“That sounds perfect.” Addison would make a meal for Tally to take home with her, offer to help with back-to-school shopping, whatever they needed.
Then she remembered the attorney appointments. The hearing coming up. The money it would cost to defend her husband for a crime he very well might have committed. She’d do it all. Somehow.
EMILIA STARED AT Roger’s closed eyes. They had hardly opened since he’d been admitted to the hospital. And when he did seem somewhat conscious, he was impossible to understand and didn’t appear to know where he was. She needed one last chance to tell him that she loved him, that he’d made a difference in her life and in Tally’s, that she wouldn’t trade any of their days together, not even considering the hardships they’d faced.
With every moment that ticked by, she felt like her chances of ever having a conversation again with her husband were slipping away. Her last memories with him would be covered with the bitterness she’d allowed to invade their home. She was guilty, and she wouldn’t get a chance to be forgiven.
A tap on the door startled her.
Dr. Harrison stepped in. “Good morning, Emilia. Did you get home to sleep last night?”
She shook her head. How could she go when any minute could be his last?
The doctor walked to the head of Roger’s bed and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Roger, it’s Dr. Harrison. I’m going to go over your test results and the plan we’ve developed for your treatment. I know you’re having a hard time waking up. That’s to be expected, but I’ll try to cover everything, so hopefully any questions you may have will be answered.”
Emilia slid her hand into her husband’s.
His fingers pulsed against hers. Whether the action was voluntary or not was something only God and Roger knew.
“So, after consulting with some specialists in Portland, we feel confident that Roger’s aneurysm is a result of the original accident. The symptoms you’ve been describing tell us this problem has been coming on for a bit now, but it’s reached a very serious point.”
“Why didn’t anyone notice this with all the scans he had? I don’t understand.” Emilia’s heart hammered, its rhythm an echo in her ears.
“I wish it were that simple. It actually didn’t exist then. Likely the wall of the artery was damaged in the initial accident, but the aneurysm formed much later.”
Emilia grabbed the collar of her T-shirt with her free hand. She hadn’t brought Roger in for the last follow-up appointment. She’d done this to her husband. An alcoholic had taken the first shot, but she’d finished the job.
“Are you okay?” Dr. Harrison came around the bed, his hand grasping her shoulder as the other took her elbow. He eased her into the chair at Roger’s bedside. “Can you take a couple of deep breaths for me?”
Her lungs hardened, only allowing puffs of air while tears flushed her eyes. “Neither of us could deal with any more medical stuff. I needed a break from the paperwork and all of this, just for a little while.” She covered her face with her hands.
“Emilia, the cost should be covered by his workers’ comp. And if it isn’t, the hospital will work this out with your personal insurance.”
“No.” Her voice shuddered. “I was so overwhelmed with everything . . . I didn’t bring him in for the scan in June.”
“Okay. I see the problem.” He patted her shoulder like a grandfather would. “Emilia, even if you would have come in, I doubt this would have shown up. It’s new. To the best of our knowledge, the aneurysm only formed over the last few weeks.”
She lifted her face out of her hands, her breaths shaky. “What happens now?”
“Well, now we can try to correct the problem, or we can let it be. There’s a choice to be made.” His graying eyebrows pushed together.
“If we do nothing?”
“The nonoperative measure would be to do nothing. The mortality rate is about forty percent, and with what we know about the stage of Roger’s condition, I believe it could be much higher. Left completely alone, the aneurysm will likely continue to enlarge and finally rupture, and Roger will pass away.”
Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. How could she have ever wanted this?
“But there is another alternative.” The doctor patted Roger’s leg. “We can go in and attempt to clip the aneurysm. It’s risky too, but our odds of losing him go down to about twenty percent.”
“One of five?” Her voice was a raspy whisper.
“That’s right. This is your choice. But, Emilia, you need to make it soon.” He dipped his head and closed his eyes for a few seconds as if he were praying.
