Doctor's Orders (Complete Series)

by Lilian Monroe

  Then, I see him.

  If I thought he was frail before, it’s no comparison to what I see in front of me now. He hardly makes a bump in the bed’s blankets. He’s got an IV sticking into his thin arm and an oxygen tube under his nostrils. I try not to stare at his arms — I haven’t seen him in short sleeves in a long, long time. They look like bones wrapped in old, paper-thin skin. He’s got dark spots all over his skin and his thin, wiry, white hair sticks out at uneven intervals.

  I walk up slowly and he wheezes. Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I stand next to the bed. I pull up a chair and sit down next to him, putting my hand over his. I feel like a giant next to him. He’s cold, like his blood just isn’t pumping to his hands anymore. I grab the blanket and gently slip his arm under it.

  “Davey,” he croaks. “You’re here.”

  “Of course I’m here, Pop,” I say, forcing the words out of my tightening throat. His eyes flutter ever so slightly open and he moves his head toward me.

  “I’m —” he takes a breath and coughs.

  “Don't talk, Pop, you don’t need to say anything.”

  He closes his eyes and takes a few breaths. I watch his chest rise and fall, it’s almost caved in. It’s wrong, to see him like this. This is the man who raised me, the man who was strong and smart and determined.

  And now, he’s withered away. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again. He looks at me with complete clarity.

  “Davey, I’m proud of you. Take...” he wheezes. “Take care of her. She loves you.”

  I frown. “What do you mean, Pop?”

  “She loves you.” He closes his eyes again and his breath becomes shallow, as if the few words he spoke has completely sapped him of his energy. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, leaning my chin on my chest. I still have a hand on his arm, and I stroke his papery skin gently.

  I know he’s talking about Izzy. It couldn’t be anyone else. She loves you. The words echo in my brain and I try to dismiss them. It must be wishful thinking, or the ramblings of his fading mind. She doesn’t love me, how could she? We only got into this mess as a business deal.

  Why tell me that now? Why would that be the most important thing to say? Why not tell me that HE loves ME? I feel tears fill my eyes and I let them drop down my cheeks. I’m watching my grandfather die right in front of my eyes. It might not be right now, it might not be tonight, but I know it’s happening. I have to face that reality.

  I wish Izzy were here. I wish she was standing next to me and I could lean my head against her stomach and feel her fingers running along my scalp. I wish I could breathe in her scent and hear her voice in my ear.

  The tears fall freely now, leaving wet spots on the tops of my thighs as I sit next to the hospital bed. My sobs make my shoulders shake and I try to stay quiet, not wanting to disturb Pop in his final hours.

  Where’s Izzy? Whenever I open my eyes and see him, all I want is to be near her. I need her. I have no idea how it’s come to this, but I know that right now I need her like I’ve never needed anyone before.

  35

  Izzy

  We ride the subway in silence all the way to our stop and walk up the steps. The air is somber between Jess and me, and I wish it wasn’t.

  “I'm sorry the circus got ruined for you, sis,” I say as we walk to our apartment.

  Jess looks at me and smiles sadly. “It wasn’t ruined. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” She pauses for a few steps. “Is Dave’s grandpa dying?”

  A lump forms in my throat. “Yes, he’s dying.”

  “Is he in pain?”

  “I’m sure the hospital staff have given him medicine to make him as comfortable as possible,” I reply. I’m sure he’s in some sort of pain, but I don’t want to tell her that. Jess slips her hand into mine and gives it a squeeze.

  “I hope he’s not in pain,” she says. I nod. We walk in silence until we get to our building and go inside, slowly trudging up the steps to our unit.

  I sigh as I open the front door, glad to finally be home.

  My eyes scan the room and I almost fall backward when I see someone standing in my living room. Fear grips my throat like a cold hand closing my windpipe. My stomach sinks and the room starts to spin.

