“I’ve already called,” says a deep voice. “They’re on the way.”
My head jerks up to meet Kingsley’s hard-edged stare.
Before I can utter a sound, he swings away, leaving me alone in the foyer. Ice seeps into my veins as I stare into the study. Mom is hunkered over Dad, pressing on his chest. Her voice wobbles as she counts off compressions before pinching his nose and breathing into his mouth.
One, two, three, four, five...
Chapter Twelve
Mom, Austin, and I sit huddled on an uncomfortable fabric bench in the waiting area of the emergency room. There’s a handful of other people who have taken up sentinel like we have, waiting for news regarding a loved one. It feels like we’ve been here forever, and we still don’t know what’s going on with Dad.
The last sixty minutes continue to play on a vicious loop inside my head. Nothing I do makes it stop.
Stepping inside the house and hearing the raised voices.
Dad and Keaton arguing about the contract.
Keaton gleefully informing Dad that I’ve been sleeping with his son.
The disappointment and shock that had filled my father’s eyes.
Him clutching his chest and toppling over.
Oh God...
Is this really happening, or have I become trapped in a nightmare?
Dad is only in his late forties. I’m not saying he’s in the best shape of his life and could run a marathon, but for the most part, he eats right and exercises when time allows. He’s always been strong and healthy. There’s no reason he shouldn’t pull through this.
And yet, that does nothing to alleviate my concerns.
It took the paramedics fifteen minutes to arrive at the house. And during that time, Mom never stopped administering CPR. Dad was still breathing when they rushed in, converging on him before checking his vitals, securing him on a stretcher, and loading him into the back of an ambulance. Mom and I jumped into the Volvo and followed behind.
On the way to the hospital, I left a message on Austin’s phone before calling the school. Luckily, Mrs. Baxter was still working in the office and was able to get a hold of the head football coach. Five minutes later, Austin was in the G-wagon and heading to the only hospital within a sixty-mile radius. We arrived twenty minutes ago, and Austin rushed through the emergency room doors not ten minutes after that.
Mom swipes at the tears that leak from the corners of her eyes with trembling fingers.
“He’ll be fine.” Unsure how to comfort her, I rub soft circles over her back. “Dad is a fighter.” The idea of losing him is almost unfathomable. He’s the backbone of this family. How could we possibly survive without that?
She jerks her gaze to mine before blinking back more wetness and nodding. “He’s been under so much pressure lately.”
Ever since he took over Hawthorne Industries, he’s been putting in longer hours, skipping meals or grabbing fast food. And trying to find a way out of this mess...
It’s all taken a toll.
Austin jumps to his feet, pacing in front of the bench with a long-legged stride. “Why won’t they tell us what’s going on?” He swings around, prowling ten feet before spinning in a tight half circle. “Is it so damn hard to give us an update?” He stops and glares at the desk on the other side of the room. “This is complete bullshit.”
“Language,” Mom murmurs, but her words lack conviction. It’s more of a reflex than anything else. A tiny bit of normalcy in a world of chaos.
“Sorry,” Austin mutters before drawing himself up to his full height. “I’m going to check with the nurse at the desk. I’ll be back in a minute.”
My brother doesn’t stalk more than three steps when an older man in scrubs pushes out through an oversized metal door. He stops at the desk and speaks briefly with the woman before she glances in our direction. My mouth goes bone-dry as I scour his face for clues. Every step that brings him closer makes my heart pound faster until each beat becomes agonizing. My hand rises to rub gently at the spot.
“Mrs. Hawthorne?” His light blue gaze strays first to Austin and then to me before settling on our mother.
She rises unsteadily to her feet, hands clutched together in front of her until the knuckles turn white. “Is Griffin all right?” Her tongue darts out to smudge her lips. “Are we able to see him now?”
Emotion flickers in his eyes, but it’s there and gone before I can decipher what it means. A pit blooms at the bottom of my belly as my nerves stretch to the breaking point. Any moment, they’ll snap.
He gestures to a room off to the side that had until now, gone unnoticed. “I’d like to speak with you in private.”
Any color filling her face drains away as she jerks her head into a tight nod.
“Mom?” I say, popping to my feet, “should we come with you?”
Fear pools in her bloodshot eyes as they dart to me. “Let me speak with the doctor alone.”
My teeth sink into my lower lip until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. The need to reach out and stop her from leaving thrums through me as if that has the potential to alter the outcome. Or, at the very least, prolong the inevitable.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize we’re standing at the precipice. Once she crosses it, nothing will ever be the same. There’s no going back. I want to keep her with us for as long as possible.
My brother takes a step toward her. “Mom—”
“Austin, please,” she whispers, voice cracking on his name. “Let me figure out what’s going on. Then we’ll talk.”
His wide shoulders slump under the heaviness of the moment. It feels bone-crushing in its intensity.
“Yeah, fine,” he mumbles.