That was exactly what Emilia needed to do.
34
Addison squinted into the brightly lit backyard where Hannah and Tally kicked a soccer ball back and forth. The light pinged off the nerves behind one eye, causing a pulsing above her left eyebrow.
“Mama, do you have a headache?” Lilly rubbed her little hand gently over the exposed skin on Addison’s arm.
“Yes, baby, I do.” She scooped the child into her embrace. The days she would still be able to carry her youngest were swiftly coming to an end. “Thank you for being such a caring girl.”
Lilly placed a hand on either side of Addison’s face. “Let me get you something for that.” She wriggled out of her mother’s arms and tiptoed to the junk drawer. Stretching her arm out, she maneuvered her fingers until they reached the farthest point in the back. She pulled out an acetaminophen bottle and tried the lid. “I can’t get this.”
Addison held out her hand. “How did you know there was medicine in the back of the drawer?”
“Grammy got it out for Daddy before he went to town.”
Something clicked in Addison’s brain. Caleb still wasn’t cleared to drive. “When was this, Lilly?”
“Before his accident. His head hurt, so she told him to take it just in case.”
Addison twisted the lid, lining up the arrows, and popped off the top. She dumped the contents into her palm. Five large oval-shaped tablets. She scooped them back into the container, then took down the bottle of prescribed medication that Caleb kept refusing. The bottle was light. When she opened it, a handful of round tablets spilled into her palm. These weren’t the pain pills that had been here before. These were plain acetaminophen.
Nausea swept over her as her mouth went dry. “Caleb!” She shouted the name as if he’d come running. “Caleb, come in here!”
“Mama, what’s wrong?” Lilly’s hand grasped hers.
“Nothing. I just want to talk with Daddy. Can you take some soda out to the girls?”
Lilly froze.
“You can have a can too.”
Her daughter might be curious, but she also knew better than to give up an opportunity for a pop. Lilly swung open the refrigerator door, retrieved three cans of Coke, and jogged out the back door.
Addison leaned over the sink, her stomach swaying. What did this mean for that night?
Caleb clomped into the kitchen, his walking cast sending nails through Addison’s throbbing skull. Behind him, Connor carried a remote-control car and controller. “Did you just holler for me?” Her husband was out of breath, and sweat beaded along his temples.
“Yes. Connor, can you head outside?”
He peered out the back door. “Hey, the girls have pop.”
“Get one and go, please.” She heard the demand in her voice, but this wasn’t the time to berate herself for a parenting fail. She could do that later.
He threw open the fridge and grabbed a can. “Whatever.” He tossed the word back at her as he left the kitchen, leaving a wave of guilt behind.
“What in the world is going on?”
She slapped both bottles into his hand, then turned back to the sink, pulling up the faucet until cold water cascaded into the basin. She cupped her hands, filling them with the icy liquid from the deep well and splashing it across her face.
“What’s this?”
“Open them.” Addison repeated
her procedure with the water.
“I don’t understand.”
She grabbed a kitchen towel and blotted it along her face.
Caleb set the bottles next to each other on the counter. “What am I supposed to be getting from this?”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s the oxy the doctor prescribed you.” She pointed to the brown bottle. “Except it’s not. The pills in there have been replaced with acetaminophen.”
“Why would anyone do that?” He lifted it up, reading the label. “Where did they go? Did one of the kids—” His face paled.
Addison shook her head. “The other bottle came from the drawer. It’s where you got the oxy the night of the accident.”
“You know I don’t take that stuff.” His voice grew demanding. “I’m telling you, I don’t know why the police think I took it. I didn’t, and I would think my own wife would believe me.”
“Don’t you dare turn this on me.” Her jaw throbbed with tension. “You are the one with missing hours, positive drug tests, and a manslaughter charge.”
Caleb slammed his fist down on the counter. “I don’t use oxy.”
Addison shook her head and leveled her gaze at her husband. “But your mother does.”
