Chapter One
Florida, December 2015
The cough would haunt Kori’s dreams for years to come. A deep, harsh hacking followed by gasping breaths and moans of agony, only to circle back around to the full-body hacking again.
She rested her forehead on the wall outside the bedroom-turned-hospital suite in her mother’s modest home and tried to block out the sound. She needed to get in there. To assist her debilitated mother to a sitting position and help her clear her lungs to whatever extent possible.
But Kori was tired. Her body was weary and her spirit was beaten down. The end was near. Or so said the oncologist. Even with a home BiPAP machine forcing oxygen into her mom’s failing lungs, they couldn’t keep her oxygen saturation at an acceptable level. Extreme weakness kept her in bed almost twenty-four hours a day. It was a vicious cycle.
The physician, who seemed accustomed to sharing bad news, informed Kori it wouldn’t actually be cancer that killed her mom. She’d succumb to one of three things: a blood clot in her lung, an infected bed sore, or most likely, pneumonia. For the last three weeks, Kori had taken leave from work to be at her mother’s constant beck and call.
No surprise that her mom’s husband was nowhere to be found. As far back as Kori could remember, her mom had a thing for bikers. She’d been married to this particular MC member going on fifteen years. Fucking good-for-nothing bikers.
And fucking cigarettes. How many times through the years had she begged and pleaded with her mother to give up the habit? Far too many to count. Far too many wasted words.
Forty-seven was too young for Barb to have her lungs ravaged by the deadly disease.
With a deep sigh, Kori pushed off the wall and entered the room. Her mother lay curled on her side in the hospital bed, her body atrophied and so much smaller than it had been just six months ago. This illness came on fast and furious.
Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Her mom had ignored the worsening cough for years. Denial was one nasty bitch.
“Let’s sit you up, Mom.” Lifting her mother to a sitting position was as easy as picking up a child. Barb braced her hands on the bed behind her and Kori lessened her hold, but her mom’s arms just weren’t strong enough to stabilize herself and she almost collapsed backward. “Shh, it’s okay, Mom. Try to relax. You know how panicking only makes it harder to breathe.” She had to speak loudly to be heard over the hiss of oxygen.
After a few moments of rubbing her mom’s back and uttering words of encouragement, the coughing fit passed and Barb sagged in Kori’s arms, all her energy spent. It would take her hours to recover from that two-minute episode.
Kori positioned her mother on the bed so she was as comfortable as possible and adjusted the tubing so it was mostly out of the way. She took a quick peek at her mom’s fingernails. A bluish tinge marked the nail beds. Her breathing sounded worse today as well. Something she hadn’t thought possible yesterday.
“Mom?” When Barb’s tired eyes opened, Kori sent her a smile. “I think it would be wise to get you to the hospital. Dr. Griffin is concerned about your high risk for pneumonia and by the way you sound today, I’m concerned as well. I can call an ambulance and have you there in less than thirty minutes.”
Her mother shook her head. “No, baby girl,” she rasped out. The oxygen mask muffled her words and she shoved it up far enough that her mouth was free. Her eyes fluttered closed. The rise and fall of her chest was rapid and deep, as though she was struggling for air. “What would be the point? Prolong my life by a few days? Not interested.”
Yes! Kori swallowed the retort. That was exactly the reason to go to the hospital. She wasn’t ready to lose her mom yet. Wasn’t ready to lose the one person in the world who loved her.
“Mom, please.” The plea had been whispered but somehow her mom heard her above the hissing of the oxygen. They’d been through this before. Barb was sick and tired of the hospital. She wanted—no, demanded—to be allowed to die at home. Kori wanted to respect her mother’s wishes but was terrified by the prospect at the same time.
“Sit back down, baby girl. I need to tell you something important before…well, before I go.” She patted the edge of the bed with her thin fingertips, the energy to lift her entire hand just not there.
Kori sat as gently as possible and grasped Barb’s bony hand. “I’d rather you conserve your strength and rest. Put your mask back on.”
“Shush, you. I might be dying, but I’m still your mother.” The order was issued sharply and Kori chuckled. Leave it to Barb to be so weak she couldn’t sit up but still find the ability to scold.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Barb snorted. “Now this is serious, baby girl. I want to tell you about your father.”
Kori’s throat constricted and her tongue felt too big for her mouth. For a heartbeat, she considered swiping her mother’s oxygen for her own use. Surely not enough air was getting to her brain. It was the only explanation for the auditory hallucination. Either that or months of sleepless nights spent caring for her terminally ill mother had made her mind fracture.
