Unbreathed Memories (29 page)

Julie shook her head solemnly. “Daddy ate it all up.”

Scott smiled broadly at his daughter. “Bath. Go.”

“Bye!” Julie scampered down the hall.

Georgina watched her go, then turned to stand behind Scott’s chair, a damp dish towel draped over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” I could see the wheels turning. She thought something had happened to Mother.

“Why don’t you sit down, Georgina?” Paul pulled out a chair and motioned her into it.

Georgina settled into the chair and turned her face toward us, lined with worry.

“It’s what’s right,” I told her. “The police have arrested Dr. Voorhis.”

“What?” Georgina shot a panicked look at Scott. “Why?”

“He killed his daughter, Diane.”

“No!” The color drained from her face. Against the bright red and yellow flowers on the bib of her apron she looked pale. Scott reached out and gathered her hand into his.

“It’s true. He confessed. He’d sexually abused her throughout her childhood, Georgina. When she confronted him about it, he panicked, they fought … and the rest you know.”

“Then Daddy didn’t kill Diane?”

“No.”

“I was sure he’d done it.”

“Daddy didn’t kill Diane Sturges, and he didn’t hurt you.”

Georgina shook her head. “That doesn’t change what he did to me.”

I tried another tack. “Do you remember a woman named Stephanie Golden?”

Georgina nodded. “She used to come to the therapy group, but dropped out all of a sudden.”

“Do you know why?”

“No.”

“She told me she had come to believe that no matter what Diane Sturges seemed to think, she had not been sexually abused. When she mentioned this in therapy, something must have triggered a memory in Diane. Memories of abuse at the hands of her own father came washing over her. I think Diane realized then what a mistake she had made with some of her patients.”

“Mistake?” Scott held tightly to his wife’s hand.

“Georgina was never abused, Scott. Dr. Sturges just made her
think
she was.”

“That’s not true!” Georgina leapt to her feet, snatching her hand away from Scott’s. “It happened! Why doesn’t anybody believe me?”

“Georgina, you had a collection of symptoms that were similar to the doctor’s own, which when put together in her own troubled mind screamed ‘abuse.’ But, they can also be symptoms of depression, Georgina.”

Georgina pressed her back against the refrigerator door as if she were trying to merge with it, sobbing. “No, no!”

“Christ!” Scott was on his feet, too. “Can’t you leave her alone?” He tried to gather his wife into his arms, but she pushed him away.

“I want you all to go away and leave me alone.”

“Georgina, just do me one favor. Ask your new therapist about it.”

Georgina stared purposely at a blank wall, her lower lip quivering.

At that inconvenient moment, the telephone rang. We all ignored it. I thought that the answering machine had picked up until Dylan poked his head into the kitchen. “It’s Aunt Ruth,” he announced. “She wants you, Daddy.”

Scott took a long look at this wife, as if to reassure himself that she wouldn’t disappear the minute he took his eyes off her. He raised a hand, palm out, in a hold-that-thought way, indicating that we were all to stay put until he had taken care of business. He reached for the extension which was mounted on the wall next to the refrigerator. “Yes, Ruth?” His face grew so serious that he had all of our attention. “I see. When?” He looked at me and shook his head. “Hannah and Paul are here. Sit tight, Ruth. We’ll be right over.”

“It’s your mother,” he said as he hung up the phone. His slender hands gripped the back of his chair. “She’s had another heart attack. It doesn’t look good.”

Georgina’s eyes grew wide and she slid down the refrigerator door until she was sitting on the floor just as she had done that day in my kitchen. “Mommy!” she wailed. “Mommy!” I didn’t wait to hear any more. I raced out of the house with Paul on my heels.

I beat Paul to my car and had the engine running even before he folded his long legs into the passenger seat. We lost a few precious minutes turning the car around at the end of Colorado, where I used some language I bring out only on special occasions.

The light snow had turned to rain, transforming the streets into a glistening black ribbon that rolled out ahead of me. The traffic signal at Falls Road and the lights of the Texaco station merged into a kaleidoscope of colors, patterns that changed every time the wipers swept across the windshield in front of my face.

“Slow down, Hannah.”

I accelerated through the intersection and swerved right onto the entrance ramp, then left, merging easily
into traffic southbound on the JFX. “What if something happens before I get there?”