Silently we watch as the doctor leads Mom to the private room before holding open the door. Once she walks past, he shutters them away. I don’t realize there’s a thin sliver of window until Mom is standing in front of it. My breath gets trapped in my lungs. Even though I can’t see the doctor, I know her gaze is pinned to him. She jerks her head and continues staring. From this distance, I see fresh tears well in her eyes. Within moments, she buries her face in both hands.
No.
No.
No.
This can’t be happening.
Austin slips an arm around my shoulders before hauling me close. “He’ll be fine, Summer. He has to be.”
As desperate as I am to believe my brother, somehow, I know he’s wrong. Once again, our lives are about to change and there’s nothing we can do to stop it from happening.
Chapter Thirteen
Cardiac arrest.
The official cause of Dad’s death.
It’s been six days since he passed away.
Six.
The last image I have of my father is when the paramedics loaded him into the back of the ambulance. He was still breathing when they arrived at the hospital and rushed him into the emergency room. That’s where his heart stopped. They spent twenty minutes trying to resuscitate him but weren’t able to bring him back.
Stretched out on my bed, I stare blindly at the ceiling, unable to comprehend his death. How can he be gone? My mind spins. It’s almost impossible to fathom how we got to this place. Six months ago, I’d never heard of this shit town. Our lives had been in Chicago. And Dad had been fine.
Alive.
And now...
He’s not.
And I’m trapped in a nightmare.
One I can’t wake from.
Three days ago, we held the funeral. Mom’s sister, Aunt Trish, flew in from California and there were friends and work colleagues who drove up from Chicago. Employees from Hawthorne Industries also attended, paying their last respects. Everly showed up with her father. I hadn’t realized he was the New York lawyer Dad hired. I suppose I should have put two and two together. It meant a lot to see everyone celebrate Dad’s life. We reminisced and told funny stories that made me smile through the tea
rs.
It was only after the service that I noticed Kingsley and Keaton in attendance. The idea that either were at the church to offer condolences felt like a slap in the face. It took all of my effort to keep Austin from losing his shit. Thankfully, they left as quietly as they’d crept in.
The time that has unfolded since is a blur. Each new day feels like a formidable mountain that needs to be scaled. It hasn’t even been a week and already I’m exhausted. I have no idea how we’re supposed to carry on. How do we pick up the shattered pieces and continue without Dad?
Life has become a thorny mess with more questions than there are answers. There is no longer anyone to go to with our concerns. Mentally, Mom has checked out. Once the shock of Dad’s death wore off at the hospital, she started sobbing and couldn’t stop. How do you reach someone steeped so deeply in grief? In desperation, we called the emergency room doctor from the hospital and he prescribed something to help calm her nerves. Instead of weeping continuously, she now sleeps like the dead.
There are times when she’s so groggy, she doesn’t remember that Dad is gone. Having to explain what happened all over again is gut-wrenching. Since she was in no frame of mind to plan the funeral, Aunt Trish helped. Mom sat as still as a statue in the first pew of the church and didn’t interact with anyone.
Austin returned to school two days after Dad died, but I haven’t been back since.
How can I leave Mom alone?
At this point, she’s barely functioning. It’s a scary sight to behold. The only reason she’s eating is because meals are brought to her bedroom. Half the time, they go untouched.
It’s the chiming of the doorbell that knocks me out of my turbulent thoughts. With a quick puff of air, I haul myself from the bed before glancing at the clock on the nightstand. It’s only four in the afternoon. Austin is still at football practice, and there’s no way Mom will leave her room to answer the door.
I wrap my hoodie around my body as I pad into the hallway and down the sweeping staircase to the foyer. It’s early October and there’s a definite chill to the air. I have no idea if Mom has turned on the heat for the house. I should probably check.
From the moment Austin and I were born, Mom has taken care of us and now she can barely fend for herself. That knowledge leaves me feeling lost and adrift. Without Dad, and Mom knocked out of commission, there is no one to count on. No one to turn to for help. The enormousness of our lives has now fallen on me.
And the weight of it is crushing.
Aunt Trish offered to return for a couple of weeks, but she wasn’t able to take the time off from work after the funeral. Plus, she has three kids of her own who are in elementary and middle school. It’s not like she can leave them alone for weeks on end. They need their mother, too. And she lives in California, which is practically across the country. Since Hawthorne isn’t exactly a bustling metropolitan, the closest airport is hours away. It only makes the logistics more complicated.
As the bell peals for a second time, I pull open the door only to find a strange man standing on the other side of the threshold. “Can I help you?”
Since Dad died, there have been a slew of flower deliveries. That assumption is blown out of the water when I realize he’s not holding a vase full of fresh blooms or a plant.
“Good afternoon,” he says cordially, “I’m looking for Eloise Hawthorne.”
The guy is dressed in a suit and holds a manilla envelope in his hand. I don’t recognize him, but it’s possible he’s from Hawthorne Industries and is here dropping off paperwork. Dad might be gone, but the company, unfortunately, continues on. It’s just another thing I’ll have to deal with.
I hug the door a little closer to my body. “She’s not available right now.”