  “Mom?” I croak incredulously. The woman is standing in the living room, looking right at us. She looks older, sure, but it’s her. She still has that straight dark hair and high cheekbones. She was a beauty, in her time. She raises both arms toward us.

  “Darlings,” she says. I recoil backward and move in front of Jess.

  “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  She lets her arms drop and the happy mask on her face slips for a moment before she rearranges her features again.

  “I thought you’d be glad to see me,” she says with fake smile plastered over her face. I feel a shiver of disgust run down my spine. “Jessie, baby, it’s me, it’s Mom!”

  I stick my arm out protectively, blocking the woman’s access to Jess. My mother takes a step forward and I step forward defensively. My whole body has gone cold, and all I can do is laser in on the woman who abused me for years.

  “How did you get in?” I bark. I can feel Jess trembling behind me.

  “Oh, the nice man downstairs let me in,” she says casually, waving her hand. I bristle. She always was a master manipulator. Memories start creeping to the edges of my brain and I push them back down.

  “Get out.” I say, stepping aside and moving Jess behind me. I point to the open door. “Vera,” I continue, using her first name. “Get out right now.”

  She raises her eyebrow and her lip raises into a snarl. “When did you become such a little bitch? I must not have taught you to respect your elders.”

  “You taught me not to respect you. And I’ll ask you not to swear in front of Jess.” I spit my words at her, feeling my chin jut out as the hatred flows through me. The number of sleepless nights I’ve spent because of this woman, feeling the fear grip me from the inside. And now here she is, in our house, breaking in and appearing out of nowhere.

  She takes a step closer to me and I tense. My anger is making my body vibrate with tension. My vision is dark around the edges as I watch her move toward the exit.

  Before I know what’s happening, she’s lunging at me. She’s grabbed something and is swinging it at me. I try to duck but my movements are too slow. She’s got our lamp in her hand, a big ceramic monstrosity and it’s coming straight for my head. I’m moving too slowly. I know I am. It’s as if time stands still, I hear Jess start to scream my name and I watch in horror as the lamp comes closer to my head.

  When it makes contact with my temple, pain explodes through my skull. Vera grunts as she hits me and my body goes flying to the floor. I land on the side of my face with a grunt, all the breath knocked out of my lungs. Vera reaches over me and grabs Jess, dragging her over my collapsed body. I feel her little feet drag over me and I try to lift my arms up to stop her.

  “Stop, sto–” I cough and splutter as blood fills my mouth. I try to lift myself up onto my hands and knees and crumple immediately.

  The last thing I see before everything goes dark is Vera pushing Jess out the door in front of her.

  36

  Dave

  Where is she? I let the phone ring through to voicemail and then hang up before leaving a message. She said she’d be here. She said she’d come to the hospital right away. And now, I’m still here on my own, watching my grandfather die right in front of me.

  I should have known she’d let me down. She’s a Daniels, after all.

  “Fuck her!” I say under my breath as I slip my phone back into my pocket. Anger washes through me and I relish the feeling. It’s better than being sad. Not even a text. Or a phone call. So much for keeping your word.

  The very time that I needed her by my side, that I needed to know she’s here for me, she goes completely silent. I should never have relied on her. I got too comfortable and n
ow, I’m going to watch Pop pass away and I’ll be alone. Completely, utterly, fucking alone.

  Pop’s words come back to me and I snort. She doesn’t fucking love me. If she loved me, she’d be here. I look at the closed door to Pop’s room and exhale loudly. I can’t go in there, not right now. I stalk down the hallway to the elevator, not knowing where my feet will take me.

  I end up in the lobby staring at a vending machine. Nothing looks good, but I choose a chocolate bar anyway. I wander through the quiet hallways. Visiting hours are over, but in the hospice wing they let family members stay all night.

