On Ocean Boulevard Page 26

  “He’s fine,” Linnea replied. “Chirping away. Is there anything else you need?”

  Cara nodded. “There is something I need to ask you.”

  “Anything.”

  “I feel badly having to dump all the ongoing work projects at the aquarium on you, but I have no choice. You are in charge now. Do you feel up to it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Cara returned a brief smile of relief. “I thought you’d be. The Fourth of July Beach Sweep is a lot to handle, but it’s your baby. When you need help, go to Toy. She’s been at the aquarium for long enough to know everyone and can steer you in the right direction for help.”

  “I’ve got everything under control,” Linnea assured Cara. “You don’t have to worry about a thing other than your precious daughter.”

  “I’ll call you to check in.”

  “You can if it makes you feel better doing so, but you don’t have to,” Linnea said.

  Julia handed Cara the suitcase. “Just take care of Hope. And yourself.” She leaned forward to kiss Cara’s cheek. “We’ll leave you now. But call if you need anything.”

  * * *

  CARA WAS GRATEFUL for their kindness. She brought the suitcase to the bathroom to clean up and change clothes. She felt much more collected and refreshed when she emerged. She picked up her phone and checked her messages. There were dozens, most of them from friends and family concerned about Hope and wishing her well. As she scrolled through e-mails, then texts, she was concerned that the only person she hadn’t heard from was David.

  He’d rushed off the night before to see Heather and Bo. He was dreadfully worried about the children, as well he should be. He’d texted that Heather was having a full-blown anxiety attack about the baby. Cara had texted back that he was in the right place, and that she’d see him in the morning.

  But morning came, and she didn’t.

  Cara waited in the lounge while the doctors were in with Hope. She bent over her computer, sipping terrible coffee and researching measles. She’d read about the outbreak of measles in the country a while back. There had been that false claim that the measles vaccine caused autism, now thoroughly debunked; still, some people refused to get their children vaccinated. She’d thought the issue had died down, but she’d been wrong. The number of measles cases was still increasing across the world. The virus was deadly, causing hundreds of thousands of deaths, especially among children. Just in the United States, almost fifteen hundred cases had been reported in thirty-one states already that year. She continued scrolling until she read one statistic that struck her cold. More than 75 percent of those cases were linked to outbreaks in New York. Cara’s hands lay still on the keyboard as she reread that statistic, her breath quickening.

  “Miss Rutledge?”

  Cara swung her head over to see Dr. Friedman, Hope’s pediatrician, standing near. She was a stately looking woman with thick white hair neatly trimmed around her pale face, her heavy dark eyeglasses a dramatic contrast to all that white. She had a kindly manner, even old-worldly.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I want to discuss Hope.”

  “No, heavens, no. I was just reading about measles. In fact, I’m waiting for you.” She closed her computer and was about to rise when Dr. Friedman gestured for her to stay seated. She came closer and sat beside her. Although she smiled, her face remained solemn.

  “We’ve looked into Hope’s medical records,” she began.

  Cara swallowed and clenched her hands together.

  “Hope was adopted, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And her mother was an undocumented immigrant?”

  “It’s complicated,” Cara replied. “Elena, Hope’s mother, was here on a student visa, all perfectly legal. She was a bright girl. I was her mentor in a program with the college. Then one day she just disappeared. I didn’t hear anything for months, not until I received word that she’d been killed in an automobile accident. It was horribly sad. Such a loss. A woman from Social Services came to tell me about Elena’s death and informed me that I was named next of kin. It seems that, unfortunately, she got pregnant and her American boyfriend dumped her.” Cara paused. “I was Hope’s legal guardian. When I adopted Hope, I received her medical records. They stated that Hope had received her measles vaccination. I gave those records to you.”

  She nodded. “Yes. In retrospect, I should have done tests to confirm that Hope had received the vaccine, or the right amount. Believe me, I would never take measles lightly. But I haven’t ever seen a case in my practice, thanks to the high vaccination rates. True, in recent years we’ve seen the number of cases increasing in our country, though not in South Carolina. Most of those cases originate from outside the country, from people who were unvaccinated or didn’t know whether they were vaccinated.” She paused. “Or, as in your case, when the vaccination report was falsified.”

  Cara’s mouth went dry. “Falsified?”

  She nodded. “Yes. We were able to track down the source. And now, of course, we know she was never vaccinated.”

  “My God. I never thought—I mean, why would they falsify that? What difference would it have made?” She put her hand to her head. “I should have checked.”

  “I assure you, we will go over her immunization record with a fine-tooth comb. But for now, there’s no point in looking back. We have enough to deal with for the present.”

  Cara felt her knees weaken when he took her hand.

  “Hope is a very sick little girl,” she began, her voice kind but full of concern.

  Cara remained quiet, grateful for her bedside manner.

  “As we said, measles can be dangerous, especially for young children. One in five will be hospitalized. I’m afraid she has developed complications.”

  Cara froze. The complications included ear infections, pneumonia, deafness, brain damage, even death. “You said she had an ear infection,” Cara said with hope.

