In Sickness and in Lies novel · Chapter 2 of 32

Chapter 2: Twenty-Four Thousand

At the hospital the doctor says Myrna's rehab bed needs a $24,000 deposit by Friday. Desmond refuses over the phone while Cilla posts diamonds, and Gwyneth's cards stop working.

I called 911 from the gallery sidewalk and gave them my mother's address while the line to her stayed open in my other hand.

Then I drove to Elmhurst with the phone wedged against my shoulder and my hazard lights on.

The ambulance reached her three minutes before I did.

Her neighbor had been watering the porch plants and heard the thud through the screen door.

I found my mother on a gurney in the emergency bay, with one side of her face slack and her eyes searching for me.

"Gwyn," she said.

"I'm here. I'm right here, Mom."

Her left hand gripped mine hard.

Her right hand lay on the blanket and did not move.

A tall man in scrubs stepped between me and the gurney and looked at me for one second.

"Her daughter?"

"Yes."

"Dr. MacGlynn. Stroke team." He had a flat, tired voice and he did not waste a word. "You called fast. That's the reason she's going to get the clot treatment in time."

"Will she be okay?"

"She'll live. The right side took the hit. Speech too."

I waited for the rest.

"I don't know yet if she'll walk," he said. "I won't tell you she will."

My knees went soft.

He did not catch me or pat my shoulder.

He pulled a chair behind me and I sat in it.

"Thank you," I said.

"Don't thank me yet," he said. "The next two days decide a lot. After that she needs a rehab bed, a real one, with daily therapy. The good program is in Oak Park. They hold a bed with a deposit of twenty-four thousand dollars, due by Friday."

"Twenty-four thousand."

"I know. I'm sorry. Her plan doesn't touch it."

He looked at me a moment longer than the sentence needed, and then a nurse called him away.

I did the math standing in the hallway.

I had no savings that were mine.

Desmond paid every bill from his accounts and gave me a monthly allowance, which I reported to him in a spreadsheet he had built himself.

But Desmond had more money than anyone I knew.

I called him.

It rang five times.

"Gwyneth." Wind was blowing across the line, and I heard water. "I'm in the middle of something."

"My mother had a stroke."

A pause.

"Is she alive?"

"Yes. Desmond, she needs a rehab bed. The deposit is twenty-four thousand dollars by Friday. I need you to lend it to me. I'll pay you back from the show."

"Twenty-four thousand," he said. "For a deposit."

"It's her therapy. She might not walk."

"Gwyneth, your mother has insurance. Hospitals ask for everything up front. They always do."

"Not this one. Please."

Behind him I heard Cilla's voice, bright and close.

"Des, come look at the water."

"I'll be back Monday," he said. "We'll talk about it then. And try not to make this a scene, all right? It's been a long weekend."

"Desmond."

He hung up.

I stood there with the phone against my ear and the dial tone going.

Fifteen minutes later Cilla's newest post came up on my screen.

It showed her wrist over a railing and a diamond bracelet, a long line of stones, catching the light.

Underneath she'd typed: He said I deserved something that shines.

I checked the time stamp.

It had gone up fifteen minutes after he hung up on me.

I did not feel anything for a moment.

Then I felt very clear.

I walked to the billing desk and put my card on the counter.

"I'd like to put down whatever I can toward the rehab deposit."

The clerk ran it.

She frowned and ran it again.

"I'm sorry. It's declined."

"Try the other one."

I gave her the second card.

It declined too.

My phone buzzed with a call from the number Desmond's office used.

His assistant answered when I picked up.

"Mrs. Keane, I'm so sorry. Mr. Keane asked me to let you know that all household cards are paused for review until Monday."

"Paused by who?"

"By Mr. Keane."

"He did that today?"

"This afternoon," she said quietly. "After you called."

I checked the one account at the bank that carried only my name.

The balance said two hundred and twelve dollars.

It was the whole of what I could touch in the world.

Down the hall, through the open door of the room where they'd taken my mother, I could hear the machines.

I put my phone in my pocket.

Friday was five days away.

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