Karen Young - In Confidence

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll even stay awhile and watch Kendall if Nick wants to hang out with his buddies.” She paused. “I guess Ted couldn’t get away.”

It wasn’t exactly a question. “No, he’s tied up…into the evening.”

“Hmm.”

Marta never bothered to hide her disapproval of Ted. She considered him neglectful as a father and selfish as a husband. “It’s a doctor-thing,” she was fond of saying. “They’ve got too much ego and you’re so attuned to everybody else’s needs that you never stop to consider your own.”

“I don’t have any needs that go unfulfilled,” she’d disputed on the day of that conversation, “or at least none that cause me much heartburn.”

Now, recalling her words, she felt like a complete idiot. Of course she had needs, and now that she’d been slapped in the face with her husband’s infidelity, she admitted to sensing something wrong in her marriage for quite a while. Was this the prelude to divorce? Were she and Ted destined to go their separate ways? Would Nick and Kendall wind up as part of two “blended” families one day?

At a traffic light, she fought off a wave of despair. One thing she had decided during her soul-search on the way home—she wasn’t going to mention anything to the kids just yet. Before tearing their lives apart, she and Ted would have to talk, but it would not be tonight. She was too filled with conflicting emotions to face it tonight.

Her cell phone rang as the light turned green. She reached for it, glancing at the number without recognition. “Hello?”

“Is this Rachel Forrester?”

It was a man’s voice. She frowned, trying to place it. “Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Cameron Ford. Dinah gave me your number,” he said.

Cameron Ford. She was momentarily speechless. Why would he be calling her? They hadn’t spoken since that distressing confrontation in her office five years ago.

“I’m at the hospital,” he said.

“Yes?” She waited, still in the dark.

“It’s your mother.”

“My mother?” Her heart stopped. “Oh, Lord. What is it? What’s wrong?”

“She’s in the emergency room. She wanted me to let you know.”

Cameron Ford ended the call to Rachel Forrester and stood, grim-faced, in the waiting room of the ER to wait for her. It had been a helluva shock to look out his kitchen window and see his elderly neighbor lying unconscious in her azaleas. It had been another shock—and this one almost as unpleasant—to learn that she was Rachel Forrester’s mother. Dinah Hunt had moved next door a couple of months before, but he had not made any of the usual hospitable gestures that he might have done to welcome her. He was pretty much a solitary type to begin with, plus he’d been on deadline with his book and, as always, nothing and no one got much more than momentary interest until he was done. He’d noticed the woman and felt relieved that she lived alone and would probably be a quiet, unobtrusive neighbor.

Which was his excuse for not being more attentive. But what, he wondered, was Rachel’s excuse? He did not recall seeing her over there in the weeks since Dinah moved in. You’d think her daughter would have put in an appearance or two. Too busy sticking her nose into other people’s lives to put in time with her aging mother, he thought. But he’d heard real panic in her voice when he’d called just now. He’d been unable to give her any information since he hadn’t been told anything himself when he’d arrived at the hospital with Dinah, incoherent and pale as the white gardenias she prized. But at least she’d been conscious, sort of. When he’d reached her after spotting her lying at the edge of the flower beds separating their two houses, he had been pretty close to panic himself.

“Sir? Excuse me, sir.”

He turned to find a woman beckoning to him from a cubicle behind a sliding glass partition. With a last look outside, he went to her. “What’s the problem?”

“We need some insurance information on Mrs. Hunt.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you. She’s my next-door neighbor, not a relative. I happened to see her when she fainted out in the yard.”

The clerk frowned. “I need to know how to bill this, sir.”

“If you’ll wait a few minutes, you can probably get everything you need from her daughter, who should be here any minute. Dinah told me flat-out that she wasn’t staying. I had a heck of a time just getting her here.”

The clerk sniffed and shuffled forms. “You should have called 911. EMTs are trained to deal with the elderly.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” he said dryly. He glanced again at the entrance just as Rachel rushed inside looking flustered and anxious. “Here’s her daughter now.” Cameron lifted his hand, catching her eye, and she hurried over.

“Where is she? What’s wrong? Is it a heart attack?”

“They haven’t given me any information, but maybe the clerk here can tell you something. For what it’s worth, your mother regained consciousness in the car and did her best to talk me out of bringing her here. She claimed she wasn’t having chest pains, so I don’t think it’s a heart attack.”

Rachel turned quickly to the woman. “Is that right? Is she okay? Can I see her?”

“Someone will be out soon to answer your questions,” the clerk said. “Meanwhile, I need—”

“What happened?” Rachel asked Cameron. “What do you mean, she was conscious and talking? When was she unconscious?”

“When she was flat on her back in her azaleas,” he said, making no effort to be gentle. “Once I got her up and on her feet, she was dizzy and disoriented, but after a few minutes, she seemed to rally.”

Rachel was still confused. “I don’t understand. How did you…I mean, are you saying you were at her house?”

“I was on my porch. I looked over and saw her.”

“Your porch. You looked over and saw her.” Rachel put a hand to her forehead before looking at him and asking incredulously, “You…live nearby?”

“I live in the house next door.” She didn’t look any happier hearing that than he did knowing it.

“How could that be?” She was asking herself, not him. “How did I not know that?”

“Because you don’t show much interest in your mother’s affairs?” It was a cheap shot, but Rachel Forrester had that effect on him. He had nothing against her mother, but he didn’t owe Rachel anything. Just the opposite, in fact. His feelings for her hadn’t changed since that day they had talked in her office after Jack’s funeral, five years ago. Seeing her now was like taking the lid off a pot that still simmered with bitterness.

“Did you call the EMTs?” she asked, ignoring his remark.

“I drove her. She wouldn’t let me call the EMTs.”

“I—thank you.” Rachel pressed the fingers of both hands hard against her lips. “Maybe it’s a stroke,” she whispered. “But the last time I was over there—”

“Yeah, when was that, Rachel?” he asked, fixing her with a hard look. “I see the neighbors dropping by, I see the postman chatting her up, I see the guy delivering her prescriptions from the pharmacy, but I don’t see much of you.”

He could see he had her attention now. She stared at him. “I do not neglect my mother,” she said stiffly.

“Yeah, well, you could have fooled me.”

“Dinah Hunt. Someone for Dinah Hunt?” Both turned as a young resident appeared and stood looking over the occupants in the waiting room.

“Here,” Rachel said, moving toward him. “I’m Rachel Forrester. Dinah Hunt is my mother. How is she?”

“I’m Dr. Carruthers.” He smiled at both Rachel and Cameron, who’d followed her. “Your mom’s just fine. In fact, she’ll probably be out here demanding to be taken home before I finish talking. She told me in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t about to spend a night in a hospital bed.”