“Why don’t you pull over and let me drive?” The last time he’d used that tone Paul had been disciplining Emily.

“No. I’m fine, really.” I slowed to fifty-five and concentrated on the winding expressway, trying not to think about what life would be like without my mother. At the hospital, I screeched to a stop, wrenched my door open, and slid out, leaving Paul to deal with finding a space in the parking garage around the corner.

The revolving door spit me out into the hospital lobby, which was warm and dry. I brushed drops of water off my jacket and out of my hair and, ignoring the reception desk where I should have signed in for a visitor’s badge, I turned left and hurried past the various concessions, now closed for the night. A glass elevator took me to the coronary care unit on the third floor, where I pushed my finger impatiently on the buzzer until I could identify myself and the nurse let me in.

I was surprised when I saw Mother, because she looked just the same: a thin, pale form beneath a light blanket. The same number of tubes and wires still tethered her to a bank of machines that whirred and sighed and bleeped in the same familiar, almost comforting, way.

Daddy and Ruth had arrived and were sitting in armless chairs on either side of the bed. Ruth glanced up when I entered, but Daddy didn’t even seem to notice that I was there. My sister rose and pulled me aside. She spoke softly, her voice husky with emotion. “She’s stable now, Hannah. But her heart is too weak.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until I felt tears slide down my cheeks. “What are we going to do?”

Ruth’s fingers dug into my arm. “Daddy talked it over
with Mother. She’s signed a paper that the next time her heart stops, they won’t try to revive her.”

Something inside me died. “Oh, no!”

“It’s what I want, Hannah.” My mother’s voice was surprisingly strong. She raised an arm, then let it fall back onto the covers. “Living like this is no life.”

I rushed to her side, knocking over the chair that Ruth had been sitting in. “Oh, Mom. Please. Don’t!”

“It’s my decision, darling.”

“But you haven’t even seen your great-granddaughter! You haven’t met Chloe!”

Mother sighed, and turned her head toward my father. “She’ll get to know her great-grandfather.”

“
Please
don’t talk like that! It sounds so final.” I had faced death before, the possibility of my own. But that was easier somehow, because it would have been I who was doing the going. When I thought about a future without my mother, it tore at my heart.

Ruth stood behind me, a steadying hand on my back. “We love you so much, Mother.”

Mother’s mouth curved into a half smile and her violet eyes, shrunken within their sockets, moved from my tortured face to Ruth’s. “Tell me more about Bali, Ruth.” The subject was closed.

Ruth righted her chair and positioned herself next to the bed, while I alternately paced across the small room or stared out the window into the wet Baltimore night, consumed with self-pity. When Paul arrived after parking the car, Ruth was describing emerald hills and rice paddies, ancient Oriental temples with fat golden gods. My sister had a poet’s way with words. Paul took up a position in the corner as if acknowledging that he wasn’t an integral part of the family by blood but would be there if I needed him.

“I’m sorry you had to cut your trip short,” Mother said when Ruth paused in her story to allow a nurse to check on the equipment Mom was attached to.

“I was coming home anyway, Mom.” Ruth jerked her head in my direction. “Someone needs to keep Hannah on the straight and narrow.”

If only she knew
, I thought.

Paul spoke for the first time. “Hannah, have you told them?”

I gawped at him, like a stranded fish. How could it be that the events of the past four hours had flown so completely out of my head? Bali! What the hell did Bali have to do with anything? I had important news, and I’d nearly risked letting my mother go without telling her.

“Mom.” I approached her bed. “Dad.” I touched his hand where it rested on the covers. “They’ve arrested someone for the murder of Georgina’s therapist.”

Dad’s jaw dropped, and my mother lifted her head slightly from her pillow.

“It was her father who did it, Dr. Voorhis.”

“Dr. Voorhis?” My mother’s pale face grew even paler. “Isn’t he the children’s pediatrician?”

I nodded and sat down.

“Why on earth?”

Dad stood behind me while I talked, his fingers drumming rhythmically on the metal frame of my chair, sending vibrations skittering up my back. I told the whole story, except for the part about Dr. Voorhis’s attempt to silence me.

