The phone rang at six a.m., bringing Simon out of a deep sleep. He picked up his phone plugged in on the nightstand to check the readout. Through brain fog, he didn’t recognize the 617 area code. Newport was 401, so it wasn’t his mother. Groggy, it took him a few minutes to recognize it as Boston.

“Bremmer,” he grunted into the receiver.

“Mr. Bremmer, this is Margaret Tyler. I just wanted to let you know that as of last Friday the judge signed off on all Ms. Langston’s estate. Probate’s completed. I have the balance of the monies in her accounts---minus my fees of course---ready to hand off to you. If you’ll just let me know how you want to handle the transfer, we’re done until her townhouse sells.”

“Um, transfer? You mean the money Delaney inherited from her mother?”

“The trust is set up, yes, with you as the executor.”

“Then I guess just put the check in the mail. Will it be made out to Delaney?”

Simon could hear her impatience on the other end of the line.

“No, it’s made out to you as Delaney’s legal guardian and Amelia’s request that you oversee the trust. How many times must I explain it to you?”

“I know what a trust is,” Simon snapped.

“Well then you should know how this works. Are you sure you want me to mail the check and not send it by wire transfer?”

“No, just put it in an envelope,” Simon retorted, ready to get rid of the ornery attorney and be done with her.

“Okay, if that’s what you want. You should also know that I secured a mover to pack up Delaney’s things and transport them to California. The truck left last Thursday so it should arrive in seven to ten days. It’s been my experience that movers always give themselves a long, protracted, estimated time of arrival, so it could be sooner.”

“Wait. You mean her stuff from Boston is being delivered here?”

“Well, of course. The child had furniture and toys so her entire nursery is headed your way. I’m still in the process of liquidating the rest, like the contents of Amelia’s townhouse, and then after that, the townhouse itself. That’ll come in separate checks. No need to bug me about it. I did leave money in the account for my expenses. I did mention that earlier. You do understand that much, right? I don’t do this for free.”

“Believe me, I got that part the first day I met you. Just keep me posted on all of it. I’ll expect a detailed accounting of your fees, too.”

After Mrs. Tyler verified his address, he disconnected the call. Disgusted because the lawyer hadn’t once asked about Delaney’s welfare or how she was doing in her new surroundings, he crawled out of bed in a foul mood and decided to take a shower before the kids woke up.

As soon as he cut the water off, Merlin alerted him that the troops were on the march. He quickly got dressed, forgoing a razor, and went in to check on his charges.

Jayden was already on the living room floor banging his cars into each other.

Simon ruffled the kid’s hair.

“Laney’s crying,” the boy advised.

“Which means her lungs work really well, right? She wants out of her cage.” Simon walked into the room, holding his breath and hoping he didn’t have to deal with poop everywhere again.

As soon as the baby spotted him, the crying ceased and she started babbling.

“First time at daycare today. Let’s dry those tears and get you looking pretty. Daddy has a group of tourists staying at the B&B from Ireland and they want to see the California coast on foot.”

“Da-da,” Delaney crooned.

On the way to her closet, Simon stopped in his tracks. “What did you say?”

“Da-da.”

He snatched her out of the crib and hugged her to his chest, emotions of all kinds running through him. “First time you’ve called me that. Lots of firsts today. Let’s get you into a clean diaper. Jayden, what are you into out there? You’re awfully quiet.”

Jayden’s head popped around the doorframe. “I wanna listen to music.”

“I’ll be right there. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Cocoa Puffs!”

“No argument there,” Simon muttered. “Who doesn’t like Cocoa Puffs?” After the clean diaper went on, he set Delaney down to toddle.

As he moved through the living room, he hit the button on the CD player. Kid music blared out of the speakers.

When he reached the kitchen, he poured food in the dog’s dish before going over to the cabinet to get down bowls.

The minute Jayden heard cereal dropping into his bowl, he responded by scrambling up to the table, waiting for Simon to deliver on the milk.