  “Yes. We have that under control,” she replied. “However, her body is in a weakened condition. This leaves her open to more complications. Cara,” she said, “Hope has developed pneumonia. We’re monitoring her closely,” she hastened to add. “But this is serious. She will have to stay in the hospital for a while longer.”

  “Of course.” She licked her lips, trying to get hold of her racing thoughts. “What dangers are there?”

  “There’s always a risk it could worsen, of course.”

  “Worsen?” she asked. “How? What does that mean?”

  “Let’s not go beyond where we are right now,” she replied, patting her hand.

  Suddenly her bedside manner felt more like condescension. “Dr. Friedman, I’d like to know the possible prognosis. What if her pneumonia worsens?”

  Dr. Friedman pursed her lips. When she spoke, she used that doctor voice that was oddly calming. “Hope was a strong, healthy child before the measles. Severe complications usually come in children who were malnourished or had a compromised immune system at the onset. But… Hope’s immune system is compromised now. She’s on antibiotics and we expect her to recover.” She paused to let that statement sink in. “However, if the infection causes the air sacs to fill up with fluid…”

  She didn’t finish. Cara finished for her.

  “She could die.”

  Her eyes softened with pity. “It’s a possibility. We’re not going to let that happen.”

  Cara felt cold. She couldn’t speak.

  “We are doing everything in our power to prevent any further complications. I’ve consulted with the CDC and we are observing the most up-to-date practices. Be assured. Hope is in good care.”

  Cara nodded and tried to smile but couldn’t manage it. When Dr. Friedman rose, she rose as well.

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  “I’m going now. But I’m on call and we will be monitoring Hope very closely. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need me.”

  “Thank you,” she said again in a rote manner.

>   She watched her walk away in a smooth stride. A nurse hurried up to her with a chart, which she perfunctorily signed. Cara wondered if her husband or partner was at home waiting for her to return and have dinner. If she had children. Grandchildren. How many children had she seen die?

  Cara went directly to Hope’s room and stood, staring down at her child. She thought of Elena. Odd that she hadn’t thought of her in quite a while. She used to think of her often, especially right after she’d adopted Hope. She had searched for Elena in the baby. Elena’s dark eyes had been so full of life. Hope had her mother’s eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Elena,” she whispered. “You entrusted me with your daughter. And I let you down.” She felt her voice waver and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. But… I’m upset, too. Angry. Did you even know Hope’s records were a lie? This could’ve been avoided. So simple. One vaccine.”

  Cara bent closer and let her gaze sweep over Hope’s face. She was sleeping soundly, hooked up to an IV. Her face was still aflame with the hated rash—and her breathing was labored. Her little chest moved up and down in the struggle.

  Cara slumped into the chair beside the bed. She felt helpless. Alone. Where was David? She needed him, his strength. He’d promised to be right back. She looked at Hope and remembered how happy she was on the carousel, holding on to the mechanical horse, laughing, waving and calling out, Look at me, Mama!

  Cara looked down and took Hope’s hand. All those germs on that horse. The doctor said it was likely she’d caught the measles on the trip, possibly Coney Island. The area had a high incidence of measles. She brought Hope’s small hand to her lips, felt the heat of it, and felt her frustration building in her chest. Why had David insisted they go to New York? Why did he always have to have his way? She’d never wanted to shop for a fancy wedding dress. She didn’t want a large wedding. Why? Feeling her frustration fuel her anger, Cara began to cry.

  “Excuse me,” came a voice from behind her.

  Cara sniffed and wiped her eyes.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” said the nurse. “We have tests we must do. Now would be a good time for you to get something to eat.”

  “Yes,” Cara said, “of course. How long will you be?”

  “Not more than twenty minutes.”

  Cara kissed her daughter’s hand, then left the room. She stood in the hall feeling adrift. She didn’t know where to go, what to do. She couldn’t eat a thing. Perhaps coffee, but she didn’t think she could drink another cup of the hospital brew. There was a coffee shop a block or two away.

  Cara pulled her phone out of her purse and checked for messages. Lots of junk. Nothing from David. She stuck the phone back in her purse, feeling a flush of resentment. Where was he? Wasn’t he worried about Hope? She could barely breathe, her anger grew so hot. All the worry and frustration that had simmered in her gut all day found a target.

  She went to the elevator, needing to get out of the hospital, to get some fresh air. The bell rang and the metal doors slid open onto the lobby. The outside was just a few steps away.

  Suddenly, standing in front of her was David. He looked ragged, chalky-faced, his eyes rimmed with dark circles. But he was shaven and neatly dressed. His eyes lit up at seeing her.

  “Cara!”

  She stepped back, pinching her lips tight, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Were you going out?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was frigid.

  He moved aside to make room.

  She stepped out of the elevator and turned toward the front doors.

  “Where are you going? How is Hope?” He followed her outside the building. “How’s Hope?” he asked again when they reached the sidewalk.

  “Nice of you to ask.”

  He stopped and grabbed her arm. His voice was gruff. “What’s that about?”

  She jerked her arm from his grasp. “Where were you?”

  “I’m sorry. I was with Heather and the children, sorting things out. I knew you had Hope under control.”

  “Did you? And you finally decided to show up.”

  His face went cold. “What do you mean?”