Never once in her twenty-seven years had Kori’s mom uttered a single word about the man who fathered her. Kori had only asked once when she was about ten. The topic was shut down quickly and left Kori with the impression she should not bring it up again.
“Kori? Are you listening to me?”
“What?” She blinked and refocused on Barb’s frail form. “Sorry. Yes, sorry. I was just—did you say my father?”
Barb nodded and inhaled on a whistling wheeze. “Yes, baby girl. He’ll be all that’s left of your blood soon. I’m not saying you need to go meet him. It’s just…he’s the only blood you’ll have.”
Her chest ached at the morose words. They were true. Denying the inevitable was no longer possible, but it still hurt like hell to hear her mom talk about dying. Kori didn’t have any other family. “Why now? Why not ever before?”
Barb shrugged. “I was scared, baby girl.”
“Scared? Of what? Is he dangerous?” She knew nothing of her mom’s life back then. Barb steered away from talking about the past like one stayed away from a live wire resting in a puddle.
Her mom blew out a breath and gave a feeble shrug. “No more dangerous than the rest of them. But I was so young and alone. On the other side of the country. He was…well, he would have wanted me to stay there with you and I just couldn’t. I needed to be near my parents, familiarity. So I left him and never said a word. I was always worried he’d find you and want to take you away from me.” Her mother’s voice was sad, full of memories Kori would never know.
“He’s a biker?”
Barb nodded.
No surprise there. Barb definitely had a type. Kori swallowed around a painful lump in her throat. Countless questions swirled in her head. More than she could process at the moment. “Did you love him?”
Coughing trumped the deafening silence that followed her question. It felt like an hour before Barb settled enough to draw in sufficient air to speak again. “I suppose I loved him at the time. A youthful, wide-eyed, in-over-my-head kind of love.”
Suddenly, it was all too much. The impending death of her mother. The newfound knowledge of a father she assumed she’d never discover any information about. She rose from the bed, panic clawing at her throat.
“When you’re ready, there’s a box at the bottom of my closet with a picture of your father and contact information from when I knew him. If you ever decide to locate him, that’s a good place to start.”
Jesus, she couldn’t handle this right now. The room spun and sweat broke out across her brow. More bikers. Cigarettes and bikers. Barb’s two damned weaknesses. Kori knew enough bikers to last a lifetime. The walls started to close in on her. “I need some air. I’ll be back in ten minutes.” She whirled and darted toward the door.
“Kori?”
Two steps from the door she froze but didn’t turn.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mom. I understand.” She didn’t really, but there was a good chance they wouldn’t have the time to make up if they fought. Kori would never be able to live with herself if she lost her mother while she was irritated with her. For now, she’d keep the peace and shove her muddled feelings aside. Later, when life wasn’t so chaotic, she’d find a way to process everything and deal with her emotions. “I’m glad you told me.”
A wave of fatigue crashed over Kori, so great it almost knocked her down. A few solid hours of sleep would help with that problem, but that was hard to come by. Barb slept in fits, waking Kori every few hours.
After pacing the living room for ten minutes, Kori returned to her mother’s room and checked the oxygen compressor as had become habit. Barb was fast asleep, so Kori curled up on the recliner next to her mother’s bed. For the past few weeks, she’d spent the majority of her days in that chair.
The next morning, Kori cracked her eyes open and winced when sunlight accosted them. The night had been surprisingly calm; Barb only woke three times needing assistance to clear her lungs.
Kori scrubbed a hand over her face and dropped the foot plate of the recliner. Barb would be up soon and she liked a cup of coffee as soon as she awoke. Kori tried to provide her with whatever small pleasures she could in her last days.
She rose from the chair and glanced down at the hospital bed. The second she laid eyes on her mother’s still form, she knew. It was a feeling. An emptiness. A lack of spirit.
It was over.
“Oh, Mom.” She sank down on the bed and grasped her mother’s cold, limp hand as tears streamed down her face. Barb looked peaceful. Finally sheltered from the pain. Thank God it happened in her sleep instead of in a terrifying fit of coughing and suffocation. Barb dying with knowledge and fear in her eyes while she failed to draw in air had been Kori’s biggest fear the past week or so. Tearing her eyes from her mother’s face, she looked at the closet.
In the last minute, her entire world had flipped on its axis. Her mother’s passing hadn’t even registered, and yet, behind that closet door was another powerful shock to her system.
Should she look? Did she even want to look?
She sniffed and wiped tears from her damp cheeks. With a trembling hand, she grabbed the phone from its cradle and dialed the number of the previously chosen funeral home.
One life-altering crisis at a time.