Need You Now

by Beth Wiseman

  “Sounds like it.”

  And this time, for sure, Dr. Brooks rolled her eyes.

  Grace pointed her finger at her. “Can you do that? I mean, roll your eyes like that at a patient?”

  “Does that make you mad?” Dr. Brooks raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s unprofessional.”

  “Well, I’m rolling my eyes because you are lying to me, and I’m tired of it. Do you think that you come in here and fool me every week, Grace? I’ve been letting you get away with it lately, but this is unproductive, and I want to help you. No one can have as perfect a life as you claim to have.”

  “Maybe I don’t need your help!”

  “Maybe you do.” Dr. Brooks’s voice was softer now, which only made Grace feel like she might cry, and she couldn’t do that. “Talk to me, Gracie.”

  “Don’t call me Gracie.” Her parents called her Gracie when she was younger, and now only when they were upset. She recalled her mother calling her Gracie when she found her that day. She pressed her lips tight, blinked her eyes.

  “Okay. Grace. Please talk to me.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Grace knew she was practically yelling as she threw her hands in the air.

  “Talk to me about things that worry you.”

  Grace didn’t like the mean Dr. Brooks, but she liked this Dr. Brooks even less, the one who really seemed to care about her. That in itself was a lie. She shook her head, clamped her mouth shut. “Why do you pretend like you care? This is just a paycheck for you. You’ll go home to your happy little life at the end of the day, and . . . do whatever you do.”

  Dr. Brooks sighed. “I’m not going to talk about my life with you, Grace. That’s not what your parents are paying me for. But I assure you, it’s far from perfect. And sometimes I get really mad.” She paused, sighed. “What upsets you, makes you mad?”

  Grace was trembling. She’d done a fair job—so she’d thought—of keeping Dr. Brooks a safe distance away. But she was getting really mad at this woman. “What upsets me is this questioning.”

  Dr. Brooks grunted and almost looked like she was grinning. Then she rolled those eyes again.

  “Stop doing that!” Grace slapped a hand to her knee.

  “What?”

  “Rolling your eyes. You’re not allowed to do that!” Grace threw her hands up in the air. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work!”

  “What won’t work, Grace?”

  “You’re intentionally trying to make me mad because you think I’ll just spill and tell you everything that is bothering me!”

  “So there are things bothering you?”

  Grace slammed her foot on the floor. “No! That’s not what I said!” Then she clenched her hands together so tight they hurt, and she closed her eyes.

  “Tell me, Grace. Tell me about your life.”

  “I’m upset about stuff! I’m really upset!” Her eyes filled with water, and she wasn’t sure she could do this. Her hands were trembling, her heart racing. She was losing control.

  Dr. Brooks sat calmly in her chair. “Can you tell me about it?”

  Grace pulled her eyes away from Dr. Brooks as she started to cry, then she turned back to her and yelled, “My brother wants to date my best friend, and I don’t want him to! Something is wrong with my parents, and I don’t know what it is! I miss having a boyfriend! And I go to bed crying every single night with a razor blade in my hand because I want to cut so bad I can’t stand it!” Grace bent at the waist and sobbed. “There, are you happy?”

  She heard Dr. Brooks get up, and she felt a hand on her head. “Yes, Grace. I am.” Dr. Brooks sat down on the floor in front of her and gently raised Grace’s chin until their eyes met. Warm tears rolled down Grace’s cheeks. “That is what you are supposed to do, honey. It’s okay to get mad. It’s okay to feel things. It is how you react to things that we are trying to deal with. And you should not have to go to bed every night with these feelings. We are going to get through this. Together.”

  Grace couldn’t believe it when Dr. Brooks put her arms around her and squeezed her tight. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Grace eased away. “Why? I lost my cool. I screamed. And now I’m crying like a big baby.” She was thankful that no one else was here to see this.

  “Exactly. And that is what most people do to release their anger and frustrations. You might not see it, but we’ve just had a big breakthrough.” Dr. Brooks folded her legs underneath her on the floor in front of Grace. She didn’t seem as intimidating sitting down there. “Let’s start with your parents . . .”