  I’m a doctor who hates hospitals. When I perform a surgery it’s at our facility and the place is buzzing with activity. People are getting surgeries to make themselves feel better, or to improve their quality of life. Here, it’s different. The entire wing of the hospital is reserved for people breathing their last breaths, and the whole place has a somber feeling to it. The sterile smells, the white hallways, the beeping machines, and nurses shuffling from room to room. It gives me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s oppressive and impossible to hide from the swirling vortex of anger and pain and sadness inside me.

  Walking slowly, I nod to a passing nurse. I haven’t said a word to anyone in hours. Pop has been sleeping, drifting in and out of consciousness. I turn down the hallway toward his room and once more pull out my phone. It’s completely blank. Anger bubbles up inside me once again and I try to swallow it down.

  Why hasn’t she called? Even a simple explanation as to where she is.

  A small voice in my head wonders if something has happened. Maybe she’s hurt? Maybe she needs help? Surely, she would have called. These past weeks have been so special, I know that this isn’t like her.

  The anger inside me quickly overwhelms my mind and I push the thought away. What could possibly have happened? And she would have called me by now either way.

  No, this is simple. I’ve been played for a fool once again. For the second time in my life, Izzy Daniels is at the center of one of the most painful times in my life.

  I curse myself. I can’t believe I let her in. I introduced her to my friends. I fucking married her. What the fuck was I thinking? How could that possibly be a good idea?

  My mistakes are plain to me now. I shouldn’t have listened to Pop when he said he wanted her to stay. I should have fired her immediately. Instead, I let her weasel her way into my grandfather’s life and into my own, and now I’ve paid her a hundred thousand dollars to abandon me in my time of need.

  Fair enough, this wasn’t part of the contract, but if the past couple weeks are anything to go by, I thought we had something. I thought she cared. Even the way she looked at me when I told her Pop was in the hospital. She was so insistent she’d be here as soon as she could. To look at me in the fucking face and lie like that is unforgivable.

  The voice in my head says it again: maybe she’s in trouble.

  I shake my head and turn to Pop’s door. She’s not in trouble, she’s just Isabelle Daniels. She can’t be trusted and I’ve been a fool to let her into my life. The best thing to do now is to forget she ever existed, get my inheritance sorted and send her on her way. If I do things properly, I can finish out our contract without even seeing her again. I look at my phone and smash the keyboard with my fingers as I text her.

  Thanks for not showing up. Got your message loud and clear. Don’t bother coming back to the house. We’re done.

  I know it’s petty and unnecessary but I can’t help pressing send. As soon as the message leaves I feel validated. My resolve strengthened, I square my shoulders and re-enter Pop’s room. I take a seat next to him on the chair and grab his hand again. My heart is thumping and it sounds deafening in the quiet room. Pop wheezes gently and I feel my heart cleave in half. I squeeze his hand and try to make the lump in my throat go away. My whole body feels like it’s cracked and broken, like it’s just barely glued together and it’ll explode into a thousand pieces any second.

  Pop’s eyes flutter open and he turns his head slowly to look at me. I think I see him smile, but his face barely moves.

  “I’m here, Pop, I’m here.”

  I’m whispering and crying and trying to keep myself together. I just keep telling him I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

  The tears are streaming down my face as I watch him take another labored breath. He exhales slowly and I see his head fall ever so slightly to the side. His eyes are still open but the light in them dims. I frown, not believing it. It’s not supposed to happen like this. My heart starts beating faster until I lean forward and look at him again.

  “No, no, Pop, not yet,” I whisper. I squeeze his hand harder. “Not yet, Pop, not now. Please.”

  My cheeks are wet and tears fall down onto my arms, my chest. I put my forehead down on his hand and let the sobs shake my whole body. I can’t do anything except sit there and cry. I haven’t cried since my parents and sister died, and then a part of me died with them. Now, here, alone in this hospital room with my grandfather I feel the same searing pain pass through me.

  I drag my head up and slowly reach up to close my grandfather’s eyes.

  “Goodbye, Pop,” I say softly. The tears are still soaking my cheeks and the pain in my chest is immense. I lean back in my chair and look at my grandfather. He’s gone.

