Before I Let You Go(15)

7


LEXIE


As Eliza administers the sedative to Annie, I slip quietly from the room and prepare to confront the woman with the bun. She offers an introduction before I have to ask.

“Mary Rafferty,” she says, extending her hand toward mine. I shake it briskly, and she continues in her broad drawl, “I’m a social worker with Child Protective Services. And you are?”

Social worker? I figured CPS might get involved after the birth, but that’s still a long way off—why would she visit today?

“Dr. Alexis Vidler,” I say stiffly. “I’m Annie’s sister.”

“Ah,” Mary Rafferty says, nodding knowingly. “Well, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“I wondered how an addict could afford this place.”

I bristle at the scorn in her tone, but I push down my irritation. I’m tired and angry, but thankfully at least smart enough to realize that a CPS social worker is the last person on earth I can afford to offend at this point.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Rafferty?”

“Well, CPS will be petitioning the court to strip your sister’s parental rights. I’m here to take a brief medical history and get a rundown on her living situation to help the judge with his decision in the case.”

She delivers this announcement in such a nonchalant, unguarded way that if I listened to her tone instead of the words, she might have been announcing her plans for the weekend. I gape at her.

“What?”

Mary Rafferty gives me a quizzical frown. She seems perplexed by the outrage in my tone, which only outrages me more.

“Didn’t you read the paperwork the police officers brought in? Anne has been charged with chemical endangerment of her child. That’s a felony.”

“She’s been charged—she hasn’t been found guilty.”

“Well, she failed a drug test and according to her doctor, she’s admitted to using heroin. While pregnant, Dr. Vidler.” Mary gives me an incredulous look. “Surely you as a doctor can understand how serious that is.”

I can’t help it—I flush. I’m embarrassed by my sister’s behavior, even as I start to defend it.

“She has an addiction,” I mutter defensively. “It’s an illness. She needs help, not—what did you say? To strip her of her parental rights? What is that going to achieve at this point, other than to stress the hell out of her? The baby isn’t even due for weeks. There’s time to sort all of this out.”

“Respectfully, Dr. Vidler, that’s not how this situation is going to work. Decisions need to be made about that child’s welfare, and your sister is not fit to make them.”

“The child’s welfare? What decisions need to be made right now that she’s not ‘fit to make’?”

“Well, the doctor who reported her to us overnight was concerned that she might discharge herself and attempt to use illicit drugs again. That’s obviously not in the child’s best interests. Besides which, he said there was some medication she refused. Are you aware of that situation?”

“Medication?” I repeat, and I scan back over the events of the day and can’t figure out what she’s talking about, until I remember that early-morning discussion about methadone. “Oh—well, yes, she wasn’t keen on methadone, but she took it eventually.”

“Methadone? Oh, I didn’t realize . . . well, that’s a bit different, then. Judges don’t generally like to see these addicts go from one drug to another, even if it’s a legal alternative . . . they generally want to see moms in an abstinence-based program.”

“Well, she can’t just go to rehab,” I snap. “She’s incredibly sick, and she’s pregnant. Going into withdrawal now would be a recipe for disaster.”

“Oh, I see.” Mary Rafferty frowns, and then withdraws a notepad from her handbag. “Could you spare me a few minutes to discuss this some more before I go in to speak with her?”

I laugh incredulously.

“You’re not speaking to her, Ms. Rafferty. When those officers came in earlier her blood pressure spiked, and her specialist is sedating her as we speak. If you go in there, she’s going to panic, and she can’t afford to.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist,” Mary says, and she plants her palm flat against her chest and leans forward toward me, offering an apologetic grimace. “I really need to get a history here, and also—well, I just have to understand her living situation. I could come back later today, I guess. But I’ll need time to put together a report so I can make a recommendation at the hearing tomorrow.”

“You’ll have to make do with speaking to me,” I say. “She’s in no state for an interrogation right now.”

“Not an interrogation, Dr. Vidler,” Mary gently scolds as if I’m a child. “I just need to understand her situation so we can figure out what to do with this baby.”

“I hope by that you mean figure out how to help her care for it.”

Mary Rafferty’s good-natured smile disappears in an instant, and now she seems confused.

“Dr. Vidler—you can’t seriously think she’s an appropriate person to care for a newborn.”