, after Gilbert Bécaud’s song ‘Nathalie,’ because its mention of the Pushkin Café on the Red Square turning white under the snow—”

Nico just stared at him for a moment, then said, “You must be Roger. She’s still alive, and it’s thanks to you.”

“I am so relieved that we could get her here quickly. I know you’re very busy, but how is she?”

“We’ll have to wait and see. I’m happy to keep you updated.”

“Would you please? I’d really appreciate it.”

“Nico!” He turned at the sound of his sister’s voice. Tanya and Alexis were running toward him. She held out her arms. She was shaking. Her blue eyes were welling with tears, and her long blonde hair was a mess.

“She’s alive, Tanya. Mama’s alive.”

Nico gave his brother-in-law a cold stare.

“She wouldn’t let me break doctor-patient confidentiality,” Alexis said. “She didn’t want to worry any of you. You know how stubborn she can be. We got here as quickly as we could.”

“We understand, Alex,” Caroline said quickly.

Alexis and Caroline had gone to medical school together, and it was because of Alexis and Tanya that he had met Caroline.

“Tell us,” Nico insisted.

“Anya came to see me shortly after we got back from our trip. She was having chest pains. I ordered several tests, including electrocardiography and an ultrasound. They came back fine. All the same, I wanted her to go to the hospital and get one of those portable machines that measures cardiac activity over a twenty-four-hour span. A Holter. Anya agreed to do it, but she canceled her appointment twice. I was so furious, I threatened to quit as her doctor so I could tell you. She finally agreed and was set to go to the hospital next week.”

Alexis hung his head. Caroline put her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m scared,” Tanya said. She sounded exhausted.

“I’m sorry,” Nico said to Alexis. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Have you told Lana and Bogdan yet?” Caroline asked.

“Not yet,” said Tanya. Alexis and Tanya’s children were still at school. “I just left a message for them on the kitchen counter. We’ll tell them when we get home.”

“I’ll have to break the news to Dimitri tonight too,” Nico said. “He calls his grandmother about everything. Caroline and Alexis, could you keep track of Mom’s condition? You’re the experts.” Both doctors nodded.

“Visitors are only allowed in the evenings,” Caroline said.

“I’ll come tomorrow at six o’clock,” Nico said.

“I’ll come with you,” Tanya said.

“Of course. Call me later.”

Once he was back outside, Nico looked at his phone. There were several text messages from colleagues who said they were keeping Anya in their thoughts and prayers.

“Dimitri might be home by now,” he said.

“I’ve already told him that we’ll be late,” Caroline said.

“I’m so glad we’re all under the same roof these days. Have I thanked you today for moving in with us?”

“No, I don’t think so, sweetie. But I forgive you. You thanked me yesterday. While I’m thinking of it, don’t forget to call Jacqueline and André.”

Ties with his former in-laws had been strained during the time Dimitri’s mother, Sylvie, struggled with depression and prescription-drug dependence. But Nico had managed to mend fences with Jacqueline and Andre, and they had begun seeing Dimitri again. Sylvie, who had gone into rehab, was doing better now. She was splitting her time between Paris and Royan, where her aunt lived and where she sometimes saw Dimitri. He was dragging his feet, though, and seemed to be closer to Caroline than Sylvie. In the throes of her depression, Sylvie had neglected her son, and Dimitri had suffered for it.

“Jacqueline and Andre care about Anya,” Caroline said. “And they know how much Dimitri loves his grandmother.”

“Of course.”

Nico opened the car door for Caroline. He walked around and got in on his side. Driving away from the hospital seemed like abandoning his mother, and he felt unease in his gut. He put his hand on Caroline’s thigh, and she put her hand over his. Her touch reassured him.

Just as he was beginning to breathe normally again, the hands-free phone in the car rang.

“Nico?” It was Claire Le Marec calling for news.

He took a deep breath. “She’s alive, but it’s too soon to tell. Fill me in on the case.”