There was no question—Everwood was a much better facility; nevertheless, Emily didn’t feel right leaving Claire and living across the country. In the beginning, Emily believed having Nichol near her mother would be beneficial. Unfortunately, those visits proved to be another failed attempt to facilitate Claire’s recovery. Once Nichol was old enough to understand the situation, Emily believed her niece’s best interest needed to be considered—Nichol hadn’t been to Everwood in over a year.
The court no longer dictated Claire’s treatment; as next of kin with power of attorney, Emily had complete control. Iowa was now their home, and John was gainfully employed by a recovering Rawlings Industries. Meredith Banks was right when she said Nichol didn’t lack for money, and neither did Claire. That was John’s incentive. This time, when he considered the offer to work for Rawlings, he wasn’t accepting charity from a family member. No, this time, he was providing help to his family. Claire and Nichol couldn’t manage or grow their fortune. Since Anthony was gone, John did what he’d done years earlier when Emily and Claire’s parents died; he stepped up.
Emily squared her shoulders and knocked on Dr. Brown’s open door. The pretty blonde psychiatrist stood and welcomed her, “Emily, please come in. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited Dr. Fairfield to join us today.”
It was then that Emily noticed the older gentleman sitting off to the side of the room. The fact he was male caught Emily by surprise. “Hello”—she extended her hand as Dr. Fairfield stood and shook it.
Before Emily could say more, Dr. Brown began, “I’ve asked Dr. Fairfield to join us today because he’s a research professor at Princeton, specializing in traumatic brain injuries. I heard him speak a few weeks ago at a conference and believe he could give us a fresh perspective on Claire.”
Emily sat taller. “Research? I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t want anyone experimenting on my sister. She’s been through enough already.”
Dr. Fairfield spoke—with a thick English accent, “Mrs. Vandersol, I assure you, I’m only here to offer my opinion. I won’t use any of the data regarding Mrs. Rawlings without your permission.”
“Ms. Nichols, Doctor, I need you to understand that the name Rawlings may never be used in the presence of my sister—No exceptions.”
Dr. Fairfield looked toward Dr. Brown. Dr. Brown smiled and spoke, “Emily, I’ve only shared the medical information with Dr. Fairfield—nothing personal. I promise we’ll review all of that before he examines Claire. Currently, he’s only seen her CT scans and read my notes. I believe there’s something I’m missing. I don’t know what it is; however, Dr. Fairfield has documented cases of spontaneous recovery—”
Emily interrupted, “I’ve done my research. Most recoveries occur within the first year. After that, the likelihood is greatly diminished. Isn’t that right?”
Dr. Fairfield replied, “That’s correct; however, the cases to which Dr. Brown is referring were significantly outside the normal time period for recovery.” Emily contemplated his words as he added, “One case was four years out.”
Four years! Emily thought about that. It’d already been over two. She’d come to terms with the idea that Claire would never recover, but was that a life? “What does this mean? What will you do to Claire?”
Dr. Brown replied, “We need your permission for Dr. Fairfield to examine Claire and possibly perform more tests.”
“More tests? What other tests could you possibly perform which other doctors haven’t already done?”
The doctors spent the next forty minutes explaining Dr. Fairfield’s research. The tests weren’t invasive, and Emily’s rules would be maintained. They may introduce some medications or combination of medications that have been previously untried. First, Dr. Fairfield wanted to determine if the cause of her psychosis was indeed head injury, or if it could be something else.
Emily reluctantly shared Claire’s history. She didn’t like the idea of more treatment. After all, Claire was content. Why make her uncomfortable or uneasy? Then again, if there was even a remote possibility—Emily couldn’t say no.
That night, at home with John and the kids, she watched as Michael and Nichol played. When she looked at her niece, she saw Claire and the same carefree ambition her sister once possessed. She also saw the dark eyes of Anthony Rawlings. There were times she detested those eyes. When that negativity crept in, Emily reminded herself—nurture verses nature. Nichol wouldn’t know the life of revenge that her father had allowed to destroy him and anyone else unfortunate enough to be within his sphere of influence. Her eyes would see the world as a place of endless possibilities where love and forgiveness prevail. Emily vowed that with her and John’s help Nichol would see the world as her mother once had—before—
July 15, 2016
I finally did it, but I don’t know if I’m happy or not...I delivered Claire’s lunch and was able to talk to her. When I entered her room, she was sitting at the window, looking out at the bright skies. Although I spoke and made noise, she didn’t acknowledge my entrance. At first, I hesitated to make eye contact.
What I didn’t realize was that I couldn’t. I stepped in front of Claire, but her expression didn’t change. She continued her gaze, exactly as it had been, as if I weren’t there at all. I tried speaking, quietly at first; then louder. Although she didn’t speak or look at me, she eventually got up and walked to the table where she allowed me to feed her.
After Claire ate about half of the lunch, she abruptly stood and walked back to the chair by the window.
Truthfully, I’d been so emotional while she ate that I’d forgotten to speak. When I looked at my watch, I realized I still had ten minutes before I was expected back to the kitchen, so I went back to her. Kneeling in front of her, I touched her knee...
“Claire, can you hear me?” Meredith desperately tried to keep emotion out of her voice; however, with the tears sliding down her cheeks, she wasn’t sure it was possible. Intellectually, Meredith knew the rules regarding Ms. Nichols. Truthfully, she wasn’t thinking. Her heart was breaking at the sight of her friend, now a shell of the vivacious woman she’d once been. “Claire, it’s me, Meredith. Don’t you remember me? We went to Valparaiso together...” Meredith was careful not to mention Anthony, Nichol, or anything else from the last six years. She did, however, ramble on for ten minutes about life as it had been when they were college students.
Never once did Claire’s expression change; although, at some point, she began humming. Undeterred, Meredith rambled about their sorority house and Chicago. It wasn’t until Meredith was out of Claire’s room, nearing the kitchen, that Claire’s tune resonated in her mind. Meredith recognized the song: Take Me Out To The Ball Game—the seventh inning stretch at Wrigley.
July 15 th , 2016 continued:
I want to believe she heard and understood. I don’t know; maybe I’m grasping at straws. After all, most of what I’ve read says that if recovery isn’t made in the first year, it rarely happens—but that song! I was talking about Chicago and baseball games. I don’t think I even mentioned the Cubs or Wrigley, but I know I mentioned baseball...
Without a doubt, I know she was humming “Take Me Out To The Ball Game!”