Someone Like You (18 page)

“Listen, I know this is costing you a fortune,” she said, ever the thrifty Yankee, “so I’d better tell you that Joely isn’t here.”

Silence.

“William? Are you there?”

“I am.” A shorter pause this time. “Will she be back soon?”

“She went down to the beach for a walk. Annabelle’s asleep, but if you’d like me to wake her—”

“No, no. Let her sleep. I’m sure she had a big day.”

Cat told him quickly about Trixie and the baby alpaca, and he laughed. “She’s a wonderful child, William. You must be very proud.”

“I can take some credit for genetics, but the rest belongs to Joely. She’s brilliant with Annabelle.”

Brilliant with her
. Warning bells went off. He had sounded warm and engaged when he inquired after Mimi’s health, but the moment the conversation shifted to Joely, he became politely guarded and distant.

Cat had to dig her fingernails into the palm of her hand to keep from asking something she shouldn’t. They exchanged a few more meaningless pleasantries, and then he rang off to catch his plane.

“Damn,” she said as she hung up. She had forgotten to ask him where he was flying off to and where he would be staying when he got there.

Then again, maybe William Bishop had chosen not to volunteer the information.

Joely had presented the Bishop-Doyle household as a family unit, a tightly knit trinity of souls who were in it together for the long haul. She didn’t get that sense from William. She wasn’t sure if she was mistaking a natural reserve for lack of interest, but the conversation left her feeling unsettled and vaguely sad for all of them, but especially for Annabelle.

Women made mistakes all the time in the name of love, and they lived to tell the tale. Broken hearts mended and were stronger for the experience. It was part of life.

But a little girl’s heart was more fragile. When a little girl’s heart broke, it broke into a thousand pieces, and no matter how hard you tried to make it whole again, you were destined to fail. Their hearts just weren’t made that way.

She hoped her sister remembered that.

 

“WHY DO WE have to see a social worker?” Joely asked as she and Cat waited for the elevator to take them down to the hospital basement the next morning. “We’re not asking for public assistance for Mimi.”

“It’s the way things are done these days.” Cat’s voice vibrated with tension.

“I don’t see why we have to sit there with some stranger and answer personal questions about our family.”

“Neither do I,” Cat said, “but sometimes you have to pick your battles. Let’s save the heavy artillery for when we need it.”

And there was little doubt that they would need it soon.

Dr. Green’s office had called earlier that morning and confirmed that Mimi had suffered a serious stroke and that there would not be a full recovery. Neither Joely nor Cat were surprised, but the news affected each of them deeply, although in different ways.

A few days from now Joely would board a plane and head back to Scotland. There would be an ocean between her and her mother’s needs. Cat wasn’t so lucky. Mimi’s life was intertwined with hers. Every decision they made about Mimi’s future would have a powerful impact on Cat’s future as well.

“I can’t believe they have offices in the basement,” Joely muttered as they wound their way through a maze of corridors. “Don’t these people believe in windows?”

“They’ve run out of room,” Cat said as they followed the signs marked Social Services. “The township’s thinking about floating a bond to help fund an expansion.”

“I’m glad we left Annabelle at Karen’s again. This would have been a disaster.”

“Why put her through this?” Cat said. “She doesn’t need these memories.”

“Neither do we.” Joely bristled at the sharp look her sister aimed her way. “You told me not to hold back, didn’t you? That’s the way I feel.”

“You might want to hold back with the comments around the social worker.”

“Good point.”

The social worker’s office was at the end of the corridor, a small, windowless, airless room with a metal desk, two file cabinets, and a pair of metal folding chairs for visitors. The fluorescent lighting overhead only added to the stark ugliness of the situation.

“I’m Emilie Weaver,” she said, shaking hands with each of them. “Please sit down and make yourselves comfortable.”

Joely made a point of avoiding Cat’s eyes. Emilie Weaver was either a master of irony or the most clueless individual on the planet. Nobody short of a masochist with a thing for painted metal could get comfortable in that office.

