Unworthy Heart: The Donnellys, Book 1

by Dorothy F. Shaw

  “How the hell am I supposed to get any sleep when they won’t leave me alone?” She coughed. “Do you see the crap they brought me to eat?” Joanie pushed at the contents on the plate with her fork. “Damn eggs are a runny mess. And what’s this?” She picked up the small container with a straw sticking out. “Apple juice?”

  Maiya smiled, listening to her mother’s complaints. For the first time ever they were a welcome sound. After a quick shower, she dressed in the last fresh set of clothes in her bag. She’d have to run home today and get more. Grab her laptop too. May as well get some work done while her mom got better.

  “Well, don’t you look spiffy. How come your man went home?”

  She arranged her items in her bag. “He’s not my man, Mom. And there’s nothing wrong with looking nice on a daily basis.”

  “Who’s the one in denial now, hmm?”

  “I’m going to run home and get a few new changes of clothes and my computer. Do you want me to bring you anything special?” Maiya held up a hand, cutting off any wrong requests. “And no, don’t say gin or cigarettes. That’s not happening.”

  “Farthest thing from my mind. So there!” Joanie stuck out her tongue. “You ignored what I said though.” Her mother lowered the angle of the bed a bit. “You love the guy and you’re gonna fuck it up if you don’t start acting like it and treat him better.”

  Maiya looked at her mother, and let out an exasperated sigh.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Who’m I to tell you, right? All my attempts at love failed. But Ryan’s different. Don’t be stupid, Emmie.”

  “God forbid I choose not to fall all over him and profess my love, just so he can reject me and break my heart. If that makes me stupid then so be it.” Shouldering her overnight bag, Maiya started for the door.

  “He loves you, Emmie. And you’re too stubborn to see it!” Joanie’s voice echoed in the room and then she broke into a coughing frenzy.

  The cough got Maiya’s attention. She dropped the bag. “Easy now, Mommy.” Running into the bathroom, she grabbed a towel, dampened it and went to her mother’s side. “I can hear you, no need to yell.” She wiped her mother’s brow and face with the cool rag and then raised the bed higher.

  Joanie closed her eyes and nodded. Although the coughing slowed, it still persisted. With each breath, the wheeze and rattle of her mother’s fluid-filled lungs made themselves known. She sounded horrible.

  “Try to rest, okay? I won’t be long.” She kissed her mother’s brow and left the room.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Maiya made the drive to her house consumed by the words her mother had thrown at her. Ryan most certainly did not love her, and even if she loved him—not saying she did of course—Maiya wasn’t going to tell him.

  She couldn’t ever tell him. It was ridiculous to think it’d do her any good. And so what if he wanted to date her? Fine. They could date and have fun, and fuck, and whatever else, but as far as her feelings went, they were staying locked inside her mind and heart. Where they were safe.

  Stopping by her mother’s trailer first, she grabbed Joanie’s favorite afghan and house robe. Both stunk like cigarette smoke, so when Maiya got to her house, she threw them in to be washed and dried. She took another shower, changed her clothes and packed a bag for the week. Grabbing some snacks her mother liked, she loaded everything, including her laptop, into the car.

  Maiya walked through the house again, looking around, convinced she was maybe forgetting something. Quit stalling. The knowledge of what awaited her at the hospital had a knot forming in her stomach, and she clutched her arms around herself. Giving herself a kick in the ass, she left and headed back to the hospital.

  When Maiya entered the hospital room, her mother was asleep, an oxygen mask in place of the tubing. They must have given her another treatment. She settled in the chair and opened her laptop.

  “Good afternoon, Miss. Rossini. Do you have a moment?” Dr. Guzman said.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and a chill spread down her spine. “Of course.” Standing, Maiya followed the doctor into the hall.

  “I’m sorry to report your mother’s liver is barely functioning.” He glanced at the chart in his hands. “The pneumonia has worsened too. We’re using a full oxygen mask rather than the nasal cannula.” He closed the chart and looked back at her. “In addition to the medication to control the toxins building in her blood, we’ve sedated her to help keep her comfortable. I’m sorry but there’s nothing more we can do for her.”

