Sweet Tea Tuesdays

by Ashley Farley

  Lizbet and Phillip stepped aside to make way for the doctor. Lula noticed Lizbet eyeing Trevor Pratt as he prepared to stitch up her wound. All was not lost. At least one of her daughters liked men.

  Lula closed her eyes and listened to Phillip and Lizbet chat with the young doctor while he worked. Originally from Columbia, South Carolina, he told them he received his undergraduate degree from UVA and attended medical school at the University of Pennsylvania. He was in his third year of residency at MUSC. He loved Charleston and hoped to be hired full-time. When Phillip grew silent, Lizbet and Trevor struck up a conversation about the local social hangouts for their age group.

  He had just tied off his last stitch when Dr. Hanson returned. The plastic surgeon wished Lula well and excused himself. She turned on Dr. Hanson. “Where on earth have you been? It’s too early for lunch. I trust you have the results from my CT scan.”

  “Your wife doesn’t like me very much,” Hanson said as he shook Phillip’s hand. “Although I don’t know why. I assure you I have the utmost concern for her health.”

  “Don’t be offended, Doctor. She’s not her best self today,” Phillip said in a low voice, but Lula heard him anyway.

  Hanson moved past Phillip to Lula’s side. “I agree that it’s too early for lunch, Mrs. Horne. But I’m guilty of sneaking a cup of coffee while I studied your scan results. I have good news and bad. The good news is, we can rule out a stroke, and there is no evidence of trauma to your spinal cord.”

  Lula pointed at the neck brace. “Then, for the love of God, take this damn thing off my neck before you tell me the bad news.”

  Dr. Hanson called in a nurse, and together they removed the brace. He waited for the nurse to leave before delivering the bad news. “The CT scan shows a large mass on your brain, a tumor, which is most likely responsible for your falls and recent fatigue.” He paused, giving them a chance to absorb this information.

  A tumor? She had cancer growing in her brain? No wonder she’d been feeling so poorly lately. Her heart began to race, and she broke out in a cold sweat. She felt dizzy, as though she might faint again or be sick to her stomach. She refused to look at her husband and daughter. How could she face their fears when she couldn’t face her own?

  “Okay.” Lula sucked up her bottom lip as she inhaled a deep breath. “How do we get rid of this tumor?”

  “I’m sorry to say that is beyond my level of expertise. I’m turning your case over to the neurologist on staff. She should be in to see you shortly.”

  “What is this neurologist’s name?” Phillip asked. “We don’t want a resident. We want someone with experience.”

  “Dr. Erica Walton. And yes, she’s a resident. This is a teaching hospital, Mr. Horne. But don’t worry, she’s merely the gatekeeper. She’ll refer you to the right neurologist to handle your case.”

  Lula gripped the bed railing. “I don’t want any old neurologist, Doctor. I want you to get Lang Murdaugh on the phone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Lizbet

  Lizbet slipped out of her mother’s cubicle and scurried down the hall. She removed her cell phone from her pocket and texted her sister: “Get over here now. The doctor says Mom has a brain tumor.”

  Brooke texted right back: “We’re on the way.”

  She slumped against the nearest wall. How could her mother possibly have a brain tumor? There must be some mistake. She was only in her midfifties. She was too young to die. None of Lizbet’s friends had lost their parents yet. With the exception of Dean Nelson and Meghan Reyes of course. But their mothers had both died from breast cancer. Lula didn’t have cancer. Or did she? The doctor didn’t say. Did he even know?

  Lizbet wished she could take back all the horrible thoughts she’d had about her mother in recent weeks. Only moments ago, when Lula accused Sawyer of making Brooke gay, as if any person could make another person gay, Lizbet had thought of her mother as a small-minded bigot. Even though she hadn’t called her mother that to her face, or to anyone else for that matter, she’d still thought it, and that weighed heavily on her conscience.

  Last week her mother was planning a party and creating beautiful bouquets of flowers. And this week she was diagnosed with a brain tumor. What exactly would her treatment entail? Surgery and chemo if the tumor proved cancerous? Lizbet had taken for granted that her mother would always be there for her, that Lula would help her plan her wedding and babysit for her children. What if she never met her first grandchild? What if she didn’t live to see next Christmas?

