The Wrong Time Read online

  This is just what I need tonight.

  Adam

  Normally, I’m a very early riser, but today, I feel like I’ve burned the midnight oil. I’ve hit snooze about half a dozen times, and I’m still worn out. It’s probably got a lot to do with our late-night exercise in the gym, and as much fun as it was, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to race upstairs and go for round two in bed.

  Stretching my neck, I slowly open my eyes, sun streaming through our curtains that we forgot to close last night. I squint as I turn my neck toward Georgia’s side of the bed, but my eyes quickly open wide when I realize she’s there. It’s still reasonably early as in we’re not late for work, but we’ll be late if we don’t get moving. The covers have been pulled up on her side, and she’s nowhere to be seen.

  “Georgia,” I call, my voice raspy. I try to clear it several times and call again, but there’s still now answer.

  Where the hell is she?

  And shit, I hope I’m not coming down with anything.

  Throwing the covers off my naked body, I climb out of bed and pull on a pair of shorts which are sitting, neatly folded, on the top of my bedside table.

  After checking the bathroom, I take a few steps toward the door, but the vibration of my cell catches my attention.

  “Damn alarm,” I groan, racing over to switch it off.

  I scoop it into my hand and immediately realize it isn’t the alarm. It’s a call from Mom’s nursing home. My heart begins to race at what they may be calling me about. It’s likely to be something bad as they never call with good news.

  “Hello, Adam Cunningham speaking,” I answer, trying to control my voice.

  “Mr. Cunningham. This is Darlene from Sunshine Village. I’m calling regarding your mother, Beverley.” I know the woman calling me. I’ve had dealings with her several times, and she has a really bad attitude for someone who’s in customer service. This is just a job to her, and she has no care or empathy toward the residents.

  “Yes, Darlene. Is Mom all right?”

  “She’s had a bit of a fall overnight. It seems she got up and out of bed on her own to use the bathroom.”

  “She what?” I squeak. “She spends most of her day in bed. The bars should have been raised. Why would she get up?” I realize Darlene won’t be able to answer what I’m asking, but I don’t think before I speak.

  “I’m only reading the incident report to you, Mr. Cunningham. I can get one of the on-duty nurses to call you back if you’d like, but I can tell you now it won’t be until much later in the day.” She sighs heavily at the end of her sentence, and I want to reach down the phone and shake her.

  How can someone be so cold? This is my mother she’s talking about.

  “That’s not necessary. I’ll be over shortly.”

  And when I do arrive, I’ll be putting in a formal complaint about your bullshit telephone skills.

  “She’s been taken to Lynneville Hospital—”

  “That’s on the other side of the city,” I wail, interrupting her.

  Fuck! I didn’t need this shit today.

  Why the fuck would they take her there when there’s a hospital maybe ten minutes from the home? “No, I want her taken to Sahil West. Her doctors are there.”

  “I can’t authorize that.”

  “Well, put me on the phone to someone who can.”

  “Please hold.” Her voice is so nasally, it’s making me angrier by the second. They should have it on their paperwork where her medical team is located. I’m sure I’ve specified that she be taken to Sahil if there’s ever any problem.

  “Mr. Cunningham, Reid Delany here. I believe you wish your mother to be transferred to another hospital?”

  “Yes, Reid.”

  “I’m not sure why she was transferred to Lynneville in the first place. Your paperwork clearly states Sahil. I apologize for that error, Mr. Cunningham.”

  “As long as it’s sorted right now. My mom’s likely to be stressed, and I don’t want her to arrive at a hospital only to be taken elsewhere ten minutes later.”

  “Of course. I’ll arrange it myself.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll patch you back to Darlene.”

  “No—” The line starts playing the annoying telephone music before I can even get another word out, so all I can do is wait.

  “Mr. Cunningham?” she drawls down the phone.

  “Yes. Can you tell me if her doctor has been called?” My voice is clipped.