  “What about putting her on a ventilator?”

  “That’s an option, however because her liver is so bad it may only prolong the inevitable.”

  Maiya crossed her arms. “So, you’re saying just let her die?”

  “Miss Rossini, her body isn’t recovering as we’d hoped and the pneumonia has only complicated things further.”

  “That wasn’t an answer.” She glared.

  “Her vital signs are decreasing. She may not make it through the night even with breathing support. I’m sorry.”

  Avoiding the doctor’s eyes, Maiya leaned against the wall. His words burst the hope her mind had been holding on to. Maybe it was denial. Regardless, she’d shoved the fear of losing her mother far from her mind. And now, she wasn’t ready to face it.

  “I’ll check back in a few hours. Would you like the hospital chaplain to visit?”

  His question halted her attempts to ignore what was happening. My mother is dying and she needs her last rites given. Tears filled her eyes and she nodded.

  “I’ll have the nurses put in a call. Again, I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Wiping the wetness from her cheeks, she walked back into the room. She gathered the afghan she’d brought and draped it over her mother’s still form, and then sat in the plastic chair next to the bed.

  Taking her mother’s limp hand in her own she studied the too-thin skin and short nails. Riddled with dark patches, her skin looked bruised. Once upon a time, she’d had beautiful hands. Long, straight fingers and nails. As a child, Maiya had perched by her mother’s side while she painted them to perfection.

  “Tomorrow I’ll bring some pretty pink polish and paint your nails for you. You’d like that, right?” she asked without expecting a response. “If things get really dull, I’ll do your toes too, though those puppies might need a professional.” Maiya chuckled and smoothed her hand up her mother’s arm, noticing how frail she felt beneath her touch.

  “I brought some of your favorite cookies. And those crackers you love so much. When you wake up you can have some.” Standing, she kissed her mother’s forehead and then paced the room.

  Fear burned the back of her throat and sweat gathered on her palms. Maiya would be alone. After everything she and her mother had been through, this couldn’t be how it all ended. Nothing had gotten better, the way Maiya always hoped it would, between them.

  A while later, a tall, white-haired man entered the room, wearing the standard Catholic priest uniform: Black pants, black shirt, little white collar and a Bible in hand. “Miss Rossini?” He motioned toward her mother. “May I?”

  Maiya nodded and he approached the bed, love and compassion evident in his gray eyes. “She’s dying.” Cringing, she bit her tongue to stop herself from saying more.

  “I understand. I’ll send her home to our Father with a cleansed soul.”

  Maiya walked to the farthest corner in the room. Her mother was sedated, so she couldn’t make confession and he couldn’t give her Communion, but she wouldn’t listen. She didn’t want to hear the words he’d say.

  She tried to think back to the last time they’d gone to church. Was it when Jeremy died? Her mother was Catholic and had baptized them both, and made sure they made their First Communion, but aside from that, they didn’t go to church. Religion wasn’t something they practiced in their home
. How ironic the woman who’d cursed God several times during drunken fits was now being absolved of her sins and given the sacrament to pass on to eternal life within God’s kingdom.

  My mother is dying. My mother is dying. Reality hit Maiya in the face like a freight train. Oh, God. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she moved to the foot of the bed. These were the final things a person clung to after everything was said and done; the little quiet moments. Moments to be cherished, once the pain faded.

  “May the Lord Jesus Christ protect you and lead you to eternal life.” The priest made the sign of the cross over her mother and Maiya blessed herself. When he finished, he faced her. “Would you like Communion?”

  She rubbed her arms. “No thank you, Father.”

  “Very well. God bless you.” He gave her a warm, calming smile and left the room.

  In the end, everyone was granted a second chance, even people like her mother.

  Maiya stayed at the foot of the bed for what felt like an eternity. Memories, good and bad, of her childhood ran around her mind. She tried to focus on the good ones. The happy times when she and Jeremy were little and her mother was home more.

