Driftwood Summer by Patti Callahan Henry Read Free Book Online Page B

one who understands the big picture.”
    “Just prepare yourself for a couple of reality checks. I highly doubt Maisy will stay for more than a week, if that long, and Adalee sounded like we’d ruined her summer. I’m not sure how much help she’ll be.”
    “Oh, that will change when I talk to them.” Kitsy took a bite of the muffin. “You’ll see.”
    Riley leaned back in the hard metal chair and breathed in the scents of multiple flower arrangements around the room. “It’s all under control, Mama.”
    “Now you listen to me, young lady. Just because I’m all tied down in a hospital bed does not mean that I am not in charge. It does not mean you can sass me back or tell me what to do. Do you understand?”
    “Mama, quit it. Don’t talk to me like I’m twelve years old.”
    Kitsy closed her eyes. “God, sometimes I wish you were. Then I could change so much about what has happened.”
    “What is that supposed to mean?” Riley stood up, offended.
    “You know exactly what it means. I would never have let you go out that night with a boy who forced himself on you. I would have made sure you finished college, got a degree.”
    “Mama, I’d like to blame this tirade of yours on some kind of drug you’re on, but sadly, I can’t. Your hurtful words aren’t softened just because you’re lying in bed with casts and bruises. No one ever forced himself on me. So stop it.”
    Mama’s anger was legendary. There were rants at the dinner table about her daughters’ grades, fiery speeches in the town hall over the installation of the new stoplight and public outcries about Mayor Friscoe’s affair with his son’s second-grade teacher. The storms always passed as quickly as they came and Mama’s remorse was genuine each time.
    “Oh, baby. You know I don’t mean it. My hip is throbbing with some kind of new pain I’ve never felt before. I can’t roll over. My ribs hurt every time I take a breath and they won’t give me any more pain meds until Doc comes in this morning. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” Tears formed in the corners of her eyes.
    “I know,” Riley said, as she leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. God, how many times had this scene been repeated? Somehow Kitsy Sheffield managed to apologize without ever saying “Sorry” or “Forgive me.”
    Dr. Foster’s presence at the bedside startled Riley. “Where did you come from?”
    “Snuck in while you two were bickering.” He smiled.
    “How is she?” Riley pointed to Mama.
    “Don’t be talking about me like I’m in a coma,” Kitsy warned. “I’m right here.”
    Riley rolled her eyes at Dr. Foster. “Please tell me that the drugs you’re giving her are what’s making her so mean.”
    He laughed, picked Kitsy’s chart off the end of the bed. “The meds and the pain—the combination often puts patients in foul moods.”
    “Stop it,” Kitsy hollered, slammed her free hand on the metal bed rail; muffin crumbs landed on the floor. “I’m. Right. Here.”
    Dr. Foster slipped his stethoscope under her hospital gown and listened to her chest, then looked up, spoke directly to her. “I was worried about your lungs, but you sound fine and the scan is normal. You can go home tomorrow, but you’ll need plenty of help. We’ll have to arrange for home care . . . unless . . .” He looked directly at Riley. “Unless you can take care of her full-time.”
    “No.” Riley exhaled the word with more force than she’d meant to show.
    “Absolutely not,” Kitsy said in unison. “We can hire help. Riley has a son, a store to run and a week’s worth of parties to finish arranging.”
    Dr. Foster looked down at Kitsy over his glasses, which were perched on the end of his nose. “Now you be sweet to your daughter, and I’ll send the social worker in to help make arrangements.”
    Kitsy batted her eyelashes at Dr. Foster—Riley swore her mother had just flirted with the doctor.
    Kitsy’s eyes filled with tears again and