Ties That Bind by Marie Bostwick Page B

didn’t think she had a prayer of regaining consciousness.”
    â€œShe did have prayers,” Dad said firmly. “Hundreds of them. And they’ve been answered.”
    â€œWell, I certainly respect your beliefs, Mr. Matthews,” the weary physician said dispassionately. “I’ve been a physician long enough to know there is always hope, even in seemingly hopeless cases. But at the moment, our concerns must turn to the quality of life Olivia may have. Her injuries were severe. It’s too soon to know, but there may have been damage to the brain. In any case, we’re looking at a long period of recovery and no guarantees as to the outcome.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?” I asked.
    The doctor cleared his throat and motioned for everyone to take a seat. Philippa glanced at me with raised eyebrows, not sure if she should stay. I pointed to a nearby chair. Anything that the doctor was going to say, Philippa could hear too. My parents took a spot on the sofa, Dad’s arm draped protectively over Mom’s shoulder.
    â€œIt means,” the doctor said soberly, “that we are going to do everything possible to help Olivia breathe, eat, talk, walk, think, and do all the things that a normal six-year-old should be able to do but, at the moment, there is no certainty that we’ll succeed.”
    â€œSpeak plainly. What are her chances of living a normal life?” Mom asked in a sharp voice that was so unlike the patient, soft-spoken woman who raised me.
    The doctor didn’t seem at all offended by my mother’s tone. He was undoubtedly used to dealing with families under stress. “We’re looking at weeks, and probably months, of treatment and therapy, but it is impossible to predict how effective those treatments will be. It’s possible Olivia will make a full recovery, but,” he said, turning toward me, “it is more likely that she won’t. I’m not trying to be negative, Miss Matthews. I just want you to have a realistic picture of what you’re facing.”
    I took a moment to collect myself, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, suddenly aware of the complicated and miraculous nature of that seemingly simple act, an act my niece, whose life my sister had entrusted to me, could not perform on her own. This was not the time to give in to my emotions. For Olivia’s sake, I needed to be strong and think clearly.
    â€œI understand. Thank you for being so up front, Doctor. What happens now?”
    â€œWe’ll need a thorough neurological evaluation. That will give us a better idea of her cognitive function. And we need to wean her off the ventilator, see if she can breathe on her own and for how long. That’s the benchmark that will determine whether we continue rehabilitation or begin searching for a long-term care facility.”
    Dad frowned and sat up taller in his seat. “If you can get her off the ventilator, how long would it be before she could be transferred to a hospital in Buffalo?”
    The doctor looked at me cautiously before answering. “I assumed, since the mother named Miss Matthews as guardian, that any program of rehabilitation would take place in New Bern. Is that not the case?”
    He addressed the question to me, but Dad didn’t give me a chance to answer, interrupting with questions of his own.
    â€œNamed her guardian? A note scribbled on a bit of paper when my daughter was dying? Out of her senses with pain and fear? Under the influence of drugs?”
    My cheeks went hot. I hadn’t told Philippa about the results of Mari’s toxicology report. There hadn’t been any reason to.
    Mari had made a lot of mistakes in her life and, yes, abusing drugs and alcohol had been among them. But all that changed after Olivia was born. Mari wasn’t high when her car slid off that icy road, and though I’d been raised never to contradict my elders, especially my father, I