  Grace slid out of the chair and onto the floor. She crossed her legs beneath her too and faced Dr. Brooks. Part of her wanted to talk, and part didn’t. It took a few moments before she finally took a chance. “My parents are acting weird. I don’t know how to explain it, but something is wrong.”

  She spent the next hour telling Dr. Brooks about all her worries, her fears, and her strong desires to cut.

  By the end of the session, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time, unless she’d been cutting. Relief.

  Darlene sat in Dr. Brooks’s office after Grace’s session and was thrilled to hear that Dr. Brooks felt like they’d made a breakthrough. But it upset her to tears that Grace was worried about her and Brad’s relationship and that it was one of the issues that caused her pain and anxiety.

  “I asked Grace to wait outside so we could talk, and I can tell you’re very upset about what I’ve told you. Are you sure you don’t want to schedule an appointment for you and Brad?”

  Darlene shook her head. “No. But I don’t want Grace worrying about us.”

  “I’m not going to minimize Grace’s worries, but right now we are dealing with ways to help Grace deal with these issues. I felt like today was a starting point. She’s admitted that she is worried about things, and she talked openly for the first time instead of pretending that everything in her life is perfect. I told you we had been making progress, and we were. But I felt sure Grace still had the urge to cut, and I needed to hear her say it. She needed to say it, so we can move forward and make sure she doesn’t.”

  “I feel . . . so . . . ” Darlene was so tired of crying, and every time she thought there were no more tears to spill, another one found its way down her cheek.

  “I know you feel responsible, Darlene, but don’t blame yourself. It sounds like you and your husband may have some things to work on. As for Grace, just be honest with her. As honest as you can be, even if it’s a simple phrase like, ‘Yes, Dad and I are going through some things, but we love each other very much,’ or . . .”

  Darlene didn’t hear the rest of what Dr. Brooks said. Her focus shifted to whether or not Brad did still love her. She loved him with her heart and soul, and if she could take back the kiss with Dave, she’d do it in a heartbeat, no matter what Brad had done. The guilt was gnawing at her.

  She eventually thanked Dr. Brooks, then focused on being as cheerful as she could with Grace on the way home, trying to put her daughter’s mind at ease, even if her own was not.

  “Grace, please don’t worry about me and your dad. We’ve been married a long time, and sometimes married people just go through things. We’ll get past it.” She turned to Grace and smiled. “I’m just glad that you and Dr. Brooks had a good session. And, Grace . . . I love you very much.”

  “I love you too, Mom.”

  Darlene was entering Round Top when Grace asked Darlene to drop her off at Skylar’s house.

  “Tell Skylar to let me know if she or her father need anything.” Darlene didn’t know how much she had to give these days—she felt drained in every way—but she wanted to keep things in perspective. She knew Skylar and her father struggled.

  “I will, Mom. I’ll catch a ride home with Skylar later.”

  Darlene nodded as she pulled into Skylar’s driveway. “Chad’s here,” she said, noticing his truck in the driveway.

  “Yeah.” Grace turned to Darlene before s
he opened the car door. “I think they’re going to start dating.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “I don’t like it.” Grace grimaced but then smiled nervously. “But you know what? I’m going to go tell them both why I don’t like it, and maybe it won’t turn out to be such a bad thing.” She shrugged. “Who knows, maybe Skylar will be my sister-in-law someday.”

  Darlene smiled. “Maybe so. See you tonight.”

  As she headed toward home, she thought about the past few days. Every time she’d tried to talk to Brad, one of the kids was around, or it was just a bad time. At least that was what she was telling herself most of the time. Truth was, she was just scared to death. When she finally confronted Brad, her entire life could change, and that thought terrified her. She’d heard what Layla had said, and she was praying. Not the kind of heartfelt prayers she’d said in the past, but it seemed God was listening because Dr. Brooks had said Grace was doing better.

  If only Darlene—or Dr. Brooks—could magically fix everything between her and Brad. But Brad wasn’t open to counseling, and Darlene didn’t think she could mend things on her own. She tried to talk to God, ask Him for help, but shame rushed over her and choked her prayers. She knew what she’d done was wrong. How could she ask God to forgive her when she couldn’t forgive herself?