  “Again, I’m only reading the paperwork. It doesn’t say. She’ll be at the hospital in thirty minutes. You can meet her there.”

  “Fine. I’ll do that.”

  “The staff at Sunshine Village wishes your mother a speedy recov—” I end the call before she finishes. I can’t stand her robotic voice and fake sympathy for one moment longer.

  I race out of our room and down the stairs, yelling out for Georgia the entire time.

  “What’s wrong?” she calls from the kitchen, sitting at the table with Lucy, enjoying a cup of coffee.

  “Mom’s had a fall,” I reply, coming to an abrupt stop at the kitchen door. I’ve just remembered I’ve only got shorts pulled on, and it’s cooler than I thought down here. I wrap my arms around my torso, trying to remain warm.

  “Is she injured?” Georgia quietly asks.

  “The lady who rang couldn’t give me many details. Only that she was being taken to Lynneville Hospital.”

  “Lynneville? That’s so far away.” Georgia stands from her seat and walks toward me, wrapping her arms around my body. I’m instantly warmed by her embrace.

  “Yeah. I spoke with someone higher and demanded she be taken to Sahil West. They agreed since it was on her paperwork. There was an error. Imagine if she arrived at the wrong hospital and had to be moved again. She will be terrified.”

  “That’s awful. I thought they were really good at her home.”

  “They are most of the time. When I was put back to Darlene, I ended up hanging up on her. I’ve had a couple of run-ins with Darlene before. She’s so rude.”

  “It’s all sorted now. So, let’s get dressed, and we’ll head over to the hospital together…” She pauses and then continues, “Oh, as long as you don’t mind me coming. Do you want me to go to work instead? I can do that if you’d prefer.” Georgia looks at me, her eyebrows pull down as she bites her lower lip. Maybe she’s worried she’s suggested the wrong thing, or that I don’t want her coming with me. Reality is, I don’t think I could do this on my own right now. Georgia is the woman I need to stand beside me.

  “That’d be great if you can come with me,” I smile in appreciation of this amazing woman.

  “Sure. Let’s get dressed, and we’ll head off.”

  Lucy stands from her seat, collecting Georgia’s coffee cup. “I’ll make you coffee to take with you. Tell Mrs. Cunningham that Lucy says to get better.”

  “I will. Thank you,” I nod at my housekeeper. Sure, she’s my staff, but she’s been with me for a long time. I know she formed a good relationship with my mother when Mom lived with me for a brief period.

  Twenty minutes later, Georgia and I are walking out the back door, both of us wearing jackets and Georgia dressed in a cute little beanie. With coffees in hand, we step out the door. Apparently, the temperature has dropped considerably overnight, and the wind has picked up, which is making it a very brisk morning.

  I click the car open, jogging a few steps to get ahead of Georgia to open her door, then immediately run around the car, slide in, and start the engine with the hope it warms up fast. Even though the trip isn’t too long—fifteen minutes on a good day—it’s a lot more pleasant in a warm car.

  “So, where were you this morning? I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

  “You looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you. My old cell woke me with a text, I must have forgotten to turn the volume down, so I got up and went downstairs to read it.”

  “Was your mom replying?” I cautious
ly ask.

  “It was. She was…” she raises her eyebrows, “… cordial in her reply. Polite even. Something I’m not used to from my mom. But anyway, we’ll talk about this later,” Georgia says.

  “It’s all right. Happy to discuss it now. Did she give you any idea why she’s contacting you?” I ask, worried for Georgia. Her mom’s proven in the past to be conniving, so I can understand if Georgia’s hesitant about speaking to her.

  “Nope. Nothing. She’s asked if I can have a meeting with her next week. She wants to come to my house or work, and when I reply, I’ll tell her a flat no to that. I’ll meet her, but it will have to be somewhere neutral.”

  “That’s a smart idea. I can always come with you to meet her,” I offer.

  “Thank you. I really appreciate that. But if I’m to meet with her, I’ll go alone. I don’t want her to know who I’m with or any details about my personal life. I think it’s best to keep that little bit of distance, especially with you, given you now own my dad’s company. I wouldn’t want her coming after you for money or anything.”