  Lizbet was staring at her phone, at the photograph of Lula she’d taken on Mother’s Day, when Trevor Pratt approached her. “I don’t mean to pry, but you look sad. Did you receive some bad news?” He patted his shoulder. “I have a strong one if you need to cry on it. Believe me, you won’t be the first. Working in the emergency room is often gloomy business.”

  She smiled despite herself. The young doctor had an easy way about him. “I imagine it is.” Avoiding his gaze, she stared down at the floor. “Dr. Hanson says my mother has a brain tumor.”

  Trevor leaned against the wall beside her. “Oh gosh. That really is bad news. If it’s any consolation, the doctors in the Neurology Department are the best.”

  “Do you know Lang Murdaugh? He’s our next-door neighbor. My sister and I call him Dr. Dog. We’ve known him all our lives. I don’t know anything about his reputation except that, according to his wife, he works a lot.”

  “Dr. Dog,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll have to remember that. And yes, I know him. He’s one of the best. It always helps to have connections.” He gestured at the phone in her hand. “Can I give you my number in case you need anything? I’m here all the time, if I can help you in any way.”

  She handed him her phone. “That’d be great.”

  He sent a text to himself and handed back her phone. “Now I have your number, and you have mine. I’ll check on you in a day or so to see how things are going. In the meantime don’t hesitate to call me, even if only for directions to the cafeteria.” His smile reached his slate-blue eyes.

  She smiled back at him. “Thank you, Dr. Pratt.”

  “Please call me Trevor. I’m not much older than you.”

  She nodded. “Trevor it is, then.”

  She watched him walk down the hall, admiring the way his scrubs outlined his broad shoulders. She forced herself to look away. What was wrong with her? Her mother just received devastating news, and she was lusting after her hot young doctor?

  Down the hall in the opposite direction, she saw her father emerge from her mother’s cubicle and hurried toward him. “How is she?”

  “Scared to death. Lang is finishing up with his rounds. He should be here soon.”

  “Dad, I better warn you that Brooke and Sawyer are on the way. I asked them to come. They have a right to be here.”

  Phillip took her by the elbow and led her out of earshot of Lula’s cubicle. “Your mother won’t like that very much. And truthfully, considering the tension between them, I’m not sure I want them here, either.”

  Lizbet’s phone vibrated in her hand. “Too bad. They’re already here. I’m going to find them and bring them back. They can stay out in the hall if Mom doesn’t want to see them.”

  By the time she returned from the waiting room with Brooke and Sawyer, Dr. Dog had arrived and was speaking to her father in hushed tones near the nurse’s desk.

  “I didn’t get a chance to say hello to you girls last night,” Dr. Dog said when he noticed Brooke and Lizbet hovering with Sawyer nearby.

  Brooke introduced Sawyer as her friend from California. “She’s starting in the residency program here at MUSC in the fall.”

  “Good for you. And welcome to Charleston. I’m sorry we’re meeting under such stressful circumstances.” He swept his arm in the direction of an empty room across the hall. “Why don’t we go in here where we can speak in private.” He waited at the door while the rest of them filed into the room. “I haven’t been in
to see Lula yet,” he said, closing the door behind him. “I wanted to speak candidly with you first.” He sat down at the desk and accessed images of her mother’s brain on a large computer screen. “If you’ll gather around behind me, I’ll explain what we’re seeing here.”

  He used his pen to outline the large mass on Lula’s brain. “I won’t know until I do the biopsy, but I’m almost certain it’s cancer. Normally I wouldn’t say that to a family until I’m absolutely sure, but since we’re friends . . . Well, I would hope you’d do the same for me. And I’ll be honest with you, I regret to say that because of the placement of the tumor, surgically removing it may not be possible.”

  For the next few minutes, he explained the various possible scenarios and addressed the what-ifs as they asked them. Most of which came from Sawyer. And most were too technical for Lizbet to understand. She was grateful to have Sawyer on team Horne. Her training would come in handy as they faced whatever lay ahead.

