I guess this needs more thought. Maybe I should just wait and see if this behavior continues or if it ends as fast as it began. I’m not scheduled again for two days. I sure hope the progress we made today isn’t lost in that amount of time.
Oh! Did I mention when we went outside, Claire lifted her face up to the sun and closed her eyes? I think we need to find her sunglasses. She’s never needed them before. She never raised her face or opened her eyes enough. I know I have an extra pair somewhere—I need to remember to take them in Friday! I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to get back to Everwood!
For an accomplished attorney, who at one time specialized in courtroom tactics, John Vandersol’s voice revealed more emotion than he intended. “Dr. Brown, I’m directing this inquiry to you, because after three hours of trying, I’ve been unable to reach Dr. Fairfield!” “I understand you’re no longer in charge of Claire’s care, but my wife and I want answers.” “So, are you saying you weren’t briefed on yesterday’s mishaps?” “I see.” “Yes, I’m well aware of confidentiality regulations. I’m also confident you’re well aware that Emily and I are Claire’s documented next of kin and as such are named under her HIPPA clause to be privy to any pertinent information.” “Yes, Emily was with Claire until she woke yesterday, which I’ll add wasn’t until after 3:00 PM.” “I understand.” “I hope I’m being perfectly clear, if I don’t hear from Dr. Fairfield by noon, then my wife and I will be at Everwood by 1:00 PM. When we arrive, make no mistake, we will put an end to this new protocol. It seems that...”
Emily sat wide-eyed, listening to John’s side of the conversation while nursing her third cup of coffee. Though she tried to decipher what Dr. Brown was saying on the other end, she wouldn’t know for sure until John hung up the phone. It had been a long night. Neither of them had slept much. When Emily got home, the nanny, Becca, was still there. Usually, her day was done after dinner. Luckily, they had a few trusted people they could call at the last minute if there were evening emergencies. Having help was especially nice on occasions like yesterday, when calls came demanding Emily’s immediate attention at Everwood. Last night, instead of taking the risk of the children overhearing their conversation, she and John left the house so that she could fill him in on the problems at Everwood. With each word, each description, John’s anger grew. Ever since the new protocol began, Claire’s response has been negative instead of positive, add to that the recent sedation incident, and Emily was ready to call it quits.
Yesterday, the nurse tried to explain—too much sedation would reduce the necessary brain activity keeping Claire from her visions—hallucinations—whatever they wanted to call them; nevertheless, it was obvious, too little resulted in a traumatic episode for Claire—and for Emily. It was almost 4:00 PM before she left Everwood, and Claire still hadn’t eaten. Emily refocused on John’s words.
His tone was more inquisitive. “...do you have any more specifics?” “Has this aide worked with Claire in the past?”
Emily tapped his arm and raised her eyebrows in question. When he didn’t respond, Emily whispered, “Does she know if Claire ate anything yesterday?”
John nodded as he continued, “All right, thank you, Dr. Brown, but we still need to hear from Dr. Fairfield. I have questions about yesterday’s DTI—questions which apparently only he can answer.” “I will, thank you.” “Goodbye.”
Emily sat her coffee cup down, as sleep deprivation overtook her tone. “Why didn’t you ask her about eating?”
For the first time since he came home last night, John smiled. “I didn’t ask, because she volunteered. Claire not only ate last night—compliantly—she went outside. According to the aide who works with her”—John’s eyes widened—“Claire wanted to go outside.”
“Really”—sarcasm prevailed—“and how did this aide know that? Did she say that Claire spoke?”
Shrugging his shoulders, John replied, “I didn’t ask. I’m just happy she ate and moved from that chair where she always sits. Maybe you should be too?”
Emily stood to leave John’s home office. “You know that if I believed them—I would be, but come on—she was incoherent all day—couldn’t sit—much less stand—for hours after the last dose of sedative. Now they want me to believe she ate and wanted to go outside. Fine—I’ll play their game; however, if she’s not greeting me with a Hi, Em today, I’ll know they’re lying to pacify us.”
As she reached the doorway, Emily turned around. “Are you going into Rawlings today?”
“No, I’m waiting for Dr. Fairfield’s call. If it doesn’t come, then you and I are going to Everwood. Be sure Becca isn’t planning on going home anytime soon.”
“Thanks, John. I know things have been difficult at work since Patricia left.”
Shifting in his chair, John replied, “It was at first. Her knowledge was invaluable; however, the new assistant is catching on fast.”
“You never told me, why was she let go?”
Smiling, he said, “You know the old saying—I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you—and well, I like having you around”—smiling wider, he added—“most of the time.”
Emily shook her head. “Yes, sorry. Sometimes I forget that Rawlings Industries is as top secret as the government.”
“Even more so...” she heard John say as she walked away.
Strength does not come from winning. Your struggles develop your strengths. When you go through hardships and decide not to surrender, that is strength.
—Arnold Schwarzenegger
Harry’s head throbbed, his face ached, and breathing was more comfortable with shallow breaths. Pushing through the dark veil of unconsciousness, he tried to make sense of his condition. Momentarily, the memories wouldn’t come. There were sounds that Harry didn’t recognize as he tried to focus on his surroundings. Through blurred vision, he realized he was in a hospital room, and for some reason, his left eye refused to open. An IV ran from his left arm to someplace behind him. Looking beyond his bed, Harry saw SAC Williams in a chair near the window. Fighting to find his voice, Harry whispered, “What happened?”
As if propelled by an electric shock, Williams was instantly at Harry’s bedside. “Baldwin, nice of you to finally join the party.”
Harry winced as he reached for the controls to raise the bed, so Williams pushed the button for him. As the bed began to move, Harry held his breath—the pain in his side was excruciating.
“Hey, son,” Williams said. “You have a few broken ribs—you might want to take it easy for a while.”
At that moment, Harry’s last memories returned with a vengeance. Suddenly, the pain was forgotten—panic flooded his system, causing his heart to accelerate and his voice to come too loud. “Jillian! SAC? Jillian, someone needs to make sure she’s all right.”
SAC placed his hand on Harry’s arm. “She is, son. Your daughter and ex-wife have been moved to a safe house.”
Relief replaced the panic as the pain from his ribs came back. Exhaling, Harry winced and said, “Good—but I bet Ilona’s pissed!”
“Her daughter is safe, but you’re right, Ilona isn’t happy about the situation, but she understands the threat. We need to know what happened.”