  “She wouldn’t be able to, so there’s no need to worry about that. But I get where you are coming from. She doesn’t need to know anything about your life now if you don’t want her to.” I place my hand on her knee, and she places her hand on top of mine, linking our fingers.

  “Thanks for understanding. I’m thinking of meeting her at the coffee shop in the city, you know, where we first met. Well, this time around?”

  “That’d be a good spot, although it’s a little out of the way. What if she brings Alfred? I’d prefer you meet her somewhere that’s buzzing with people. Safety in numbers.” I glance over at Georgia, who seems to be deep in thought.

  We’re nearly at the hospital, and Georgia’s conversation has helped ease my nerves a little. I’m no longer feeling sick as I was back at the house, and our talk has taken my mind off Mom’s condition for a short amount of time.

  “You know, I don’t think she’ll bring him. I’m going to specifically ask that she doesn’t. But she’s never listened to me before, so why would she start now. I don’t know anywhere else that’s neutral territory, though.” She pulls off the beanie on her head and runs her fingers through her long blonde hair before gathering it at the nape of her neck and wrapping an elastic from her wrist around it.

  “Maybe Dales on Monroe. Amazing coffee. It’s central, and while it’s close to work, she wouldn’t need to know you work at EG Enterprises. For all she’ll know, you could work at a pizza shop further down.”

  “That sounds good. I’ll probably need a good, strong coffee while meeting with her, anyway, so it’d be perfect.”

  “Just be careful. That’s all I ask. You’ve been going to therapy to deal with all the shit both she and Alfred put you through.” I pull the car into a parking space and switch off the engine. “I’d hate for all your hard work to be undone.”

  “It won’t be, Adam. Trust me. I learned how to cope with situations now. Ashleigh has been amazing, teaching me methods and the ability to deal with various circumstances. I wouldn’t agree to meet Mom if I thought she might undo everything.”

  We exit the car and head toward the emergency department. Georgia puts her beanie back on, the wind blowing straight through us like an icy blast.

  “I know you’ll make the right decision, sweetheart. Doesn’t mean I’ll worry any less.” Georgia grins and grabs my hand, entwining our fingers. “That’s why I love you, my sexy man.” She cuddles into my side, and I wrap my arm around her shoulder.

  Butterflies build in my stomach the closer we walk to the entrance of the hospital. My mind is full of worry.

  Will she be lucid and understanding of what’s happened?

  Will she be absolutely terrified?

  Or there’s also the slim possibility that she’s coherent today and is cooperating nicely. Fingers crossed it’s that scenario. I need to see Mom right now and make sure she’s fine within herself and not in any pain.

  That’s my main priority now.

  Adam

  Nerves wrack my body, or perhaps I’m scared. I’ve never let anyone else know how I feel, although I suspect Georgia knows. She’s got a good sense for these situations. I’m probably giving myself away by how much I’m squeezing her hand as we walk into the reception area.

  “Beverley Cunningham?” I ask an older woman, her red hair pulled tightly into a bun high on her head. She’s sitting behind a Perspex screen, tapping away on a computer.

  The emergency department is busy, the waiting area packed full of people.

  “Sorry?” the receptionist scowls.

  Dammit! She would have heard perfectly what I said. What she doesn’t know is that my quota for putting up with morons today has been maxed out, and if she doesn’t change her tune, I’m going to become angry.

  “My mother, Beverley Cunningham, was brought here from her nursing home. Can we see her, please?”

  “Take a seat. I’ll find out where she is.” She points toward the chairs. We take a step back from the desk, and after looking around the waiting room again, we stand against a wall. There are no two seats together, anyway, and I don’t particularly care to sit next to an obviously sick child or sneezing adult.

  The woman walks away and comes back moments later but doesn’t call us back. This irritates me further. What if Mom’s condition is serious? Life or death? Will she have us waiting here until she’s ready to call for us?

