Time to Love Again (7 page)

"Mrs. Asbury, this is Mark Leary, Louise Jordan's son-in-law. I'm afraid I have bad news." The deep voice paused. She heard a sharp intake of breath. "Louise suffered a heart attack last night. She's in serious condition. Molly asked me to call you."

Rose stared at the nightstand. She clamped the phone to her ear and shook herself awake, trying to comprehend what Mark just said. Cold fear crept through her body as awareness sank in. Not Louise too. No, dear God, not her too.

"Mrs. Asbury, are you there? I'm sorry I..."

"I'm here." Rose couldn't quite believe it. "I'll be right there." She hung up without waiting for a reply, ran to the bathroom and fought back the nausea rising to her throat.

How could this be? Her stomach wrenched. She threw cold water on her face and rinsed her mouth. This scene was all too familiar. It brought back Frank and Emma all over again. She didn't want to deal with it. Please, God, make it go away. Make it a bad dream.

She looked in the mirror. Her pale face stared back, her hair messed from sleeping, her lips drawn. She wasn't very old, only fifty-eight, but she looked and felt older. When had she become her mother?

Hot tear-filled eyes looked back with a vacant stare. She had lost too many people in the last five years. No more, please, no more. She leaned against the sink. She just couldn't take any more. It was too much to handle.

 
"Please, God, not Louise," she prayed aloud.

A heart attack, Louise, the picture of health, the one who exercised, watched her diet and took vitamins. How could this happen? She gasped for air, smothered by despair. She inhaled, taking long deep breaths, fighting dizziness.

Pull yourself together. This isn't the time to fall apart. Get a grip. Be strong. Strong, yeah, right. Why did she always have to be strong? Why couldn't she fall apart just once? She'd like to let go and let someone else be strong. Let someone else comfort her. She was tired of being the one with wide shoulders.

The tower of strength someone called her at Frank's funeral. Why did people view her that way? Didn't they know she was crumbling inside? That her world was falling apart around her. Sure, she had appeared strong. Had to for Melinda and Francis's sake. She couldn't allow herself to fall apart. She had too much to do. Too many people counted on her. Sure the kids helped with the funeral arrangements, but most of it fell to her.

She didn't know if she had it in her anymore. Didn't want to find out.

She threw on some clothes, not paying attention to what she wore. Who cared anyway? Her friend might be dying, and she had to get to the hospital. Nothing else mattered. She needed to go to Louise.

The ten-minute trip seemed to take forever and she prayed all the way. She pulled her car into an emergency spot, slammed the door, and raced to the entrance. No need to ask for directions, she knew where to go, having gone through this so many times before.

Rose slowed down a bit before she got to the elevator. She didn't want to do this. But she had to.

What if Louise died?

Taking a deep breath, she stepped off the elevator.

Molly met her in the waiting room. Poor girl had dark circles under her eyes. Her face looked drawn and so tired. Rose recognized the look, having been there too many times. Fear and pain mixed inside her. She hugged Molly, and they held each other and cried. Brushing the long blond hair from Molly's cheeks, she looked at her friend's daughter.

Molly, the mirror image of Louise, swiped at her tears. "Thanks for coming."

"How is she? Any change?"

"No, the doctors are with her. Hopefully, we can see her soon." Molly dried her tear stained face, pushed her hair from her eyes, and with an arm still around Rose, walked to a table that held coffee. "Would you like a cup?"

Rose took the offered cup, sipped coffee that tasted burnt and stale, set it on the table, and sat down. "Where's Phillip? I thought he'd be here."

"He's on his way," Mark answered. "He was out of town."

Molly wrinkled her brow, pursed her lips, and let out a hissing sound. "He's always out of town. He seems to prefer it to saying home with his wife and kids."

 
The disgusted tone in Molly's voice startled her. Molly had always admired her brother. Rose winced at the vehement tone.

George wasn't here, either. She was about to ask about him when he rounded the corner. She stood up and hugged him. Frank and George had been best friends, and the two couples had spent a lot of time together. Her tears turned to sobs as George held her. Rose couldn't seem to control herself.

 
Good grief, she was falling apart. She couldn't do this. She had to remain strong. George and Molly had enough to deal with. They didn't need a hysterical old woman on their hands too. George rubbed her back, trying to console her.

She knew she should be consoling George.

 
Finally composed, she reached up and kissed his cheek. The last thing she wanted to do right now was compose herself. She wanted to let loose, scream, cry, throw things, it didn't matter what. She was tired of being strong, of being the sounding board for others. But she had to. This wasn't the time or place to let go.

 
No, she couldn't lose it now.

 
Louise had stood beside her through so many rough times. Now it was her turn to repay her friend. She needed to stand strong for George and Molly.

 
"She's going to be okay, I know it. I can feel it." Rose dried her tears. "Louise is strong she'll pull through this." God, she hoped these weren't idle words, hoped her gut feeling proved correct. Somehow Louise was going to make it. She couldn't lose Louise, not now. Not at this stage of her life. She counted too much on her friend.

"That's why you need to get out and socialize," Emma's voice intruded her thoughts.

Not now, she thought, she didn't need to hear this now. She shoved her sister's voice into the corner of her mind and looked at George.

 
Dear, sweet, overweight George, with his balding head and pudgy, round, rosy cheeks. If he had a beard he could play Santa. In fact, he had with his own grandchildren and pulled it off without them recognizing him.

