Fall From Grace. KRISTI GOLD
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“Have you told Katherine?” Delia always insisted on calling her granddaughter by her given name, Delia’s mother’s name. She’d claimed it was much more elegant than Katie.
“Not yet.” Anne braced for the fallout, staring into her tea.
Instead of scolding, Delia said, “I’m sure you will when the time is right,” then added, “but don’t wait too long.”
Anne raised her eyes from the teacup. Her mother’s expression held no judgment, only sympathy. Delia was a master of sympathy. “I thought I would do it tomorrow.” Suddenly, Anne felt like a teenager again, explaining why she hadn’t cleaned her room.
And her mother responded in kind, like the disappointed parent, when she asked, “Why not now, Anne, while I’m here?”
“Because I don’t know what’s going to happen. If something should happen to him, then…” Anne let the words trail off, hating the thought of that something. Yet she couldn’t write off the possibility that Jack could bleed out again, and this time it could be fatal.
Now Delia looked worried. “You don’t really think—”
“I’m not sure what to think. I’m concerned.” And scared, but she didn’t need to voice that emotion. Her mother would already know.
Delia rimmed the cup with a neatly manicured nail. “I’m glad to hear you’re worried about him. Things have been so bad between you two since the separation.”
Divorce, Anne silently corrected. Her mother couldn’t bring herself to say the word. “I still care about what happens to him, Mother.” Trouble was, she still cared too much.
Anne sipped her tea for a moment, allowing its warmth to wash through her. All day she had been cold, moving through her shift in a state of shock until she’d asked to leave early. “Hank believes we should be actively involved in Jack’s recovery.”
“Of course we should. Jack has no one else.”
A rerun of the conversation she’d had with Hank. But what did she expect from her overly loyal mother? “I have my own life now. I’m not strong enough—”
“I don’t want to hear that, Elizabeth Anne. You’re stronger than you realize. And you must help Jack recover, if only for Katherine’s sake.” Her mother’s voice had risen a notch; not to shouting exactly, but pretty darned close for Delia.
Everything sounded so logical to Anne. But logic continued to evade her.
“I can help out,” Delia added. “If I need to, I can cut down on my volunteering and help you take care of Jack. We owe him that much.”
Anne’s gaze shot to Delia, who still looked calm. “Owe him? Do I, Mother? He wasn’t around when I needed him. When Katie needed him. When he finished the fellowship in California and we moved back here, he promised me he’d go into private practice. And what did he do? Sign on with the hospital as chief attending cardiothoracic surgeon, increasing his workload because of the added responsibility.”
“Yes, he has a demanding career. But accepting that is part of the sacrifice of being a doctor’s wife. You knew that when you married him.”
And still she’d chosen to ignore it, because she’d loved him that much. “I guess I just wasn’t as good at it as you were.”
Delia shifted in her chair and showed the first signs of real discomfort. “The day you served Jack with divorce papers, he came to see me.”
Anne tried to hide her shock. She wasn’t certain she wanted to hear this, but she recognized her mother would continue despite her reluctance. “And?”
“He was devastated. You blindsided him. He’d had too much to drink, so he was open about his feelings. He didn’t want the divorce, Anne.”
“Great. He never talked to me about his feelings. He never protested, never fought. He just signed on the dotted line.”
Delia leaned forward. “Did you give him the chance, Anne? Best I can recall, you refused to speak to him after you threw him out.”
“I was afraid he’d talk me out of it.” Jack had been, and would always be, Anne’s one true weakness.
“If he could do that, then you weren’t ready to divorce him.”
That brought Anne’s chin up in defiance. No one, even her mother, would tell her what was best for her. Not anymore. “Come on, Mother. He’s not the saint you make him out to be.” The same sainthood Delia had bestowed on Anne’s father, as well. Her mother had stood by her man, through countless absences and midnight calls, and she expected no less from her daughter, regardless of the consequences.
Delia sighed. “I realize he’s not a saint.”
“But you don’t know everything.”
“If you’re referring to the other woman, I know about that, too.”
Shock robbed Anne of an immediate response. She’d purposefully kept that information from her mother because it had seemed so sordid. It still did.
Before Anne could comment, Delia looked beyond her and said, “There’s my other baby girl!”
Anne glanced up from her tea to see Katie climbing into Delia’s lap. Sweet, sweet Katie, with her father’s dark pensive eyes and her grandma’s flaxen hair. The baby who had miraculously arrived after years of Anne’s trying to become pregnant.
“Whatcha doin’ here, Grandma?”
“I came to see my bestest girls,” Delia said.
Anne smiled at Katie, a shaky smile. “Did you finish your homework, sweetie?”
“Yes, ma’am. All done. Can I play my computer game now?”
Delia studied Anne over Katie’s head. Anne recognized that look, exactly what it was saying. Tell her, Anne. Now’s as good a time as any, Anne. Don’t be a coward, Anne.
Anne inched her chair a little closer. “Katie, I have something to tell you.”
After taking a drink from Delia’s cup of tea, Katie smacked her lips with satisfaction. “What?”
“Daddy’s sick.”
Katie set the cup of tea down and squirmed in Delia’s lap. “Does he have the flu? A lot kids at school have it.”
If only that were so. “No, sweetie, he’s had something they call a stroke. It’s made him pretty sick, so he’s in the hospital.”
Her daughter’s eyes widened with comprehension and fear. “His hospital?”
“Yes. He’s okay, but it’ll take a while for him to get better.”
Katie scooted out of Delia’s lap. “I want to see him.”
Anne reached for her and pulled her close. “You can’t right now. They have him in a special place where they don’t let kids in. He’s still sleeping.”
Tears welled in Katie’s eyes, crushing Anne’s heart. “Is he going to die?”
Drawing her daughter into a hug, Anne whispered, “No, honey. He’s not going to die.” If only she were as sure as she sounded.
Katie pulled back, her expression suddenly stern. “Are you glad Daddy’s sick?”
Horrified, Anne tried to hug Katie again, but the girl would have none of it. She just stared hard at Anne, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. “Oh, no, Katie. It makes me very sad.”
“You should be sad, even if you are divorced.” Katie said the last word with clarity, with the tone of a child who knew all too well the reality of single parents and bitter battles.
Delia rested a hand on Katie’s shoulder. “How about you go home with Grandma for