  “Where’ve you been?”

  “Here with you.” Maiya touched her mother’s foot through the blankets. “How’re you feeling, Mommy?”

  “I couldn’t find you, and Jeremy said you’d run off again.” Her voice was muffled beneath the plastic oxygen mask.

  “I—what did you say?” Maiya moved to the side of the bed.

  Her mother sucked in a rattled breath and moaned. “I’m sorry, Emmie.”

  Maiya stroked her cheek. “What for?”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” Joanie coughed. “I blamed you, and it wasn’t your fault.”

  “Mommy, don’t.” Maiya wiped the tears trickling from the corners of her mother’s eyes and her own began to fall.

  “Jeremy told me I needed to let you know.” Her mother sucked in another strangled breath. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I should’ve been there to take care of you.”

  With her own tears dripping down her face, Maiya stroked her mother’s forehead and listened to an apology for the blame Joanie had laid on her for Jeremy’s death. Maiya never expected, or felt, she deserved one. “You’re going to make it harder to breathe if you don’t stop crying.”

  Her mother nodded. Another rattled wheeze and then another cough. The sound made Maiya’s stomach fold over on itself and bile rose in her throat. Her mother sounded like she was drowning in her own phlegm. After wiping under her eyes, she pushed the nurse call button. They needed to suction her mother and give her another breathing treatment.

  Her mother grabbed her by the arm, a panicked look on her face. “Listen to me, Emmie. Don’t push Ryan away. You understand? Don’t give up something good because of all the bad in your past.”

  “Shh, it’s okay. All right, Mommy.” Maiya stroked her cheek, trying to calm her down.

  “Promise me.” Rattled breaths sawed in and out of her mouth behind the mask. “Promise me, Maiya Anne Rossini.”

  “I… Mommy, please. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Holy shit, Maiya needed to calm her down.

  Her mother dug her fingers in and squeezed Maiya’s arm with a strength she shouldn’t have been able to possess, and then raised her head off the pillow, pinning Maiya with a glare so fierce it raised goose bumps on her skin. “Promise me!”

  Why is she doing this? Damn her for doing this! “Fine, Mommy. I promise.”

  “Good. I love you, Emmie. Jeremy says he loves you too.” Joanie released a long, rattling sigh.

  “I love y—”

  One of the machines in the room started a high-pitched beeping. Maiya looked over at it and then back to her mother. Her head had fallen back on the pillow and her eyes were closed. Her face looked peaceful, almost younger than she had in years. “Mom?” Maiya shook her mother’s shoulder. “Mommy, can you hear me?”

  All hell broke loose. Two nurses came running in, followed by Dr. Guzman and one other doctor Maiya didn’t recognize.

  “What’s happening?” Maiya’s voice barely split the noise level in the room. Someone pulled her away from the bed and walked her to the far wall. Everything went from bad to worse and only bits and pieces of what they were saying registered in her ears.

  “She’s in cardiac arrest,” Dr. Guzman said.

  “Bag her now!”

  Dr. Guzman lowered the bed. “Begin chest compressions.”

  “Get ready to intubate,” the other doctor said.

  Maiya stood with her back glued to the wall, watching the horrific scene play out in front of her. This looked nothing like it did on TV.

  “Get the crash cart in here and clear the room.”

  One of the nurses approached her. Her lips were moving, but Maiya wasn’t registering anything coming out of her mouth. Maiya looked over the woman’s shoulder at her mom.

  Taking Maiya’s arm, the nurse tried to lead her to the door. “Miss Rossini, please step out of the room.”

  She’d heard her that time, but couldn’t take her eyes off her mother. And her legs wouldn’t cooperate. Then everything went from high-speed chaos to slow motion. The bed was reclined all the way; her mother’s head tilted back at a severe angle while they shoved a tube down her throat. Her chest was bare and a man was pushing on it, and it caved in and out with each thrust of his hands.