Now why had she thought of that? Her friend lay in a hospital bed in critical condition, and she thought of George playing Santa. Was she losing her mind? Going completely wacko? First the voice that sounded like Emma, the apparition of her much younger sister, forgetting things, talking to herself, now these strange thoughts. She shivered at the idea.

"I hope you're right," George walked away, stared out the window. Rose went and stood next to him. She looked out at the apartment buildings behind the hospital, but didn't really see them through her tears. She prayed her words were true about Louise overcoming this. She had to have faith– that was about the only thing she had left.

Chapter Twelve

A short time later, the doctor came in. Rose didn't like the look on his face. Too serious. George jumped up.

"She's stabilized," the doctor said. "But she needs double bypass surgery. They're prepping her now." The doctor looked from George to Rose to Molly "You'll be able to see her for a few minutes before they take her down."

Rose backed up and slumped into a chair. Louise faced a serious surgery. She sent up another silent prayer. She knew, only too well, the complications that could follow. Molly and George continued to speak with the doctor. She wondered if she had been the one to have a heart attack, if anyone would even know. Would she lie on the floor until she died? Unable to move, unable to call for help? The thought sent shivers up her spine. But it could happen.

Her kids didn't call often and Louise, busy with the holidays, called, at best, once a week. Sadness engulfed her. She hated being alone. Maybe Louise and Emma were right. Maybe she needed more friends. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she curled up in the chair, trying to become invisible.

George sat in the chair next to her and took her hand. "I know this brings it all back for you. I'm sorry."

Rose wiped her eyes and squeezed his hand. "I should be comforting you." She tried to smile but something inside her almost forbid it. How could she smile when her friend faced a critical operation? At least they had her stabilized. "Louise is strong, she'll pull through." Rose clung to that thought.

"Come on, we can see her for a couple of minutes before surgery. The doctor said she's groggy but awake." He stood up, squeezed her hand, and helped her stand.

Rose pulled back. "I can't. You go. I'll stay here. I'll see her after." She pulled her hand away, picked up the cold coffee, took a sip and motioned him to go. Her stomach wrenched. Molly waited by the door with Mark. "Please, I'm okay, honest. This is family time. Go."

"You're family too. I know Louise would want to see you." George seemed reluctant to leave her.

She nodded, waved him away and turned toward the window. She couldn't see Louise like this. It was too painful, brought back too many memories, too much hurt. She felt too much sorrow. If Louise didn't make it, she didn't want the last memory of her to be in the hospital. She had that vision of too many others. No, she wanted to remember Louise vital, healthy, and laughing.

 
Louise had been the one to make her laugh again after Emma died. Louise had been the only one who hadn't given up on her. Brought her out of her shell. She had phoned every day, sometimes two and three times a day. When Rose didn't answer or made some excuse to hang up, Louise came over. Pounded on the door and rang the bell until Rose gave in and answered.

Louise cried with her. Listened to her rant and rave. And sometimes she just held her. Louise made sure she ate and finally got her to go out, at least to the grocery store and to church. Finally, Rose started to visit Louise. All her other friends had written her off. Not without reason. She refused their help, their visits, and even their phone calls. She didn't blame them. But, Louise remained steadfast. Hadn't given up. No, she couldn't lose her friend now.

Rose huddled in the corner of the chair and tried to keep her tears at bay. Not an easy task. She had to stay strong for George and Molly.

When they came back, George suggested breakfast. "It's going to be a long wait and after drinking that coffee, my stomach needs something substantial in it." He informed the waiting room receptionist that they were going to the cafeteria. "Let's at least get some fresh coffee."

Rose ordered an English muffin and managed to choke down half of it. Her stomach churned. She ate in silence.

She couldn't think of anything to say. They had all experienced enough death to know Louise might not make it. George and Louise had been with her when Frank and Emma died. They knew only too well the risks involved in this type of surgery.

After breakfast, they went back to the waiting room. The hours dragged by. Rose hated waiting for anything and the stress and tension in the room didn't help.

 
When Philip came in with his wife, Julia, Rose was shocked at the sight of him. He made the proper inquiries about his mother and hugged Rose.

The changes in Philip amazed her. Not the same man she remembered? She hadn't seen him in at least a year, maybe longer. But it wasn't just his looks that were different. His forehead creased with deep wrinkles; his eyes had creases at the corners. He almost looked older than his father. And the way he acted– standoffish. Philip had never been like that before. She remembered him as outgoing, self-assured and always cracking a joke. How many times had Louise commented that Philip managed to make her laugh even when he was in trouble?

No, this wasn't the man she remembered. Rose sensed tension in him. Something other than his mother's illness. His sorrowful, bluish-green eyes had dark circles under them. Looked like he hadn't slept in days. Julia ignored everyone and found a chair in the corner, curled up, pulled a book from her purse and began to read.

There's something going on between those two. She remembered the earlier comment Molly had made. Must be marital problems. Why else did they act so estranged?

Funny, Louise never even hinted about a problem. Everything always appeared perfect in her family. How often had Rose envied Louise's lifestyle? Envied the way her kids catered to her and that they hadn't moved away. Philip traveled, but that wasn't the same as moving three thousand miles away like her kids did. Oh, sure, she knew they couldn't help it. They had to go where their jobs took them. It was just such poor timing. What with losing Frank and everything.