  I’m alone now, truly alone.

  My breath catches in my throat and I feel another sob shake my body. I’m not ready for this.

  37

  Izzy

  I wake up amidst shattered ceramic. I reach up to touch my pounding head and with horror I feel blood crusted into my hair. My skull feels like it’s been cracked in half. The throbbing, pounding pain with every pulse of my heart sends daggers through my head and down my spine. I groan and try to lift myself up.

  Slowly, groaning with every movement, I move to a seated position. I grab onto the small side table beside me and lift myself up to my feet. I feel like a baby deer, my legs are shaking like I’ve never tried standing before.

  “Jess?” I croak. I try to swallow but my mouth is too dry. A little louder I call out, “Jess?”

  There’s no answer and I frown, leaning against the table. I try to remember what happened but it’s all a haze. The circus, Dave leaving. Why did he leave? His grandfather, something happened.

  And then I remember my mother’s face when I opened the door. I remember the lamp coming for my head and sight of her pushing Jess out the door. The panic rises in my throat and I try to stand up and walk toward the door, managing half a step before I trip over and collapse. My hands hit the ground first and absorb some of the impact, but I cry out in pain as my head explodes in agony.

  I lie on the floor for a few moments. My head is spinning. My mouth starts filling with saliva and all of a sudden, I know I’m going to be sick. I vomit and cough and splutter onto the ground next to me and then groan. My eyes are filled with tears. I need help. I desperately, immediately need help.

  I look around, blinking to focus my eyes. My purse — there it is. I spot it on the ground next to the front door. I start trying to get to it, half crawling and half dragging myself along the floor. Every movement sends searing pain through my head. Finally I reach it and pull it toward me. I find my phone within a few seconds and press the home button. I frown and try to focus on the screen. All I see is Dave’s name.

  Thanks for not showing up. Got your message loud and clear. Don’t bother coming back to the house. We’re done.

  I frown and read the text again, struggling to make sense of it. He’s angry with me. I still don’t know what’s going on. Jess is gone, my mother took her. Dave doesn’t want to see me. I can’t think straight and I feel the dizziness coming on again.

  Finally on the screen I press the emergency dial button and call 9-1-1. As soon as the dispatcher’s voice comes on, I feel a wave of relief.

  “9-1-1, what is your emergency?”

  “My mother has kidnapped my sister. I’m hur
t, please come.”

  “Hold on, ma’am I don’t understand. Are you in danger right now?”

  “No, just injured. My head…”

  “Don’t move. What is your address? I’m sending police and ambulance to you as soon as possible.”

  As soon as I give her my address the world goes dark once again.

  I wake up again as paramedics burst through the door. Suddenly my once-quiet apartment is a flurry of activity. I’m being moved and prodded and poked and spoken to and I can’t keep my eyes open. A plastic brace appears around my neck and I’m lifted onto a stretcher. They’re talking. One of them says my name. A policeman asks me a thousand and one questions.

  “She took Jess. She took Jess.” I repeat it over and over as the paramedics assess me. “My sister. She’s gone.”

  “What’s your sister’s name? Where did she go? Who took her?”

  Why don’t they understand? They need to find her. I take a deep breath and summon all my strength.

  “My mother left us ten years ago, just appeared today. She hit me and took Jess. She’s only eleven!” I start sobbing and the paramedic steps in front of the officer.

  “We need to take her to the hospital. You can question her once she’s stable.”

  “She’s talking about a violent kidnapping. We need to know as much as possible as soon as possible!”

  “She has a severe head wound and obvious signs of at least a concussion, if not more severe head trauma. She needs to go to the hospital now.”

  The paramedic reaches across me to strap me into the stretcher. The straps tighten across my legs and chest and he looks down at me. “I need you to stay awake for me now, okay, Isabelle? We’re going to get you some help.”

  I groan and close my eyes but his voice needles into my brain again, forcing me to open my eyes.