Emilie was new to Idle Point. Maybe that explained the faintly judgmental way her eyebrow lifted as she scanned the police report and the rest of Mimi’s voluminous file.

“Your mother lives alone?” She directed the question toward Cat.

“She has someone in during the day to help out,” Cat said. “And I live less than a mile away.”

Joely cringed at the apologetic tone of her voice.

“She’s been under psychiatric care for quite awhile.” Clearly Emilie Weaver was just getting started.

“She’s been under a medical doctor’s care for manic depression,” Cat corrected her. “She’s been on medication, and it’s helped enormously.” It had been at least a year since Mimi pulled one of her crazy stunts.

“The inference here is that she also has substance abuse issues,” Emilie noted.

“She’s been known to drink too much in the past,” Cat said.

Joely’s anger rose as her sister slid lower in her chair.

“Mrs. Doyle lives alone,” Emilie Weaver continued. “You aren’t with her twenty-four hours a day to know her habits.”

Joely had never seen her sister look so vulnerable or more alone.

“I know what goes into her trash,” Cat said with remarkable restraint. “I see the soda cans in her recycling bin. I balance her checkbook. I think I have a pretty fair idea about her daily habits, Ms. Weaver.”

“You’re not with her all day.”

“No, I’m not. That’s why I hired a housekeeper for her.”

“A live-in housekeeper?”

“She’s there from eight until four.”

“The fire happened at ten in the morning.” Emilie Weaver leaned back in her chair. “Your mother was alone.”

And my sister was alone from the time she was ten years old,
Joely wanted to scream.
She doesn’t owe Mimi anything
.

She leaned forward in her ratty folding chair and locked eyes with the social worker. “I’m afraid I don’t see the relevance of Mimi’s alcohol consumption, Ms. Weaver. The stroke takes that issue off the table.”

Emilie Weaver was prone to high color. She looked down at the sheaf of papers on her desk and spent a few moments shuffling them around. Joely wasn’t above relishing her discomfort.

“After careful review, I think it’s clear Mrs. Doyle will no longer be able to live alone.”

Both she and Cat nodded their agreement, but neither said a word.

The look on Emilie’s face made it clear that the woman didn’t believe they understood much of anything where Mimi was concerned.

“You both live in town?” Emilie Weaver asked.

“I do,” Cat said. “My sister lives in Scotland.”

The social worker focused in on Cat. “If you choose to bring your mother into your home, you’ll have to make considerable changes to your life, but it can be done.”

“I intend to look into an assisted-living situation.”

Emilie favored her with a chilly smile. “Most elderly patients thrive in a familial environment.”

“I think assisted living is a better option in this case.”

“I disagree, Ms. Doyle. Research has proven that—”

“I’m pregnant.”

“I see.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Cat said pleasantly, “but I don’t think I could handle her care and a new baby simultaneously.”

“Have you read that file, Ms. Weaver?” Joely demanded. “Do you have any idea how we grew up? It’s a miracle either one of us made it through to adulthood.”

“Joely.” Cat placed a hand on her wrist. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. We would have thrived in a familial environment, too, but I didn’t see anyone offering us one.”

“You seem to have some unresolved issues,” Emilie observed.

“And your point is?” She had gone too far to back down now.

“Perhaps you should speak with someone about them.”

“Perhaps I should have spoken to my mother about them,” Joely shot back, “but I think we’ll all agree that ship has sailed. Cat is here because she wants to do what’s right for our mother, and I’m here because my sister is the best woman I’ve ever known, and I love her. The rest is none of your business.”

That was the difference between the movies and real life. In the movies a statement like that would end with wild applause and an exit worthy of Meryl Streep in her prime. Too bad real life wasn’t anything like that.

There was no applause, no sweeping stage-left exit. They all sat there, still as stones, on their cheap metal folding chairs and stared at each other.

Joely was glad the office was in the basement because if there had been a window available, she would have thrown herself through it.