  She turned onto her street, exhausted and wanting to just crawl into bed, maybe stay there for days. But she had dinner to fix—and the anxiety of trying to find a good time to talk to Brad when the kids weren’t around. She suspected there would be yelling, and she didn’t want her children to overhear. She slowed down and pulled to the side of the gravel road to make room for two police cars whizzing by, something you rarely saw in Round Top, and never on her road. As she eased ahead, she had to move the car over again as an ambulance sped by, then a fire truck. Her heart started pounding. Is something wrong at my house?

  She punched the gas so hard her tires spun. Her car sped down the road, a cloud of gravel dust in her wake, but she didn’t stop at her house. All the activity was up ahead on the right. Including television crews.

  All in front of Layla’s house.

  Chapter Twenty

  Darlene pulled into Layla’s driveway as far as she could, but too many vehicles blocked her way. She had to park behind two television vans near the gate. Outside her car, she hurried down the cobblestones and pushed her way through a media frenzy until she saw paramedics down in the pasture. Her heart pounded as she tried to move in that direction. A sheriff grabbed her arm.

  “Ma’am, you can’t go out there.”

  Darlene shook loose of his hold. “What’s wrong? Is that Layla? Is she hurt?”

  The tall man about her age pushed back his sheriff’s hat. “Are you family?”

  “No, but . . . I’m her . . . I’m her best friend. Please tell me what’s going on. Please.” Darlene was trembling as she glanced toward the pasture again.

  “Evidently she fell off of her horse, but I need you to stay back. Got too many people out there as it is. We’ll let you know something soon.”

  “Has someone notified her husband? Well, I mean, he’s her ex-husband, but he needs to know.” Darlene wiped the sweat dripping from her forehead.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll try to find out.”

  As the sheriff walked away, Darlene heard a rumbling in the distance. The helicopter wasn’t in view yet, but she guessed it was for transporting Layla to the hospital. It wouldn’t be long before it landed. Darlene’s heart was racing. She nonchalantly weaved her way through the crowd, some of whom were Fayette County police officers trying to keep the media back. Layla won’t like all this.

  As soon as she found an opening, she darted past everyone and ran as fast as her short legs would carry her, weeds whipping against her bare calves as she tried to stay in her flip-flops on the uneven pasture. Six people surrounded Layla, and as Darlene came within a few feet of her friend, she could tell that Layla’s eyes were closed. No, no, no. Please, God . . . please.

  “Please step back. You shouldn’t be out here,” someone behind her said. A big, round woman carrying some sort of machine scurried past Darlene. Once she’d delivered the device to the two paramedics squatting beside Layla, she came back to Darlene. “Are you family?”

  This time Darlene said, “Yes. I am her family.” It was true, and the woman put a hand on her arm before easing her back a bit.

  “She appears to be bleeding internally, and she has a large wound on the back of her head.” The woman looked up when the helicopter neared. “They’re taking her to Brackenridge Hospital in Austin.”

  Darlene tried not to panic. She knew they took the most serious injuries to Brackenridge as a precaution. It didn’t mean it was life-threatening. She also knew that she wouldn’t be able to ride with Layla in the helicopter.

  “How—how bad is it? I mean . . .” Darlene took a deep breath as she glanced at Layla again. Layla’s eyes were still closed, and there were no visible signs of injury.

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. But if you want to go ahead and drive to Brackenridge, you won’t be there too long after the helicopter lands.” Layla nodded, and the paramedic hurried back to her side.

  Darlene knew the woman was right, even though she didn’t want to leave Layla. “Okay,” she said softly.

  She watched them hooking Layla up to tubes and wrapping her head in a large bandage. The lady paramedic returned as the blare of helicopter blades grew louder.

  “The helicopter is about to land, and the media is going to be all over that. I’d go ahead and get on the road. If you go now, you might beat the reporters that will be en route.”

