behind-the-scenes shenanigans, trying to undermine her. He can’t seem to understand that Rory’s success with Langtry Cosmetics shines right onto him. I still can’t believe that he tried to get the board of directors to remove her. He papers it over by saying it’s just business. I warned Rory that if she took Tate money to start her company, a Tate would come with it.”
Tom was glad that Rory hadn’t told her mother about her premonition. Rory and Evelyn seemed to have a mutual protection society, sparing each other bad news, shielding each other from pain. He guessed it had started after Anya’s murder, when Rory’s and Evelyn’s lives had been turned on end, and they had finally drawn closer after years of chilly civility.
Evelyn plucked at her evening gown. “It’s ridiculous for Richie to take out his anger with me on Rory. His father and I have been married for seventeen years. His mother, Boo, had been dead for four years when we wed. It’s time for Richie to get over it. He thinks I’m some gold digger and his dad married beneath him, you know.”
Tom had heard this tale many times. He nodded and didn’t comment.
A nurse sped into the room, first pausing to dim the lights. She was followed by orderlies pushing a bed that held Rory.
Rory thrashed and kicked under a light blanket. Her face was pinched. She rolled her head back and forth on the pillow and moaned, “No, no…”
The orderlies moved the bed into place and left.
“Hi, Rory,” the nurse said in a quiet voice. She elevated the head of the bed slightly. “I’m Joy. It’s nice to meet you.”
Evelyn rushed to Rory’s bedside and reached under the blanket to grab her hand. “My baby. My beautiful baby.”
Tom stood a few feet away, dumbstruck.
Joy efficiently went into action, hooking up monitors, noting Rory’s vital signs, working quickly, firmly moving Evelyn out of the way. “Excuse me. Need a little room here.”
Tom put his arm around Evelyn’s shoulders on top of her fur stole and led her to a corner.
Joy made notes on a clipboard. “Are you her mother?” she asked without looking up.
“Yes.” Evelyn absently patted her hair. “Yes, I’m Evelyn Langtry Tate. This is Tom Fuller, Rory’s fiancé.”
“Rory’s suffered a brain injury.” Joy spoke softly. “She’s easily agitated, so it’s important for us to keep the environment calm and quiet. Her injury lowers the seizure threshold, meaning that loud noises, light, and activity could provoke seizures. I encourage you to talk to her and touch her, but please do it gently and keep your conversations in front of her positive.”
Evelyn asked, “Can she understand us?”
“She might,” Joy said.
Tom looked at Rory, the woman he was planning to spend the rest of his life with, whom he felt closer to than anyone on earth. Her eyes were open to slits. She was thrashing back and forth, moaning in a way that was almost feral. Before, her condition had been theoretical. Now it was real. With that reality came a fear that their life together, as it had been, was over. Even if she recovered, things would never be the same. The thought occurred to him without any more emotion than the round clock on the wall reporting the time as 2:17.
“When’s the wedding?” Joy asked, not pausing in her work.
Tom cleared his throat. “June, next year.”
“A June wedding,” Joy said. “How wonderful. A big wedding?”
“It’ll be the wedding of the decade,” Evelyn replied, as if she refused to consider any other outcome.
Rory mumbled something unintelligible.
“You’ll be a beautiful bride, Rory,” Joy said. “You have to get well for your wedding to your handsome fiancé. I’m going to insert a catheter, Rory. It’s going to be uncomfortable for just a second.”
Rory tried to pull away when the nurse touched her. She let out a muffled, strange scream, the tone warbling higher then lower and going on and on.
Evelyn yelped in sympathy with her
Tom was glad that Rory hadn’t told her mother about her premonition. Rory and Evelyn seemed to have a mutual protection society, sparing each other bad news, shielding each other from pain. He guessed it had started after Anya’s murder, when Rory’s and Evelyn’s lives had been turned on end, and they had finally drawn closer after years of chilly civility.
Evelyn plucked at her evening gown. “It’s ridiculous for Richie to take out his anger with me on Rory. His father and I have been married for seventeen years. His mother, Boo, had been dead for four years when we wed. It’s time for Richie to get over it. He thinks I’m some gold digger and his dad married beneath him, you know.”
Tom had heard this tale many times. He nodded and didn’t comment.
A nurse sped into the room, first pausing to dim the lights. She was followed by orderlies pushing a bed that held Rory.
Rory thrashed and kicked under a light blanket. Her face was pinched. She rolled her head back and forth on the pillow and moaned, “No, no…”
The orderlies moved the bed into place and left.
“Hi, Rory,” the nurse said in a quiet voice. She elevated the head of the bed slightly. “I’m Joy. It’s nice to meet you.”
Evelyn rushed to Rory’s bedside and reached under the blanket to grab her hand. “My baby. My beautiful baby.”
Tom stood a few feet away, dumbstruck.
Joy efficiently went into action, hooking up monitors, noting Rory’s vital signs, working quickly, firmly moving Evelyn out of the way. “Excuse me. Need a little room here.”
Tom put his arm around Evelyn’s shoulders on top of her fur stole and led her to a corner.
Joy made notes on a clipboard. “Are you her mother?” she asked without looking up.
“Yes.” Evelyn absently patted her hair. “Yes, I’m Evelyn Langtry Tate. This is Tom Fuller, Rory’s fiancé.”
“Rory’s suffered a brain injury.” Joy spoke softly. “She’s easily agitated, so it’s important for us to keep the environment calm and quiet. Her injury lowers the seizure threshold, meaning that loud noises, light, and activity could provoke seizures. I encourage you to talk to her and touch her, but please do it gently and keep your conversations in front of her positive.”
Evelyn asked, “Can she understand us?”
“She might,” Joy said.
Tom looked at Rory, the woman he was planning to spend the rest of his life with, whom he felt closer to than anyone on earth. Her eyes were open to slits. She was thrashing back and forth, moaning in a way that was almost feral. Before, her condition had been theoretical. Now it was real. With that reality came a fear that their life together, as it had been, was over. Even if she recovered, things would never be the same. The thought occurred to him without any more emotion than the round clock on the wall reporting the time as 2:17.
“When’s the wedding?” Joy asked, not pausing in her work.
Tom cleared his throat. “June, next year.”
“A June wedding,” Joy said. “How wonderful. A big wedding?”
“It’ll be the wedding of the decade,” Evelyn replied, as if she refused to consider any other outcome.
Rory mumbled something unintelligible.
“You’ll be a beautiful bride, Rory,” Joy said. “You have to get well for your wedding to your handsome fiancé. I’m going to insert a catheter, Rory. It’s going to be uncomfortable for just a second.”
Rory tried to pull away when the nurse touched her. She let out a muffled, strange scream, the tone warbling higher then lower and going on and on.
Evelyn yelped in sympathy with her
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