  We stand there for a good ten more minutes being ignored before a man wearing a white lab coat comes to a side door asking for Beverley Cunningham’s family.

  “Do you want me to come, too?” Georgia asks, placing her free hand on my forearm.

  “We’re both her family. I’m not leaving you out here.” I don’t know why she felt the need even to ask. I thought it’d be a given she’s coming too. We share everything.

  We walk toward the large white door and are shown inside. This emergency department is so much nicer than any others I’ve seen. It seems to be freshly painted, which always gives anything a facelift.

  The doctor shows us into a side room before introducing himself as Dr. Wagner. I shake his hand— this isn’t one of Mom’s regular doctors. He must be the emergency department’s physician. The stark white room is not much bigger than a broom closet being made to feel much smaller with four rather large black chairs inside it. There’s nothing else, not even a table.

  We sit on the chairs, my knee bouncing up and down waiting to hear about Mom’s condition. Georgia removes her beanie before resting her hand on my knee to try and calm me, but it isn’t working. The doctor sits opposite us, a cream manila folder now resting on his lap.

  “I’m looking after your mother until her specialist arrives,” Dr. Wagner begins. “She’s been sedated as she was quite panicked when the paramedics brought her in.”

  Fuck. Sedated. Dammit! I knew she’d be terrified.

  “She’s petrified of hospitals, and the thought of being taken to one comes from when my father passed. When the Alzheimer’s got worse, she would say that it’s where she will go to die,” I advise, not being able to control the sadness in my voice at the memory of my dad. I’m sure Mom never liked hospitals. She even once told me that she left as soon as she could after having me. But the memories of Dad’s passing must still haunt her brain, and the fear of being taken somewhere to die is always there.

  “That’s understandable for someone with her condition,” the doctor adds.

  “Is she badly injured? I don’t know why she’d even attempt to get out of bed on her own.”

  Maybe she needed to use the restroom, or she had a lucid moment and thought she could do what she used to. She’s been in bed for so long now, her muscle tone is all but gone, and she has no strength in her legs.

  “We aren’t sure, yet. She’ll be taken to X-ray as soon as it’s available. Her wrist doesn’t look good. It’s either broken or dislocated.”

  I run my fingers throu
gh my hair, letting out a frustrated grunt.

  “If it’s only her wrist, then that’s a good sign. It could have been much worse,” Georgia whispers to me, and I nod in reply. She’s right. It could have been far worse.

  “As she’s sedated, we aren’t sure if that’s the only damage from the fall. We’ll do a full-body scan to be sure. But at this stage, it doesn’t look like there are any other obvious broken bones. Our main worry is her blood pressure. Has anyone mentioned high blood pressure before?”

  I vigorously shake my head. “It’s never been mentioned to me.”

  The doctor looks at Georgia, who gives him a polite smile and briskly shakes her head. He isn’t to know that she’s my partner and doesn’t have that type of information about my Mom. She’s here to support me, and I love her for it. I do think I will keep Georgia up to date on Mom’s condition from now on, though, just in case.

  “Her reading came in at 160/100. Now, we initially thought that it was due to her pain and injuring her wrist could do that on top of the stress of being in a different environment. However, after reading the charts from her nursing home, it looks like she’s been having fluctuations like this for over a month now, and it appears her GP started her on some blood pressure medication three weeks ago.”

  Shit!

  “I had no knowledge about this. I visit her as often as I can, sometimes several times during the week, and not one person has mentioned this new treatment to me. They used to be so on top of her care.” I ball my hand into a fist at the side of my leg. This is making me angry that the nursing home is withholding information from me, or at least not emailing me updates, and after what happened earlier this morning, I’ll be looking into a new care facility for her later today.

  “These things can happen,” Dr. Wagner starts before leaning in toward us a little more. “My dad’s in a similar situation. All it takes is for a management change or someone else taking on a job role, and things can go awry. My dad’s in his fourth home now.”