  Darlene knew she should take the woman’s advice, so she clambered across the pasture toward Layla’s house. She wondered what Layla might need from home, and she was concerned about who would tend to her animals. Will Layla be all right?

  Since everyone was farther down the cobblestone drive near the pasture, she made it to the front door without interruption. Once inside the house, she quickly went through Layla’s bathroom, grabbing a toothbrush and a few other items, then putting them in a travel bag she found in a drawer. On her way out, she picked up a picture of Layla, Tom, and Marissa that sat on the hutch and stuffed it in the bag. After locating Layla’s purse and keys, she locked the door on her way out.

  She waited until she was on the main highway before she called Brad. He said he would leave right away for home so that both of them weren’t so far from the kids.

  “Baby, everything is going to be okay.” Brad’s voice was assuring, and even though there were issues hanging between them, the sound of his words, the soft-spoken way he talked to her when she was upset, gave her comfort. Right now, she just wanted to be with Layla.

  Two hours later, she was at Brackenridge, but she hadn’t beaten the media there. Television crews were parked outside, and Darlene was sure they were there about Layla. When she finally found the ICU unit, they told her she couldn’t go in unless she was an immediate family member. In desperation, she lied, “I’m her sister.”

  A nurse escorted her back, but once they reached ICU Room 3, she asked Darlene to wait outside while she checked to see if Darlene could go in. A minute later, the woman returned and told Darlene that she couldn’t go in just yet. She pointed to a nearby chair and asked Darlene to wait. Darlene did as she was instructed, and she could hear muffled voices behind the door a few yards away.

  Almost an hour later, the doctors finally came out, pulling masks off and peeling gloves from their hands. Darlene walked quickly toward them.

  “Is she okay?”

  An older doctor with gray hair and gold-rimmed glasses locked eyes with her, and Darlene’s heart flipped in her chest.

  “I’m her sister,” Darlene lied for the second time.

  The doctor sighed. “Your sister has a broken leg, several cracked ribs, and some internal bleeding.”

  Darlene relaxed. That didn’t sound too bad. But
then the doctor’s expression shifted, his eyes narrowing.

  “She’s suffered a bad head injury, and we’ll be taking her to surgery within the hour.” He paused. “She’s in a coma right now.”

  Darlene blinked back tears. “Will she come out of the coma after the surgery?”

  “We don’t know.” He stepped closer, and the wrinkles between his eyes and on his forehead deepened. His expression reminded her of the vet’s on the day he’d told her that Buddy wasn’t going to live. Darlene’s heart raced faster. “Her injuries are severe. I would let the rest of your family know, and—and if there is a member of the hospital clergy you would like to call before surgery, there should be someone on staff from several denominations.”

  Darlene went weak in the knees, but she nodded. “A chapel? Where is the chapel?”

  The doctor offered a faint smile. “Right off the lobby near the entrance.” He touched Darlene’s arm. “That’s really all you can do right now. Pray.”

  Darlene cried the entire way to the lobby, and she was glad to see that the chapel was empty. She had lots to say to God.

  Brad got home as soon as he could, but the kids were already there. When he walked in the front door, all three of his children met him.

  Ansley wrapped her arms around Brad’s waist, sniffling. “Is Layla okay?”

  “I don’t know anything, sweetheart.” Brad kissed the top of her head before easing her away. He tossed his briefcase on the couch, then glanced at the TV, which was on extra loud.

  “It was on the evening news earlier.” Chad pointed the remote at the television and turned it up even more. “Maybe they’ll give an update soon.” He turned to Brad. “Dad, they said Layla wasn’t expected to live.” Chad’s eyes watered up. “Is that true?”

  “I don’t know, son.” Brad sat down on the couch. “Turn that down some, Chad.” His head was splitting, and his heart hurt. For Layla, and for his wife. He knew how close the two women had become, and if anything happened to Layla, they’d all be devastated, but especially Darlene.

  They were all quiet for a few minutes as the weatherman predicted some much-needed rain. When it appeared that they weren’t going to say anything else about Layla, Brad asked Chad to turn the TV off for now. Then he asked his son to go to Layla’s to check on the animals.