Chapter 5 — What They Could Still Take

My mother’s facility called while I was buying coffee from a hospital vending machine.

“Nora, I’m sorry to bother you.”

The administrator’s careful tone made me put the cup down.

“What happened?”

“We received notice that the outside funding arrangement has been suspended.”

I looked through the glass doors toward Adrian’s room.

“When?”

“This morning.”

“Is my mother all right?”

“She’s fine. She’s at breakfast.”

“Are you telling me to move her?”

“No. I’m asking you to come in so we can discuss a plan.”

I thanked her.

Then I called Julian.

He answered on the fourth ring.

“Has the hospital decided you were right yet?”

“You stopped my mother’s payment.”

“I withdrew from an arrangement you no longer wish to honor.”

“She didn’t make an arrangement with you.”

“You did.”

I held the phone so tightly my wrist hurt.

“Send me everything in writing.”

“Nora—”

“Every document. Every payment. Every condition you think I agreed to.”

“You’re getting expensive advice.”

“I’m getting advice you don’t control.”

He hung up.

A message followed less than a minute later.

My access to the estate had been suspended. Staff were instructed not to discuss private family matters with me.

My Honda was still there.

So were the clothes I’d left in the east wing.

I sat on the bench outside the vending area and opened my banking app.

The balance was eighty-three dollars and twelve cents.

For a moment, I couldn’t make the numbers mean anything.

I had walked out of the estate as though refusing Julian had freed me.

He still knew exactly where to put his hand around my life.

I called Miriam.

She listened, then said, “Send me the messages. Don’t agree to anything new.”

“My mother needs more than a lawyer’s letter.”

“I know. What can you arrange today?”

That question helped.

Today.

Not the rest of my life.

I called Hawthorn House again and asked for the earliest meeting. Then I called my old manager at Lakeside Grill.

“Can I pick up shifts?”

“I thought you got married.”

“I did.”

A pause.

“How’s that going?”

“Badly.”

He sighed.

“I’ve got Saturday lunch and Sunday breakfast.”

“I’ll take both.”

“You can’t disappear on me again, Nora.”

“I won’t.”

I wrote the shifts on the back of my coffee receipt.

Then I went to Adrian’s room.

He was awake, though his eyes closed between sentences. A clinician had placed a board beside him so he could communicate when speech became too tiring.

He looked at the receipt in my hand.

“What?”

“Work.”

His gaze sharpened.

“You work?”

“At a restaurant.”

He seemed to gather himself before speaking.

“Julian?”

I sat down.

“He stopped paying for my mother’s care.”

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

His hand lifted an inch from the blanket, then fell.

“Phone.”

“No.”

His eyes met mine.

“I’m not saying you can’t help,” I said. “I’m saying you can barely stay awake through a conversation. You don’t have to solve this before you’ve had breakfast.”

He stared at me.

Then, unexpectedly, his mouth curved.

“Bossy.”

“You married a former nurse. Apparently nobody warned you.”

The smile disappeared.

“Didn’t.”

I looked down.

“No,” I said. “You didn’t choose that.”

He watched me long enough that I had to look back.

“Neither… did you.”

I nodded.

For a few seconds, neither of us tried to make it easier.

Then I told him about the meeting at Hawthorn House.

“I’ll work out what they can offer. Miriam is dealing with Julian’s paperwork.”

“Ask… Miriam.”

“For what?”

He moved his hand toward the communication board.

I steadied it while he indicated the letters slowly.

M Y.

Then another word.

M O N E Y.

I swallowed.

“We don’t know what access you have right now.”

His expression said he knew that.

“And I don’t want another agreement that depends on being useful to a Voss.”

He held my gaze.

“Then… none.”

“No agreement?”

A faint shake of his head.

I wanted to believe generosity could be that simple.

I had to learn how to accept it without handing over the rest of myself.

“We’ll let Miriam work out what’s possible,” I said. “After I speak to the facility.”

He accepted that.

When I stood, he caught the edge of my sleeve.

“Come back.”

“I will.”

“Not… for money.”

I looked at him.

His face was pale. His voice almost gone.

He was still making the effort.

“I know.”

At Hawthorn House, the administrator spread several pages across her desk.

“We can put a short-term payment plan in place,” she said. “Our social worker can also help review assistance options and alternative funding.”

“How short?”

“We’ll start with thirty days and reassess.”

Thirty days.

Enough to breathe. Not enough to become careless.

I gave her what I could pay immediately and asked for every requirement in writing.

Then I visited my mother.

She was watching a cooking show.

“Where’s your ring?” she asked.

I looked at my bare hand.

Julian had provided a ring for Adrian.

Nobody had provided one for me.

“I don’t have one.”

My mother frowned.

“That’s a shame.”

“Yes,” I said.

She patted the chair beside her.

“Sit down. This woman’s burning her onions.”

For half an hour, I watched television with her.

I didn’t tell her about the hospital or the money. She would have worried while I was there and forgotten why after I left.

There were better uses for a good afternoon.

When I returned to the hospital, Briggs was waiting with my car keys.

“Your vehicle is in the visitor lot.”

“How did you get it out?”

“I drove it.”

“Julian said staff couldn’t help me.”

“I’m taking some leave.”

I studied his face.

“How much leave?”

He looked toward the windows.

“I haven’t decided.”

My belongings were in the trunk. He had brought the wedding dress too, folded inside a dry-cleaning bag.

“I didn’t know whether you wanted it.”

“I don’t know either.”

He nodded as though that made sense.

I thanked him, then booked one night at a motel close enough to walk to the hospital if my car finally gave up.

Forty-nine dollars.

The room smelled of old detergent, and the bathroom door didn’t latch.

It had a bed.

I sat on it and called my mother’s facility to confirm the plan one more time.

Then my phone rang.

An unfamiliar number.

I nearly let it go.

“Nora?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Tess Morgan. We worked nights together at Mercy Ridge.”

I went still.

Tess had testified during the hospital review.

Not against me exactly.

She had said she hadn’t seen anything unusual.

“What do you want?”

“I heard about Adrian Voss. Someone sent me a photograph from the hospital entrance.”

I said nothing.

“Harlan was in it.”

“Get to the point, Tess.”

Her breath caught.

“There was something I didn’t tell them about Martin Shaw.”

I stood up.

“Why are you calling now?”

“Because I thought losing your license was the worst thing they could do to you.”

She paused.

“And now you’re back in a room with him.”