What had she been thinking? Grand gestures had their place, and this wasn’t it. She had meant every word she said in defense of her sister, but this hadn’t been the way to go about it. This was the equivalent of tossing a ticking time bomb into somebody’s house and setting it to explode when you were long gone. In another day or two she would be back in Scotland, far away from the everyday reality of Mimi’s life, but Cat would still be here picking up the pieces.

She turned to her sister. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“My sister is right,” Cat said, and Joely felt like cheering. “Those papers of yours can’t possibly tell you what it was like to grow up with Mimi for a mother, and I’m not going to try. Now let’s talk about what we need to do to provide the best possible care for Mimi. As Joely said, the rest is nobody else’s business.”

The silence was deep and wide. Emilie Weaver looked at them. They looked back at Emilie Weaver. The silence between them stretched. The social worker didn’t know what she was up against. Nobody could stretch a silence like a Doyle woman on a mission.

“All right then,” Emilie said, flipping through the papers one last time. “Now, about your options for assisted living . . .”

 

“YOU WERE GREAT in there,” Cat said as they waited for the elevator. “I was a heartbeat away from a meltdown, but you stepped in there and saved the day.”

“Officious bitch,” Joely said, glaring in the general direction of Social Services. “She should mind her own business.”

“She was,” Cat reminded her. “Patient welfare is her business.”

“She had no business putting you on the defensive.”

“I wasn’t on the defensive.”

“Yes, you were. She was trying to make you feel guilty.”

The elevator doors glided open, and they stepped inside.

“She didn’t have to try to make me feel guilty,” Cat said as the doors slid shut. “I do a pretty good job of that myself.”

Joely made a dismissive gesture and pressed L for Lobby. “You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

“If Mimi hadn’t been alone yesterday morning, none of this would have happened.”

“Come on, Cat. You can’t believe that. That stroke would have happened when it did even if Mimi had had a houseful of company with her.”

“I know that, but somehow it doesn’t seem to matter.”

“So why don’t I feel guilty?” Joely challenged her. “She aimed a few of her arrows in my direction, too.”

“That’s a good question,” Cat said as the elevator shimmied to a stop. “Not that I think you should, but why don’t you feel guilty?”

“I don’t know,” Joely said as the doors opened. “Just lucky?”

Every now and then God handed a woman exactly the right thing to say at the right moment. The haunted expression in Cat’s eyes vanished, and the two of them started to laugh.

“Now, I’m the last one to object to laughter, but are you girls in or out?” Roxanne from Radiology was holding the door open.

“Out,” said Joely.

“In,” said Cat.

“Make up your mind, ladies. I have a hot left shoulder waiting for me upstairs.”

“I need to check for messages,” Joely said, “and make sure Annabelle’s okay.” She also wanted to see if William had phoned again with new contact information. They had never gone so long without speaking, and it made her feel disoriented and unsettled.

“I’m going upstairs to see Mimi.”

“I’ll meet you in ten,” Joely said as the door slid shut behind her.

How did Cat do it? Didn’t she ever feel like saying to hell with everything and walking away from Idle Point and the endless cycle of responsibility? All Joely could think about was how quickly she could get from the elevator to the exit. She felt like a prisoner on a jailbreak, tunneling her way to freedom.

She didn’t want to make pleasant conversation with the receptionists or chat with the aging candy stripers who knew her way back when. Ten more steps . . . seven . . . three . . . freedom!

God, the air smelled wonderful. All fresh and scrubbed clean with pine and sea salt. Last night’s walk on the beach had reminded her of all the things she had loved about the town where she grew up. She sank down onto the stone bench to the left of the door and let it all wash over her in blissful solitude and silence.

The solitude didn’t last long. She heard footsteps coming up the walk, and in a town the size of Idle Point, odds were she knew who they belonged to. She closed her eyes and pretended to be deep in meditation but—big surprise—it didn’t work.

“Hey, Joely.”

She squinted up into the sun at Zach Porter and her heartbeat lurched forward. “Is Annabelle okay?”
Please God please
.