Vacant Heart

Chapter Forty-Three

"You will be again. I have no doubt of it...this isn't forever."

"I hope so."

I begin to slide the spread sheets into my portfolio. "I'll handle the remaining releases before I go, make sure everything is square and up to date."

He shakes his head. "There's only two left. We'll be fine."

I reach over, and squeeze his hand, gratefully. "Thank you, Matthew, really...for understanding."

"Keep me in the loop. Keep in touch. I can delay the board a few months citing medical leave, but after that, I'll need an answer on what you plan to do."

"I will keep you informed. Samantha...I don't want this to affect her."

"I'll bring her on with me. I've been looking for an assistant since Joann bumped up to research. She won't be overjoyed without you, though. What do you plan to do? Just take a step back? Relax?"

"My mother's health has declined...I'm going to move in with her, take care of her. The doctors think it might help."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

I stand up, refusing to dwell on her condition, knowing if I spare a minute for it, that depression Matthew so worriedly mentioned may actually become a reality. "I should go...tell Samantha. Should I write up an interoffice letter to explain to the team?"

"I'll inform them on Friday at the meeting. I'll only tell them you're taking a step back to care for your mother, so there isn't talk."

"Thanks."

He stands up, and leans in, surprising me with a quick embrace. "Take care of yourself and get back here, all right? You're too good of a damn journalist not to be doing it."

I nod, feeling the weight of the decision I've made as I'm walking out of the conference room.

It's a leap of faith, an impulse that needed to happen.

I have to fall in love with my life all over again.

I need to find a way to thrill again, to dare and take chances.

I need to find a way to accept the inevitable, no matter how frightening.

Samantha stands up when I approach, her iPad in hand. As comfortingly as I can, I wrap my arm around her shoulder, and give her a smile.

"I have to tell you something."

                                                 ***

"Ruth, can you get me some clean towels?" I call out, helping my mother from the chair I've recently installed in her shower, due to the fact that she can't do it herself anymore. The reality I didn't divulge to Matthew, in what was over a month ago now, was that my mother had a stroke. It was a small one, but she was already disoriented 90% of the time I've been with her.

She's too weak to bathe on her own. For weeks, she's been sleeping, taking medication, more sleeping. The small stroke seemed to take most of the life that was still inside of her. Samantha appears in the doorway instead of Ruth, and I blink with surprise.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's been a week since I've heard from you. I'm...just checking in." She tries to hide how daunting is it to see my mother next to unaware that someone else is in the room with us. I wrap her with a towel and shut off the water.

"Josephine," my mother complains, softly.

"I got you. Just lift your foot. I've got your hands. You won't fall."