Caleb took three steps back and collapsed into a kitchen chair. His fingers formed a tent against his mouth.
“Lilly told me Caroline gave you some pills from this bottle the night of the accident. You took them with you.”
“Oh no. But that’s not acetaminophen.” He ducked his head and covered it with his arms.
“You need to face it. Your mom has a problem.” Addison touched his shoulder. “It’s been a hard year. She misses your dad, but she’s not one to talk about her grief. Maybe this is how she’s dealing with the loss.”
“I hear you.” He sat up and pulled her into his arms. “But I just can’t believe Mom could be an addict.”
“Either way, you need to take this to your attorney.”
“It would humiliate her. And how does this bring Georgianna Bosch back to life?” He rubbed at the base of his neck.
“It doesn’t, but it might keep you with your family.”
“I doubt it.” He shook his head. “I need time to think. Just give me some time, okay?” Caleb limped from the room.
Time was one of the many things they no longer had.
THE CELL PHONE was cold in Emilia’s hand. “Maria, I need to talk with Tally. Could you bring her to the hospital?” She tapped her fingers along the bedside table. Roger was waking more frequently, though the doctor was keeping him on morphine to reduce the pain of his headaches. She’d decided to go forward with the surgery, but first Tally needed a chance to see him for what could be the last time.
“Hey, sis. Yes, I’m doing well. Thanks for asking.” Maria’s words smacked as if she had a mouth full of gum.
“Knock it off. Roger’s situation is serious. I need Tally here.” She turned away from her husband and walked into the hallway. “He’s going into surgery soon. There’s a twenty-percent chance he won’t make it through.”
There was a momentary silence, then “I’m sorry to hear that. Roger was always decent to me.”
“Could you put Tally on the line, please?” Her pride had sent her to her sister for help instead of asking one of the neighbors or any of their old friends. If pride went before a fall, Maria was like diving off the edge of the Grand Canyon.
“She’s not actually here.”
“Okay. Where is she?” Emilia rested her head on the wall. Behind her, the nurses’ station beeped and hummed with constant monitoring and movement.
“I’m not sure exactly. She went to a friend’s house.”
“What friend?” The answer had better not be Cami. If Tally missed seeing Roger for the last time because of Maria, that would be the last straw.
“I don’t remember. It’s not like she’s a baby. The mom picked her up this morning. She said she’d bring her back this afternoon.”
Emilia glanced at her watch. Lunchtime. She should eat, but that could wait until after Roger was in surgery.
“The friend’s a new kid she met at soccer camp. See, I was paying attention. And the mother drives a green minivan with one of those ridiculous stick-figure family bumper stickers.”
Alarm shot through Emilia’s system. “How many children?”
“What?”
“I said, how many children? How many on the bumper sticker?” Emilia caught a warning glare from one of the nurses, so she stepped a few paces closer to the elevator.
“I think it was three, and the dad had a basketball. Do you want me to remember the license plate too?” Maria huffed. “I’m your sister, not your babysitter or one of your work buddies. Tally went to a friend’s house. What’s the big deal?”
Emilia ground her molars together and punched the down button for the elevator. “You want to know what the big deal is? That car belongs to the wife of a guy I arrested for vehicular manslaughter. You let Tally go to his house! And I have to leave my husband, who may have only a few more hours to live, in order to get my daughter and bring her back to say good-bye!” She pulled the phone away from her ear and tapped the end icon so hard, the tip of her finger ached.
How was it possible for any human being to be so thoughtless?
The elevator door slid open. Emilia stepped inside to wordless eighties tunes and gripped the railing as if it were the only thing that could possibly keep her safe. When the elevator finally hit the bottom floor, a bell dinged and she was released.
Emilia called Tally as she jogged to the parking lot, found her car, and hopped in. Her call went to voice mail. The sun had heated the seats to scorching, and her thighs felt the burn even through her denim jeans. She flipped on the air conditioner to full blast, a tiny stream in comparison to any other car made after 1975, and took off toward the farm where she’d recently arrested Caleb Kilbourn.