“That’s a problem. I have documents that need to be hand delivered and signed for.” Along with the packet, he holds a small electronic device.
With a frown, my brows draw together as I stare at the envelope. “Who is it from?”
“Sorry, miss, I’m not at liberty to say.” He retreats from the front porch. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“Wait!” I don’t know what the envelope contains, but what if it’s important? “I’m Eloise’s daughter. Is it possible for me to sign for it?”
His footsteps falter. “Are you over the age of eighteen?”
“Yes.”
Silently he mulls it over before shrugging. “Sure, I guess that would be fine.”
He holds out the electric pad and stylus to scrawl my name. As soon as I return the device, he hands over the package.
“Have a nice night.” With that, he leaves me standing in the doorway.
I watch as he slides behind the wheel of a fancy black sedan before pulling out of the driveway. Only then do I glance at the thick packet in my hand. Mom’s name and address are typed on a white label on the front of the envelope. I flip it over, unable to find a return address.
That’s odd.
My hands tighten around the package as I trudge up the staircase to the second floor. Whatever this is, it must be important for someone to go through all the trouble of hand delivering it. At the top of the stairs, I turn to the right and move toward my parents’ master suite. Thirty steps brings me to the closed door of Mom’s bedroom. Unsure what I’ll find, I press my ear against the thick wood and listen for sounds of life.
There are none. It’s been this way for almost a week. I realize Mom is going through a tough time. We all are, but I need her to snap out of it and take control.
I raise my fist and hesitate before rapping my knuckles against the door.
When my knock is met with silence, I add a little more force to it and try again. “Mom?” I pause for a beat. “Are you awake?”
Guilt rushes in for disturbing her, but all she does is sleep. At some point, she needs to rejoin the land of the living. We can’t continue like this for much longer.
When my second attempt goes unanswered, I wrap my fingers around the handle and push the door open before taking a peek inside. The normally bright and spacious room is shrouded in shadows. As my eyes adjust to the gloom, I spy Mom curled up in the middle of the bed. She’s burrowed beneath the covers as if she’s a small child hiding from the monsters in her closet. If not for the slight snoring, I’d be concerned that she had done something stupid.
This is the first time I’ve had to deal with this kind of all-encompassing grief. It’s nothing short of terrifying and it only makes me realize how powerless I am to help her or make the situation better. The only thing I know how to do is take charge and hold our lives together until she can surface from the depression she’s fallen into.
I could wake her up, but what then?
Will she remember that Dad is gone, or will I have to explain it to her all over again? Honestly, I don’t have the energy for that. I chew my lower lip before creeping out of the room. Whatever is contained in the envelope can wait until morning. I’ll talk to her at breakfast before she numbs the pain with fresh medication.
It might not be a bad idea to look over the paperwork first. Then I can bottom line it for her. With that decision made, I return to my room and settle on the bed before sliding my finger under the flap and lifting the sheath of papers from the envelope.
Dread curls like a wisp of smoke in my belly as I realize where the correspondence originated from.
Keaton Rothchild.
Even though every other word is legal jargon that makes comprehension difficult, what becomes clear is that he has every intention of moving forward with the lawsuit.
Unless...
The Hawthornes fulfill the original terms that were agreed upon with the caveat I live under their roof. A trapdoor springs open and I’m sent into freefall. The letters on the thick sheet of paper swim before my eyes.
How can he demand this of me at a time like this?
Dad is dead.
How much more will he extract from us?
Everything.
He’ll squeeze us for every drop and even then, he’ll be greedy for more.
My mouth dries as a wave of dizziness crashes over me. Hoping that I misread the document, I pour over it a dozen more times. Even though I want to crumple the papers and throw them in the garbage can where they belong, that’s not an option.
Maybe I should wake Mom. She needs to know what new demands Keaton is making. My knees turn to jelly as I rise to my feet and take a tentative step toward the door before stumbling to a halt.
But...then what?
Will she be able to protect me?
How will she fight this?
The woman can barely rouse herself enough to get out of bed and use the bathroom. She’s functioning with only scant moments of clarity. What if this new demand pushes her further over the edge?
There’s no way I can allow that to happen. Loneliness and grief flood through every cell in my body as I sink to the bed. Since Dad died, I’ve tried so hard to be the strong one. To keep all the turbulent emotions tamped down where I can pretend they don’t exist, but I won’t be able to do it much longer. It’s taking too much of a toll.
With a broken sob, my head falls into my hands as the hot sting of tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this lost or alone in my life.
Chapter Fourteen
It’s after seven o’clock when Austin walks through the door after practice. Each day, the time gets later and later. My guess is that he’s trying to avoid the house altogether. I don’t blame him for wanting to escape, but I can’t be the only one holding down the fort.
I pace the length of my room, waiting for the shower to stop running. Then I give it ten more minutes before forcing myself to walk through the hallway and knock on his door. “Aus?”
Not waiting for a response, I peek inside. His hair is still damp as he digs through the contents of his backpack before tossing a few books onto his bed.
Queen of Hawthorne Prep Page 9
