Before I Let You Go(27)

“It’s not too late. If you need me, I’ll take off work today,” he offers.

“Oh, Sam.” I wince a little, then reach across the table and squeeze his wrist. “I love you for suggesting it, I really do. But people are relying on you.”

His gaze is steady on mine.

“You’re the only person who matters to me, Lex. And I have a feeling you’re going to need me.”

“And I’ll have you, but that doesn’t mean your patients can’t, too,” I say gently, and Sam tilts his head toward me.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay today?”

“I can’t even go in to the hearing, so it shouldn’t be too difficult for me,” I mutter, and Sam offers my feeble attempt at humor a laugh it really doesn’t deserve.

“I mean after, Lexie. You’re going to be dealing with the fallout on your own.”

“I’ve been doing that for my entire life, Sam. I can handle it for one more day.”

“Call my office if you need me. I’ll let Cathryn know to get me out of surgery if anything drastic happens.”

“I will,” I promise, and I rise and walk around the table. I stand beside him and rest my hand on his shoulder. Sam turns to stare up at me.

“I mean it, Lexie. I’m here for you, in any way you need me. Okay?”

I bend and kiss him gently. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Will you come in my car to the hospital?”

“No.” I sigh. “I need to pick up a few things on the way.”

I move to walk away, but Sam pulls me gently down onto his lap.

“You look so tired,” he murmurs. There’s a crease in his brow, and his concern is palpable—an open invitation for me to lean on him. I don’t want to burden Sam—but I’m exhausted, and I’m anxious about what the day is going to bring.

“I couldn’t sleep . . . I had awful dreams about it . . . about her.”

“You’re a wonderful sister, Lexie.”

I don’t feel like a wonderful sister. I feel powerless and frustrated, and honestly—I’m terrified. And the worst of it is that today is not going to be the end of all of these awful emotions. We’re still right at the beginning of this chapter of Annie’s life, of my life, and it could be decades before she finds her feet, if she ever does.

“Do you think people can change, Sam?” I whisper. For just a moment, he grimaces as if he really doesn’t want to answer my question, and I clarify, “I just mean, do you think there’s any chance she’s going to overcome this?”

“The legal stuff?”

“The addiction.”

Sam’s gaze softens.

“People beat addiction every day, Lex. It’s hard and messy, but you wouldn’t have fought like you have for her over the years if you didn’t see glimpses of a person worth saving among all of the chaos. Right?”

That’s definitely true. I think of Annie reacting to the news of the legal complexities of her case, and how that beautifully optimistic spirit just kept trying to rise to the surface, even as I delivered the news that pushed it back down again and again.

“Right.”

“So it’s not a case of needing to change who she is. It’s a question of healing.”

“That’s the thing . . . I’m a doctor. I get that. Healing people is what I do for a living. Why haven’t I ever been able to help her?” I ask, and my voice sounds small even to my own ears.

“Have you ever had one of those diabetic patients who just doesn’t want to take their biguanides? They constantly insist they’re just going to lose some weight, exercise some more . . .”

I think of two current patients. It’s not an uncommon scenario at all.

“Of course I have.”

“I get it, too. I get patients referred to me for gastric bypass or even gallbladder surgery. They come for the consult and get all of the information and when I tell them they can book in with Cathryn on the way out, they hesitate and say they’ll call instead, and that usually means they won’t. All you can do is keep giving the advice, keep educating, keep waiting. All you can do is offer them the treatment and hope they’ll reach the point that they can face it. Addiction is the same principle, even if it works in reverse. Annie has been self-medicating for how long? Seven years? And she’s getting sicker and sicker, and you’ve given her the advice and you keep passing her the treatment on a silver platter, but until she’s ready to own her healing . . .”

“That’s what’s so frustrating about this. What if she’s still not ready for that? How can they set healing as a legal requirement for a person?”

“I really don’t know, honey. I guess we just hope we catch a break and this legal stuff just happens to coincide with her being genuinely ready to embrace it.”

I sigh and glance at the clock.

“You really need to go, and so do I.”

“I love you, Lex.”

“I love you, too.”

We share a gentle kiss before we part, then I slip into my car and turn toward the hospital. I stop at the mall on the way and race through the corridors to several stores—picking up some clothes and toiletries for Annie. On my way back to the car, I see the children’s wear store, and I glance at my watch to check the time before I dart inside. I’m in the store for only a few minutes, but I leave with a huge bag of tiny clothing—once I start dropping white and yellow beanies and booties and jumpsuits into my arms, I find that I just can’t stop. Somehow, I feel like I need to keep Annie focused on the baby—on the goal at the end of all of the hard work that lies ahead of her. Maybe the judge is about to ask the impossible of her, but don’t parents do the impossible for their children? Annie loves this baby already; I can see it. Maybe this is the equivalent of those awful situations where a child’s life is in danger and a mother somehow finds the strength to lift a car or run through a fire. Maybe if she just keeps her eyes on the prize of a better life for her child, Annie can find a way to get well.