  “Where. Have. You. Been?” she snapped, her eyes blazing.

  “With Heather. I told you. I was very worried.”

  “So was I. About our daughter.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “Cara, you know what happens when Heather shuts down. She hasn’t had a panic episode in years. It’s hormonal after the baby, the doctor said. That plus the stress and worry about the measles. I had to get her settled.”

  “She has a husband.”

  “He’s never dealt with this, and certainly not with two children.”

  “And a nanny.”

  “Cara…” he said, but his voice had hardened.

  Good, she thought. She wanted him to know how angry she was. How hurt she felt at being abandoned.

  “Heather’s anxiety spiked into a full-blown panic attack. And with good reason. We’re not talking about the flu. Measles can kill an infant.”

  “Measles can kill Hope too!” Cara shouted at him.

  He stared back at her, openmouthed. “What are you saying?”

  “She has pneumonia! She could die,” she cried, her voice breaking.

  David gently took her arm and steered her to a pocket park outside the hospital. She let him lead her to a park bench and slumped down onto it.

  “What’s happened?” His voice was low.

  “I told you what happened,” Cara said, wiping her eyes. “You would have known if you’d bothered to call.”

  “I’m sorry. I knew I was coming back, and I guess I felt everything was okay once Hope was in the hospital. I was trying to get back, but…”

  “It’s been a disaster,” Cara interrupted. “Hope’s medical records were sent. It turns out they were falsified. Hope never was vaccinated.”

  “What?”

  Cara continued. “I had to notify the school, the parents.… You were there when I got my marching orders from Dr. Manigault. Did you help me? No! You said you were coming right back. You didn’t. You left me alone to deal with it all by myself. Heather has a husband. And a nanny. Why couldn’t they have taken care of her? Why do you always have to treat her like she is some child?”

  “She is my child.”

  “She’s thirty-two years old! Hope is our child. Is it always going to be like this? Heather comes first. Then Rory, then Leslie. Then Hope?”

  “Cara, stop. You know that’s not true.”

  “Do I? Then why weren’t you with us when we most needed you?” She took a deep breath and ground out, “I am so angry.”

  “Worried I can understand. Even upset. But why are you angry?”

  She clenched her hands in fists at her sides. She told herself not to say it, that she would regret it, but she couldn’t hold it in.

  “Because you made me go to New York!” she screamed.

  David leaned back as though slapped. “I thought you wanted to go.”

  “Did you ask me?”

  “Yes.”

  “No. You announced we were going. You’d already bought tickets.”

  “Because Emmi said you hadn’t bought a dress. The wedding was coming up. We wanted to surprise you.”

  “Well, you did. And once again, I caved. I went along.” She took a breath. “You always get your way. I was fine getting a dress off the rack in some store, but no.” She shook her head. “That wasn’t good enough for you. Not for David Wyatt. You had to make a big production of it. Your constant need to make everything an event. Buy airplane tickets and take the whole entourage to New York. To the biggest bridal salon in the country. You orchestrated it just like you orchestrated having a big wedding. But you know what? I never wanted a big wedding!”

  She was shouting now. David’s face grew mottled, but he remained silent.

  Cara pointed at him. “You push and you push in your nice way, but you always get what you want. Well, guess what? Do you know what you got this
time? This time you got measles. Did you know that seventy-five percent of the cases of measles reported this year came from New York?” She saw his eyes widen. “That’s right. New York. That’s where Hope caught it. Probably at Coney Island.”

  “You were the one who asked me to take you to Coney Island.”

  “I know. Because we were in New York.” She put her palms to her cheeks. “Why did you make us go to New York? It’s your fault Hope is sick!”

  Cara turned away. She knew she was being unfair, but she couldn’t stop. Her heart was beating fast and she felt broken.

  David didn’t speak. He sat beside her, staring out at the street. Traffic rolled by. A few cars honked. Pedestrians passed, unaware of the scene unfolding on the park bench. When at last he spoke, his voice was low and lifeless.

  “I didn’t realize I was making you do anything,” he said. “I thought you wanted a big wedding. I thought you wanted to go to New York. I just wanted to make you happy.”

  She suddenly felt drained.

  “Then why did you go through all of this?” he asked.

  “Because I wanted to make you happy.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “You left me alone today,” she said to him, her voice calmer now but deathly cold. “Alone to deal with the doctors and the nurses. Alone to find out that Hope’s records were falsified. Alone to learn that my daughter has pneumonia. That she could die.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Cara couldn’t bear to hear David say I’m sorry one more time. “I can’t do this,” she said, standing up. She looked at David, saw the hurt in his eyes, and felt the pain in her own heart. “I’m going to see my daughter. I don’t want you to come with me.” She emphasized the word my. She knew it would hurt him. She wanted it to.

  “I thought she was our daughter.”

  “I thought so too.”

  Cara turned on her heel and walked out of the park, back into the hospital. Alone.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sea turtles are ancient mariners that have survived on Earth for more than 100 million years. Today, their future is jeopardized. Sea turtle species face extinction due to human impacts including fisheries by-catch, coastal development and loss of nesting beaches, plastic ingestion, and the consumption of sea turtles and their eggs.