“I see somebody’s hungry,” Simon remarked, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Simon got Delaney settled into her high chair, filling her bowl up with Cheerios. While the kids ate, he started a pot of much-needed coffee.

The kids were noisy. The music loud. But they ate without a fuss, which Simon celebrated as he enjoyed his first hit of caffeine.

But afterward, coaxing Jayden to put his clothes on took patience and creativity. He all but had to tackle the boy just to get him to settle down enough to dress. After finally getting the second shoe tied, it was Delaney’s turn.

“Just as much of a hassle,” Simon grumbled as he tried to capture her constantly moving legs and stick them down into a pair of overalls.

By the time he loaded up the truck with kids and dog and made sure each was secured in their car seats, his patience was frazzled and all he wanted to do was get on the road.

Running late, he pulled up to the Community Church and had to unbuckle and unload. As he went up the steps, River Cody hurried out the door. “Hey, Simon. How’s the tourist business treating you? Oh, my God, who’s this little cherub?”

“This is Delaney. You probably know Jayden.”

“Oh, hey there, kiddo.”

“You dropping off your brood?” Simon asked.

“Yep. I’ve got a meeting at the Museum with the docents from the Chumash tribe at ten and I haven’t even finished my PowerPoint presentation. Brent’s running down some guy who skipped out on his court date, so he couldn’t help. Typical manic Monday. Where are you headed?”

“Got a bunch of tourists from Donegal County who want to compare notes on Irish cliffs versus ours.”

“Lucky you. At least you aren’t stuck inside on a beautiful day like today. I’m sorry, Simon, but I have to get going. That proposal has to be finished by the time the docents arrive and if I miss this window, I’ll have to wait another month to get the elders to agree on a date. We’ll catch up later.”

“No problem. I need to get Delaney settled. I’m a little nervous. It’s our first time here.”

River waved him off, hot-footing it to her car in a jog. “She’ll be fine. Since Ophelia took over, this place has a better teacher-to-student ratio than it did. She’s hired several full-time staff members who dote on the preschoolers, giving them a lot more attention than before.”

Simon took that nugget and hoped it was true because he felt like he was abandoning his daughter to the mercy of strangers. But it couldn’t be helped. He looked around for Ophelia but didn’t see her. Instead an older lady met him at the door.

“Hello, Jayden. Good to see you this morning.”

“Miss Neenah!” Jayden yelled. The older woman laughed and turned to Simon. “I’m Neenah Brewer. Jayden’s in my class. I was expecting to see Connie. She usually drops him off.”

With his hands full and in a hurry, Simon merely nodded. “Then you must be used to Jayden’s volume. I’m Simon Bremmer, dropping him off while Gilly gets in a few extra winks. I’m hoping Susan has room for Delaney this morning.”

“Susan’s classroom is down the hall, third on the left. It’s Monday so I’m sure she’ll have room. We’re always less crowded the first two days of the week.”

Simon moved on down the corridor, but as he looked back he saw that Jayden marched into Neenah’s classroom like an old pro, not even taking the time to wave goodbye.

In contrast, Delaney acted timid toward Susan, a woman in her twenties with big brown eyes behind a trendy pair of glasses.

Simon surrendered his daughter to the stranger. It broke his heart when the baby began to cry and reach out for him.

“This often happens the first time,” Susan said. “She’ll calm down.”

“I’m sorry,” Simon uttered, watching his daughter turn red in the face and squirm in the woman’s arms trying to get down. “I’ve got to go to work, honey. Daddy will be back for you this afternoon. I promise.”

“She’ll be fine,” Susan assured him as she struggled to hold onto the writhing child who didn’t want to be there and didn’t want her daddy to go.

“I’ll call and check on her throughout the day.” Simon promised again.

“That’s fine.”

But those weak words didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, as he walked out of the building and back to his truck, he felt like the worst dad on the planet, who’d just relinquished his daughter to a total stranger and abandoned her without a backward glance.