  Dr. Dog turned off the computer monitor and pushed back from the desk. “Let’s take this one step at a time,” he said, standing. “I’ve scheduled an MRI for this afternoon and the biopsy for first thing in the morning. I’d like to admit Lula to the hospital for observation overnight. She can go home after the biopsy tomorrow if she’s feeling okay.” He moved toward the door. “I’d like to go in and see her now. You can tell her whatever you want, but I advise you to stick to the facts.”

  “I’ll let you do the talking, Lang,” Phillip said as he followed Dr. Dog out the door, leaving the Horne sisters and Sawyer staring at their backs.

  Brooke leaned in close to Sawyer. “Translate that for me, please, in a language I can understand. Give it to me straight. I need to know what we’re dealing with.”

  Sawyer turned to Lizbet. “What about you, Lizbet? Do you want to know the truth?”

  No! She wanted to scream. She wanted to run the few blocks to their house, to the home she’d grown up in, and crawl under the bed, hiding from the truth. She wanted to bury her face in her mother’s apron like she’d done as a child when someone hurt her feelings or something scared her. But the tables had turned, and she was now the adult forced to take care of the parent who had become the one in need. “Not really, but we need to be strong for Mom and Dad’s sake. To do that we need to be realistic about her situation.”

  “This is hard, I know.” Sawyer’s lips parted in a sympathetic smile. No doubt she’d passed her bedside manner course with flying colors. “I think you should prepare for the worst and hope for the best. If the tumor proves inoperable, your mother’s choices may be limited. You may be looking at palliative care, which means you remove the symptoms of the disease as much as you can to provide a better quality of life for whatever time she has left.”

  “You mean she might die?” Lizbet had already considered the possibility, but the words sounded foreign as they passed through her lips.

  When Sawyer hesitated, Brooke nudged her. “We want the truth.”

  Sawyer hung her head. “Unfortunately, there’s a very good chance she’s going to die.”

  A wave of nausea overcame Lizbet, and she fled the room. She raced down the hall to the bathroom, where she emptied the meager contents from her belly into the toilet. This couldn’t be happening. Surely there was some mistake. Her mother had worn herself out planning the party. And Brooke’s drama had added to her stress. She just needed some rest. A night in the hospital would be good for her. In the morning, her brain would be clear, and she could go home. Lizbet would take Sawyer’s advice. She would hope for the best, but a gnawing feeling in her empty gut warned her that the worst was what she would get.

  Sawyer and Brooke were waiting for her outside the bathroom. Brooke draped her arm around Lizbet’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, Lizzy. Are you okay?”

  Lizbet shrugged. “I have to be for Mom’s sake.”

  Brooke squeezed her tight. “But you don’t have to bear the burden alone. I’m here for you.”

  Sawyer tugged on Brooke’s elbow. “I’m gonna take off now and head back to the hotel. You need some time alone with your family.”

  “No!” Brooke and Lizbet said in unison.

  “Don’t go,” Lizbet added. “We need you here.” In a few short hours, she’d already begun to think of Sawyer as a sister.

  “Actually, why don’t I go with you?” Brooke dropped her arm from Lizbet’s shoulders. “There’s no point in me hanging around here. Mom doesn’t want to see me, and I don’t want to upset her.”

  “Gee thanks,” Lizbet said. “So much for me not bearing the burden alone.”

  “No, listen. Here’s what we’ll do.” Brooke looped her arm through Lizbet’s and led her toward the waiting room. “Sawyer and I will drive out to the beach house and close the place up. Mom and Dad won’t be going back anytime soon. We’ll pack up their clothes and the leftovers from the party. I’ll drive Dad’s car back for him so he’ll have it when he needs it. We’ll feed Pooh and have supper waiting for the two of you when you get home.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Lizbet mumbled.

  Brooke spun her around and hugged her full-on. “I have a lot of making up to do to you for all the years I’ve been gone. I promise I won’t abandon you again. You are not alone.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Georgia

  Hungover from the Fourth of July festivities, locals and vacationers moved in slow motion in downtown Charleston on Wednesday. Of the few who found their way into Tasty Provisions, most were window-shoppers stepping inside in search of relief from the heat.