How would this family treat her daughter when they found out who she was? Or did they already know? Were they using Tally to get Emilia to back off? A new friend who wasn’t a troublemaker—why was that too much to ask for?
Pavement turned into gravel, and dust billowed out behind the little Honda, but Emilia didn’t slow down, even as the road became deeply rutted. She held tightly with both hands, willing the car to stay steady on the road.
In a split second, she spotted a boy on a bicycle and slammed on her brakes. The sedan skidded sideways, turning as the gravel carried the locked-up tires. When she came to a stop, the air was dense with dust. Emilia’s heart pounded. Had she hit him?
She popped open the door, waving her hand in front of her face until the air cleared enough to see the bicycle riding away from her. She’d missed him. By some power, the grace of God maybe, she’d missed hitting the kid.
Emilia’s heart pounded, and her head swam. She could have killed someone’s son because she wasn’t paying attention. She could have been one of the people she sought to condemn.
And it only took a second.
Tears welled in her eyes. This was all too much. Didn’t everyone have a breaking point? What if she was hitting hers?
Tally would need someone who had it together. But Emilia was no longer sure she could be that person. A tear ran down her cheek. She wiped it away. “Why, God? Haven’t we been through enough? Don’t take Roger now.”
She climbed back into the car, her nose running and tears flowing as fast as a river. She pressed her palms into her eyes, forcing herself to gain control. The boy on the bike was fine. He had gone on like nothing had even happened. She couldn’t let this get to her, but it was. She could have killed him.
Emilia’s arms ached. She turned the car around and continued toward the house at the end of a long lane, the one she’d been to in the name of justice. She pulled up the collar of her T-shirt and wiped her face with rough motions, then turned off the engine.
The scent of jasmine filled the air, and a light breeze filtered through the leaves on the
willow tree in front of the house. There was a peace she hadn’t noticed before and didn’t expect to find at a defendant’s residence, like life kept going, and everything that happened here didn’t revolve around Georgianna Bosch’s death. There should be a shroud over the farm, a darkness that hovered like a low cloud, but the sky was clear and birds sang in the trees.
Emilia took the three steps to the front porch and knocked on the door. Her confidence suffered a hit without her uniform, leaving her with the nerves of a middle schooler as she waited for Addison Kilbourn to answer.
Time ticked by. Time Emilia didn’t have to waste.
She knocked again, this time louder.
The door creaked open. “Sorry. It takes me a while to get across the house.” Caleb Kilbourn raked his hand through his hair. He smiled at her until the realization of who she was hit him.
She watched the man’s friendly expression grow serious and distant. Cold washed over her skin.
“How can I help you?” The smile had melted into a deep frown. The greeting was surely meant to acknowledge the person on the other side of the door more than to display his actual feelings.
“My daughter.” Those tears she’d been fighting chose an awful time to return. Emilia blinked hard, avoiding eye contact. “She’s here with your daughter. I need to pick her up.”
“Tally is your daughter?”
She nodded, looking over her shoulder as if there was something there that demanded her attention. “Could you get her, please? I’m in a hurry.” She tapped her foot on the wood decking.
“She’s not here. My wife took the girls to pick up school supplies on the way to take Tally home. She thought it might help you out.”
Emilia swung around. “I don’t need your help. Nothing your wife does for my daughter will change your legal situation. Do you understand?”
He held up his hands. “I didn’t even know she was your kid until I answered the door. Honest.”
How could she believe him? This was the man who’d told her over and over again that he did not and had not used prescription drugs, yet two blood tests showed a very different story. She tried Tally’s cell again, but it went right to voice mail. Probably a dead battery. Emilia jogged down the steps. “Can you get ahold of your wife and have her drop Tally at the hospital? It’s important.”
More Than We Remember Page 22