  Maiya cringed, closing her eyes.

  None of their efforts mattered though. She knew it. It was just a matter of time before the doctors and nurses knew it too. Pulling her arm free from the nurse’s grip, Maiya grabbed her purse and left the room.

  Her mother was already gone.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Maiya sat downstairs on the same bench she’d occupied many times in the last four days. Her mother was dead. She didn’t need the doctors or nurses to confirm it—she knew it at a bone deep level.

  And she felt…nothing.

  Lighting a cigarette, she played the last several minutes over in her mind. Her mother had mentioned Jeremy, not once, but twice. She couldn’t have seen or spoken to her dead brother, but who was Maiya to question such a thing.

  What she said though, had been hard to hear and even harder to accept. “I blamed you and it wasn’t your fault. Jeremy told me I needed to let you know. I’m sorry, baby girl. I should’ve been there to take care of you.” Blowing out a breath, Maiya tried to wrap her mind around each word. For the first time since she could ever remember, her mother, Joanie Lynn Rossini, had admitted her wrongs and apologized.

  Maiya checked her cell and found two missed calls and several text messages from Ryan. Shutting it off, she put it in her purse and went back upstairs. She couldn’t talk to him right now.

  Dr. Guzman stopped her in the hall. “I’m sorry, Miss Rossini. We did all we could.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Assuming you would prefer some time alone with her, we haven’t moved her yet.”

  “Oh…um. I hadn’t—” Maiya shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts.

  “Take all the time you need. When you’re ready let the nurse know.”

  “I hadn’t expected…”

  The doctor squeezed her shoulder. “I understand. If you’d rather we—”

  “No. No, it’s fine. Thank you. I won’t be long.”

  “Take care of yourself, Miss Rossini.” He held out his hand and she shook it.

  Maiya entered the room with measured steps and approached the bed. The machines were off and the IV lines, and the tube they’d used to intubate her were gone. There was no sound, save for the pounding of Maiya’s heart in her ears.

  Her mother lay there, eyes closed and at peace. With a trembling hand, she stroked the loose strands of hair—still in the braid she’d put it in the night before—back from her
mother’s face. Her skin looked waxy, a mottled yellow and grayish blue color. The woman had led such a hard life and abused her body with reckless abandon. Too far in the abyss to ever come back out.

  Maiya traced the line of her mother’s nose down to her dry chapped lips with a shaky fingertip, and then traced her jawline. Deep sorrow and regret settled in her heart forcing a lump into her throat.

  She perched on the edge of the bed, took her mother’s lifeless hand in her own and stroked the top of it. “I love you too.” She sniffled. “You left before I had a chance to finish telling you, Mommy.” Maiya bent and kissed her hand. “And I’m sorry too.” Tears welled and dripped down her cheeks. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better daughter. I’m sorry for so many things, Mommy.” Maiya raised her mother’s cool hand and pressed it against her damp cheek. “I wanted things to be different, and I tried, but it was so hard. Always so hard between us, but I loved you. Even though I didn’t always act it, I did, Mommy. I’m sorry I didn’t act it.”

  Maiya lay her head on her mother’s lifeless chest and placed her limp hand on the back of her head, wishing she could hear her heartbeat and feel her fingers through her hair. And she cried. She cried for herself, for Jeremy and for her mother. She cried for all of them, and the life they’d all lost.

  She didn’t know how long she stayed there, but when her river of tears finally stopped flowing, she sat up, and kissed her mother’s forehead one last time.

  Gathering her things, Maiya left the room.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Ryan couldn’t get a hold of Maiya, and it was driving him out of his mind. All day, a bad feeling had been settled like a brick in his stomach and he couldn’t shake it. He’d texted several times, and called twice. Knowing he had to get up early in the morning, he finally gave up and went to sleep sometime after one in the morning.

  Somehow he managed to get up on time and get his son off to school—checking his phone six million times during the process. Finally, on the drive to the office, his phone rang. He pulled the car over. “Hi.”