With Merlin riding shotgun, he fretted over it all the way to the B&B where, he found eight eager college students waiting for him to show them what California had to offer, a hike he no longer felt that enthusiastic about completing.

 

 

Gilly was pulled out of a deep sleep by a ringing phone. She reached over to the nightstand, felt around on the tabletop until she located her Smartphone. “Hello.”

“Gilly, this is Quentin Blackwood. Your mother collapsed at work this morning and is in the hospital.”

“Oh, no. What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty.”

“How is she?”

“She’s unconscious. We’re about to do an MRI.”

“Give me time to get dressed and I’ll be there.” But after she hung up, she realized she still had to run by and get Jayden. Disoriented and trying to wake up, she tried to think what to do next. Knowing Ophelia wasn’t at the church, she dialed the number for Neenah Brewer.

“Neenah, it’s Gilly. Mom’s been taken to the hospital. Is it okay if I leave Jayden there until I find out what’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about Jayden, he’s having the time of his life. Let me know about Connie. She’s been…not herself for days.”

“You noticed that too, huh? I’ll text you when I know something.”

Gilly slipped on jeans and a pullover top and grabbed her keys. She was out the door within seconds.

She drove fast, too fast, to get to the parking lot. While she made the walk over the bridge to get to the automatic front doors, it occurred to her that she’d just left this place hours earlier.

Aubree came running up and ushered her into Connie’s empty exam room. “She’s not here. Quentin took her to get the scan done.”

“How was she? Did she say anything?”

Aubree shook her head and clasped Gilly’s hand in hers. “She’ll be okay. Her vitals were within normal range.”

“Then I don’t understand what’s wrong with her?”

“She’ll be okay. Dr. Nighthawk and Dr. Blackwood are both in with her.”

During the wait for answers, Gilly called Simon, but it went directly to voicemail. “When you get this message, call me. My mom’s in the hospital. I’m here now. Jayden’s still at daycare with Delaney. Call me.”

Gilly ended the call to pace. Even though she knew Nighthawk’s credentials were stellar and her mother was in good hands, it didn’t keep her from biting her nails.

Gideon Nighthawk had completed his residency at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, a Level I trauma center in the downtown section of Chicago, staying on as one of their staff neurosurgeons until one of his best friends made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

Quentin’s call came at a time when Gideon wanted out of the traffic and the bitter cold of the Midwest. His colleagues had warned him that leaving for a small-time post in California was a major step down in his career. But Gideon didn’t see it like that. Small town folks deserved quality medical care just like those living in the urban sprawl.

He was determined to provide that care and shared Quentin’s dedication to do so. It’s what made them a great team.

On the other end of worry, Gilly stood outside the X-ray wing until she saw Gideon emerge through the steel doors.

He held up his hands. “I just looked over your mother’s CT scan. It’s not a tumor and it isn’t Alzheimer’s.”

“Thank God. So what’s wrong with her?”

“She has what’s known as normal pressure hydrocephalus or NPH.”

“I’ve never heard of it and I’m a nurse.”

 “Most people haven’t. That’s because its symptoms mimic Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, or Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease. The treatment is completely different for NPH so it gets misdiagnosed. Some doctors think they’re treating one of the big three when what they’re dealing with is NPH, which continues to impair the brain’s motor function until it manifests as dementia and then slowly robs the body of mobility.”

Gilly ran a hand through her hair. “I see why it’s misdiagnosed. What is it exactly?”

“It causes a gradual buildup of cerebrospinal fluid in the brain, which messes with the normal flow of fluid and ends up blocking the receptors. Over time, it causes memory loss, a change in personality, the inability to control muscles, and therefore eventually leads to incontinence. It can also affect hand-eye coordination to the point that holding a pen or using the fingers becomes increasingly difficult.”

“Memory loss and a couple of those other things sound exactly like Alzheimer’s and the symptoms Mom’s been having⸻not being able to remember things, walking around in the yard in her gown, erratic behavior. What causes it?”

