Page 63 of Love Me Steadfast
I force down a swallow.
Dr. Shreve leads me into a square room with a window at the back, high up enough to give a view only of trees and blue sky. Sunlight streams in, making the pale yellow walls, soft fabric couch, and wingback chair feel welcoming. There’s a simple wood desk and chair and shelves at the back, with a laptop on the desk and a coffee cup. Along the left wall is a small cart with mugs, boxes of tea, and a sugar bowl. The top of the neighboring mini fridge houses the water boiler and a coffee pot.
“Can I get you coffee or tea? Water?”
“Tea sounds great, actually.” If nothing else, to warm my chilled fingers. And to give them something to do besides fidget.
Dr. Shreve’s movements aren’t hurried, and I let myself relax a little on the couch while I wait. That she’s not harried by an overcrowded schedule is another reminder of the quality patient care at Jackson.
Dr. Shreve brings two mugs to the coffee table and sets one close to me, then lowers into the wingback chair with hers. Because her short hair is mostly gray, I had placed her in her mid-fifties, but up close, there’s a youthfulness to her face and a grace in her movements that makes me think early forties, tops.
“Do you have any questions for me?” she asks, bringing her mug to her lips.
Asking how much longer Morgan will be here sounds insensitive. “I know you can’t tell me specifics, but…is she doing okay?”
“She is engaged and willing,” Dr. Shreve replies. “Good signs. As you know, progress isn’t linear.”
I lift my tea to my lips and blow across the top before taking a small sip. “Is there anything else I can do to support her?”
“Morgan shared that you’re helping with the horses she cares for. And that you brought some of her things.”
“I’ve started cleaning her place too.” I sip from my tea again. “I do...worry about the, um, cost of treatment.”
“Would you like me to have our billing department contact you? I do know that her care has been covered.”
I glance up from my mug. “Covered?”
She gives me an apologetic smile. “Our billing department can give you specifics.”
Unease heats low in my belly like the beginning of a cramp. “All right.”
Dr. Shreve nods, like we’ve settled something. “Charlotte, Morgan reacted to something yesterday, and I wonder if you can shed some light on it for me.”
“I’ll try.”
“Before I get ahead of myself, I need you to know that Morgan signed a release of information that allows me to share this with you.”
It must be something pretty big if I’m getting the privacy clause warning. I wish I knew what Dr. Shreve expects in return. “Understood.”
“She was in the day room, and the windows were open. I wasn’t there but apparently there was music coming in from the parking area. Morgan had a strong reaction to it. Can you think of why?”
I sip from my tea but I go for too big of a gulp and the hot liquid scalds my throat. “Do you know what the music was?”
Her eyes turn serious. She stands up and walks to her desk, then brings me a piece of paper. “It was this one.”
The song title is written in slanted printing. I set my tea down and pretend to study it while my stomach drops.
“What kind of reaction?” I force myself to meet her gaze.
Dr. Shreve’s eyes turn earnest. “She slammed one of the windows so hard it shattered, followed by a very strong stress response.”
Shit. “I wish I could help you.” And I do. But I can’t.
Dr. Shreve’s eyes fix on mine. Seconds pass, but I don’t say more, and neither does she.
Twenty minutes later, when Morgan comes into the day room, I’m still sorting Christmas puzzle pieces, my mind numb.
My sister’s eyes are red and she looks wrung out. I stand and she hurries over, letting me wrap her in my arms.