“They’ve taken him away,” I added. “I think he’ll have quite a headache in the morning.”

Mom’s eyes moved from my face to my father’s. “Thank God.”

“Have you told Georgina?” Ruth wanted to know.

“That’s what we were doing when you called.”

“Do you think Georgina finally realizes that those memories she had were strictly in her imagination?” Daddy sounded more hopeful that he had any right to be.

“I really don’t know. Dr. Sturges had a powerful influence on her patients. All of them. It may be tough to overcome.”

Ruth massaged her neck as if it were sore. “I thought you said that Georgina is seeing a new doctor.”

“Scott says she is. We can always hope that the new guy doesn’t see abuse lurking behind every tree.”

“You
know
I didn’t do anything to that child,” Daddy said.

“We all know that, Daddy.”

“Where’s Georgina now?” Mom’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I don’t know, Mom. I’ll see if I can find out.” If Mother died while I was trying to locate Georgina, I would never forgive my sister.

“Do you want me to come?” Paul lurched to his feet.

I shook my head. “I’m just going to make a phone call.”

“There’s a phone right here.” Daddy pointed to the telephone on a bedside table.

I wanted a little privacy, but couldn’t think of a graceful way to escape. I dialed my sister’s number.

“Hello?” It was one of the twins.

“Sean?”

I had guessed right. “Hi, Aunt Hannah.”

“Can I talk to your mommy?”

“She’s not here.”

That was a good sign. “How about your daddy?”

“Not here either. Want to talk to Mrs. Crombie?”

“Who’s Mrs. Crombie?”

“She’s the lady next door. Mommy started crying, so Daddy got Mrs. Crombie to come over. She made us popcorn.”

“That’s nice. Can I talk to Mrs. Crombie, Sean?” I held the phone away from my ear while Sean summoned the helpful neighbor with a shout so loud it made me wonder if she was watching my niece and nephews from her own home.

“You don’t need to shout, Sean. I’m right here.” Mrs. Crombie sounded upbeat and young, like one of the upwardly mobile professionals who lived on Georgina’s street. She told me that Scott and Georgina had left for the hospital forty-five minutes ago, saying that she didn’t know when to expect them home.

That was the best news I had heard all day. I wished the woman good-bye, then leaned back against the wall. I checked my watch. If they left the house forty-five minutes ago, they should be here now. Where the hell were they?

When I tuned back in, Ruth was talking about feng shui. All the beds in Bali were oriented with their heads toward some sacred mountain. Still no Georgina. Mother lay quietly, almost smiling while her machines beeped in a regular, reassuring rhythm. I talked myself into thinking that it was going to be all right.
Where there’s life there’s hope
.

My mouth was furry and dry, tasting of the garlic in the slice of pizza I’d had for lunch. “Want something to drink?”

Ruth nodded. “Tea would be nice.” Dad just shook his head and pointed to a paper cup on the bedside table.

Paul came to life. “Let me help.”

“That’d be great.” I didn’t want to be alone. Not for a single minute.

I was hungry, too, but I knew from past experience that at this hour, all the food concessions would be closed. Paul and I left the coronary care unit and went in search of the vending machines, which were tucked into an alcove farther along the hall. We bought a Coke and two teas.

When we returned I was delighted to find Scott and Georgina sitting in the waiting area just outside the door that led into the coronary care unit, holding hands. I noticed that Georgina had come away wearing her apron. A bright red corner of it peeked out where her coat fell open at her knees.

“Georgina?” Her face was red and puffy from crying, her eyelids swollen.

“Oh, Hannah!” She sprang to her feet and lunged in my direction, startling me so that I nearly dropped the Styrofoam cup I was holding. I spread my arms wide while Georgina wrapped herself around me. Paul lifted the cup from my hands, freeing me to hug Georgina properly.

“How’s Mom?” Scott directed the question to Paul over my head.

“Stable for now.”

Georgina released me and stepped back, her tear-stained face a mask of misery. “I’m so ashamed.”

I felt like saying
You ought to be
, but was so glad that my sister seemed to have come around that I didn’t dare. “She’s asking for you,” I said.

Georgina raised an eyebrow. “She is?”

“She wants to see you, Georgina.”

Georgina turned to her husband. “I don’t know what to do, Scott.”