  The catering staff had the morning off, leaving Georgia alone in the shop. She packed away the red, white, and blue decorations, and then dusted, rearranged, and restocked the displays and shelves.

  “I’ve been working at my computer all morning, and I’m still not caught up,” Heidi said when she came down from her upstairs office around noon. She surveyed Georgia’s handiwork. “Wow! Would you look at this place. Georgia, you are a whiz at everything you do. Thank you again, by the way, for pitching in last night. We would never have made it without you.” She handed her a wad of cash. “A bonus for your efforts.”

  Georgia pocketed the money. “Thank you. I was happy to help out.”

  Heidi went to the commercial refrigerator, jotted a list on the pad in her hand, and then took the list to Annie in the kitchen. “It’s so quiet in here,” she said when she returned. “I guess everyone is sleeping off the holiday. Now might be a good time for us to talk.”

  Georgia looked up from tallying the sales receipts. “Is something wrong?”

  “On the contrary. Business is booming. The events we catered over the weekend resulted in a large number of requests for consultations. Everyone is planning ahead, which is a good thing. But we’ll be slammed from September through the holidays.”

  “How wonderful for you!”

  “You mean, how wonderful for us! You’re a vital part of this team, Georgia. We have time to get organized, but we’ll need to make some changes. Annie has been accepted at the culinary institute. She’ll be leaving us in September.”

  Heidi’s daughter emerged from the kitchen, her arms loaded with take-out casseroles. “Are you bragging about me again, Mom?”

  Heidi and Georgia both laughed. “Bragging is a mother’s privilege. I hear congratulations are in order.” Georgia came from behind the counter and rewarded her with a hug. She felt the sharp angles of Annie’s bones beneath her clothing. The girl worked hard and hardly ever ate. She found Annie intriguing. Wise beyond her years, she was the most creative seventeen-year-old she’d ever met. “I’m excited for your opportunity, but for all our sakes, I hope you’re planning to come back.”

  Annie smiled. “If you’d asked me a month ago, I would’ve told you I’m never coming back. But I’ve grown to love Charleston, and I want to be a part of my mom’s success.”

  “Of our success,” Heidi said. “You’re an important part of this business. In fact, the business
didn’t start taking off until you joined the staff.”

  “She gives me too much credit.” Annie cast a loving glance at her mother. Georgia had heard rumors of a troubled past between the two, but they seemed in a good place now. “Seriously, though, I’d like to work with a master chef for a few years and gain some experience before coming back. But we’ll see where I am when the program is over.”

  Heidi removed the casseroles from her daughter’s arms and stacked them on the empty shelves in the cooler. “I’ll support her whichever way she decides. Did you know Lizbet is thinking about applying to CIA? What will I do if they both leave me? I’ll be losing my right- and my left-hand gals.”

  “But you’ll still have Georgia,” Annie said with a wink in her direction before disappearing through the kitchen door.

  Heidi returned to the counter. “She’s right, you know. I’ve grown attached to you. I hope you’re happy here.”

  “I haven’t been this happy in years.”

  “Good! Because as the business grows, so will your responsibilities and consequently your salary. After we go to market next week, I’d like to turn all the merchandising for the store over to you. You have great flair, Georgia. I know I can count on you to bring in unique items at affordable prices. You’ll be your own boss. And you have my blessing if you want to go to markets other than Atlanta.”

  Georgia’s mind buzzed with ideas for items she’d like to carry. “I’ll have to investigate the best markets for our type of goods.”

  “Once Annie leaves, I’ll need to be more hands-on in the kitchen. I’d like to pull you into the event-planning side of the business as well. The proposals and scheduling are becoming unwieldy. I simply don’t have time to do it all. I may be getting ahead of myself, though. You might not be interested in going full-time.”

  Excitement stirred within Georgia for the first time in years. “I’m definitely interested, Heidi. And thanks for the vote of confidence. But I’m not sure I’m qualified. I know plenty about planning a party from the hostess side, but the catering side intimidates me.”