Chapter 10 - The Night He Almost Lost Her
The emergency room doors closed between Isaac and his mother at 5:41 p.m.
By 5:42, he was already trying to control everything.
“Who is the attending physician?”
The nurse gave him a practiced look.
“The doctor will speak with you.”
“Her specialist is Dr. Feldman. Call him.”
“He's already been notified.”
“I want—”
Megan caught his arm.
“Isaac.”
He turned.
She shook her head.
“You can't run this room.”
“I can make sure they have everything.”
“They do.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Ruth gave them her medication list. Her specialist is coming. They know her history.”
“I need to do something.”
There it was.
Need.
Not want.
Need.
If he stopped moving, fear would catch him.
Megan’s voice softened.
“Then sit with Lily.”
Isaac looked across the waiting room.
His daughter was curled against Helen.
Her face was buried in her great-aunt’s sweater.
She looked tiny.
Isaac sat beside her.
Lily climbed immediately into his lap.
“Is Grandma going to die?”
He could have lied.
The old instinct rose automatically.
Reassure.
Protect.
Remove fear.
Then he remembered every secret that had poisoned his family.
“I don't know.”
Lily began crying.
He held her.
“I’m scared too.”
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“Daddies aren't scared.”
“This one is.”
She looked at him.
Then hugged him harder.
Two hours passed.
Dr. Feldman arrived.
Catherine had suffered a serious cardiac episode complicated by her already fragile health.
They had stabilized her.
She was alive.
But the doctor did not soften the rest.
“She is very weak.”
Isaac sat across from him.
“What can we do?”
“We continue treatment.”
“And?”
“And we recognize that her reserves are limited.”
“How limited?”
“I can't give you a timetable.”
Isaac hated that answer.
“Days?”
“Possibly not.”
“Weeks?”
“I don't know.”
“Months?”
“Mr. Mercer.”
Isaac looked away.
The doctor continued gently.
“Your mother has been ill for some time. Recovery is possible, but returning to her previous baseline may not be.”
Isaac’s hands tightened.
“Was this caused by the activity?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“The school? Garden? Walking?”
“No.”
“Then what caused it?”
“Her underlying illness and cardiac stress.”
Megan was standing near the door.
Isaac looked at her.
She met his eyes.
No victory.
No I told you so.
Only sadness.
He suddenly remembered how he had blamed her after Catherine’s previous fall.
Shame spread through him.
“When can I see her?”
“Soon.”
Catherine regained full consciousness after midnight.
Isaac sat beside her bed.
Machines beeped softly.
She opened one eye.
“You look terrible.”
He laughed and cried at the same time.
“So do you.”
“Rude.”
“Where do you think I learned it?”
She smiled weakly.
“Lily?”
“Sleeping in the family room with Megan and Helen.”
“Good.”
“Mom.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
His voice broke.
“You scared me.”
She reached for his hand.
“I scared myself.”
He bowed his head.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then Catherine whispered, “How many things left?”
He looked up.
“What?”
“The list.”
“You're in a hospital.”
“I can see that.”
“Forget the list.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“How many?”
Isaac tried to remember.
See the lake.
Call Helen—done, though not formally crossed off.
Plant something—done.
Pie—done.
Sunrise—done.
Watch Lily perform—done.
Tell Isaac the truth—partly done.
There were smaller items lower on the page they had not discussed.
Dance with Isaac.
Make Sunday dinner.
Wear the red dress again.
Tell Megan thank you.
He swallowed.
“Five.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“I've been productive.”
Isaac laughed helplessly.
“You are impossible.”
“Family trait.”
She closed her eyes.
For a moment he panicked.
Then she squeezed his hand.
“Isaac.”
“Yes?”
“Take me home.”
“When the doctors release you.”
“No.”
He stiffened.
“I mean when they say I can safely leave.”
“They will.”
“And if they don’t?”
She opened her eyes.
“Then we have a harder conversation.”
“No.”
“You don't know the question.”
“I know enough.”
“Isaac.”
“I am not taking you home against medical advice.”
“Fine.”
Her voice was weak but stubborn.
“But if they tell you treatment here might give me a little more time while making that time miserable, I want a vote.”
He stared.
“You always get a vote.”
“Do I?”
The question hurt.
“I’m learning.”
“I know.”
Catherine smiled.
“That’s why I’m asking now.”
He nodded.
“You get a vote.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Pinky promise?”
He laughed softly.
“You’re spending too much time with Lily.”
Catherine lifted one frail finger.
Isaac hooked his pinky around it.
“Promise.”
At 2 a.m., he found Megan alone near the vending machines.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I can’t.”
“Neither can I.”
He leaned against the wall.
“I blamed you before.”
“I know.”
“The doctor said none of this was caused by what you were doing.”
“I know.”
“I'm sorry.”
Megan looked at him.
“You already apologized.”
“Not enough.”
“Isaac.”
“I almost fired you because I was terrified.”
“You almost fire people a lot when you're terrified.”
He laughed.
“Apparently.”
She looked tired.
Flour was gone from her hair.
There was no apron.
Just Megan.
For the first time, he saw how much of her life had been pulled into his family’s crisis.
“You should go home.”
Her face changed.
“I mean rest.”
“Oh.”
“You thought I was firing you.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Then Isaac said, “Why did you stay?”
“With Catherine?”
“With all of us.”
Megan looked toward the family room.
“Because I care.”
“That's dangerous.”
“So is not caring.”
He stared at her.
“I don't know what happens next.”
“No one does.”
“I hate that.”
“I know.”
He laughed softly.
“You know everything?”
“No. But your control issues are not subtle.”
He took a breath.
Then something in him gave way.
“I can't lose another person.”
Megan’s teasing vanished.
“Anna?”
He nodded.
“I wasn't there.”
She waited.
“When my wife died, I was in London.”
“Isaac.”
“She called me that morning.”
His throat tightened.
“She asked me to come home early because Lily had a fever and she was exhausted.”
Megan said nothing.
“I told her I had a dinner with investors.”
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
“Oh, God.”
“She drove to the pharmacy.”
Megan covered her mouth.
“I spent three years telling myself that if I had come home, she wouldn't have been driving.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He looked at her.
“I understand it logically.”
“That isn’t the same.”
“No.”
He stared at the floor.
“So I work.”
“Why?”
“Because if I stop, I remember.”
Megan’s eyes filled.
“And when Catherine got sick?”
“I made it another project.”
Something broke in his voice.
“I thought if I arranged enough, paid enough, controlled enough...”
“She’d stay.”
“Yes.”
Megan stepped closer.
She did not hug him.
She simply put her hand in his.
The same gesture he had watched her give Catherine.
Connection without control.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Isaac tightened his fingers around hers.
At dawn, Helen approached them.
“She's asking for Isaac.”
He returned to Catherine’s room.
His mother held an envelope.
“What is that?”
“My discharge wish.”
“You are not being discharged.”
“Eventually.”
She handed it to him.
On the front she had written:
WHEN YOU START TRYING TO CONTROL EVERYTHING AGAIN.
Isaac almost smiled.
“That's going to require a lot of envelopes.”
“Open it later.”
“What is it?”
“A reminder.”
He placed it in his jacket.
Catherine looked toward the window.
“I want the lake.”
“We’ll go when you’re strong enough.”
“No.”
He knew that tone.
“Mom.”
“If I get strong enough, wonderful.”
“And if you don’t?”
She turned to him.
“Then take me weak.”
And Isaac realized the next item on the list might not be waiting for recovery.
May you like
It might be waiting for courage.
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