“Stroke, meningitis, a blow to the head, bleeding around the brain or brain tumor.”

“Wait. She did recently fall outside the drug store. She tripped and fell off the curb. I’m thinking she might’ve hit her head. Could that have been the cause?”

“Possibly. But if she fell, she might’ve been having problems that made her fall. She didn’t see a doctor?”

“No. She had a few scrapes and bruises but refused to get checked out. Look, bottom line is, what do we do about this?”

“The good news is NPH is treatable.”

“And that is…?”

“I make an incision and put in a permanent shunt that should take care of the excess fluid.”

Gilly made a face. “That leaves the fluid to drain…”

“Into the abdomen,” Gideon said with a nod, “Where it’s absorbed in the…”

“Routine circulatory process,” Gilly finished for him. “I get it. What else?”

“In due time, she can resume her normal physical activities. But I doubt she’ll ever be able to go back to nursing full-time unless it’s a situation where she doesn’t have to have pinpoint accuracy.”

“In other words, giving shots and drawing blood are likely behind her.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“So basically, it’s good news, bad news.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be glad it was treatable.”

“Oh, I am. It’s just that…what kind of nursing doesn’t require the whole package? I’ll have to break it to her that…her nursing career is over.” Gilly cut her eyes to Quentin, who’d been standing to the side, listening. “At least you know she wasn’t being rude on purpose and the reason was something medical that she couldn’t help.” She blinked back tears. “In my gut, I knew something had to be wrong, enough that it had her acting so…weird.”

Quentin put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m truly sorry, Gilly. I’ll stop in to see Connie after her surgery.”

Gideon exchanged looks with Quentin. “Cancel the rest of your appointments and suit up. You’re assisting.”

Even though Quentin couldn’t handle a scalpel with the precision he’d once had, he’d been trained in anesthesia. It was the one area where he could contribute during surgery.

Gilly turned back to Gideon. “Did she wake up during the MRI? Can I talk to her before she goes in?”

“Absolutely,” Gideon said, watching her walk off toward Connie’s exam room.

After she’d gone, Gideon scratched his chin. “I don’t understand why she had such a long face. I thought she’d be glad to know the shunt will make her mother better.”

Quentin slapped his colleague on the back. “You have a lot to learn about the human psyche. Connie Grant spent most of her adult life doing what she loved to do. Nursing was her passion. As someone who used to be a highly-touted trauma surgeon and had to morph into becoming a country doctor, I understand how Connie will take the news. Now she has to accept another stage in her life, one completely different than the one she’s used to. Just like I did. At any age, that’s a hard pill to swallow.”

Around noon, while Gilly waited for her mother to come out of surgery, she saw Quentin and Aubree discharge Ophelia Moore. The teacher, dealing with a black and blue face and a busted mouth, checked out surrounded by her friends, Abby Anderson and Jessica St. John.

“If you need anything,” Gilly began, squeezing Ophelia’s hand. “Don’t hesitate to call.”

“She’s with us now,” Jessica said, arm around Ophelia’s waist. “I called Wally to change the locks and Troy to rebuild the door where that asshole broke it down. Eastlyn already finished her investigation and let us know it was okay to go back inside.”

“But we aren’t,” Abby added, “going back inside, that is. Not until the new locks are installed. Ophelia’s staying with me until she feels better.”

“She can barely walk as it is,” Jessica pointed out.

“She’s lucky to have friends like you two,” Gilly said.

“She’s lucky that asshole didn’t kill her,” Abby muttered.

“Next time he just might,” Jessica uttered.

“There won’t be a next time,” Ophelia assured them through swollen lips. “Eastlyn talked me into taking out a restraining order.”

Abby rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’ve heard protection orders just make them madder and more dangerous. He tries coming around my place and he’s in for a big surprise. An old boyfriend left me his baseball bat when he moved out. I’d just love to take a swing at Robby Ogilvie.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Jessica cautioned. “The guy is seriously whacked.”