Page 37 of The Senator's Wife

Sloane was incredulous. It sounded like they were talking about two different women. Granted, due to Rosemary’s antipathy toward Whit, Sloane hadn’t seen much of her in the past six months, but when she’d come to visit Sloane after the hip surgery, she seemed perfectly fine.

Camille nodded. “There have been little things, but then again, we all forget things sometimes. She’s misplaced her cellphone a few times lately, and she occasionally tells me something that she’s already told me. Occasionally she can’t recall someone’s name. But I’ve been telling myself that it’s not that unusual. Robert’s death hit her so hard she’s become obsessed trying to prove it wasn’t an accident. What if thereissomething wrong and I’ve ignored it?”

The congresswoman patted Camille’s hand. “Now dear, you can’t blame yourself. The doctors will get to the bottom of everything. Let’s not borrow trouble.”

Sloane thought again about Rosemary’s urgent message saying Athena wasn’t who she claimed to be. But then she considered Rosemary’s continued suspicion and accusations against Whit—even Camille thought they were over the top. Was all of it some part of a paranoid delusion on Rosemary’s part?

Finally, a figure in a white coat came toward them. It must be the doctor, Sloane thought. Her expression was grim.

They all stood at the same time.

“How is she?” Camille asked.

“Out of surgery, but I’m concerned about the swelling in her brain. I may have to go back in at some point and put in a shunt to monitor her intracranial pressure if it doesn’t resolve.” She paused. “She suffered what’s called an intraparenchymal hemorrhage to the left side of the brain. That causes blood to pool in the brain.This stops the flow of blood and causes a buildup of pressure. Her right side will be affected, but we won’t know what kind of deficits she might have until she’s awake again and off the ventilator. She’s got a fight ahead of her over the next few weeks, and a longer road after that.”

“Is there a chance she might not make it?” Camille asked.

“I wish I could tell you that she’ll recover, but there’s no way to know at this point.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Sloane asked.

“There’s nothing to do but wait. And if you’re a praying person, pray.”

- 28 -

WHIT

Whit rose early the next day and left the house for a five-mile run. He needed to clear his head after the events of the past two days. Emmy had flown in last night and would be staying for the weekend. The run did him good, and by the time he returned to the house, Emmy and Sloane were up. The smell of bacon floated in from the kitchen.

“Morning,” he called as he walked in, forcing cheerfulness into his tone.

Sloane, sitting at the kitchen table, looked up and smiled at him. “How was your run?”

“Good.”

She inclined her head toward Emmy, who was cracking eggs into a bowl. “As you can see, Emmy’s rustling up a grand Saturday morning breakfast for us.”

“Fantastic. I’m starving. I’ll grab a shower and be back down.” He stopped in the doorway and looked at Sloane. “What are you two up to for the rest of the day?”

“Emmy’s going back to the hospital after breakfast. I wanted to go with her, but Dr. Porter forbade it. So I’ll just be here.”

“I’m glad you’re listening to him. The last thing you need is to pick up an infection,” Whit said. He headed upstairs.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard Emmy call his name from the bottom of the staircase. He walked back down.

“Whit, I want to talk to you privately. Can we go into my father’s study?”

He stiffened. He didn’t like the fact that she still referred to it asher father’s study, even though it had been converted into a home office for him. “Sure.”

She took a seat in one of the leather and chrome Barcelona chairs facing his desk.

“I’m worried about Mom.” Emmy paused, shifting in her seat. “She had that steroid shot weeks ago and she’s no better. In fact, she seems worse. And now with Gram in the hospital she’s even more stressed out. What’s the doctor saying?”

Whit pressed his lips together, gathering his thoughts. “He’s monitoring her meds and he said it takes time. You know as well as I do that the flares are unpredictable.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Athena has been a big help. From what I’ve seen, she’s been very attentive and has instructed the kitchen staff on what foods are good for inflammation and what aren’t. She’s even shown me how to make some herbal teas with healing properties.”

Emmy nodded. “That’s good. Just impress upon Athena the importance of Mom getting her rest. I’ll talk to her as well, but I’m the absent daughter who flew in for the weekend, so I think it’ll have more impact coming from you, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

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