Movement draws my gaze toward the door. Gavin Davenport lifts his hand in greeting and whispers, “Do you have a minute?”
I nod and ease my hand from Mom’s. When she stays asleep, I meet Davenport in the hall.
“Hey,” I say, leaning my shoulder against the wall, mirroring his stance. He’s a good-looking guy. I didn’t appreciate that yesterday in the chaos. Dark hair, light eyes, a lot of symmetry in his handsome face. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for my mom. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Of course. Her pain seems to be under control. We haven’t seen any of the negative side effects that can result from an injury like this. Luckily, there was no damage to her airway, which is fairly common in this situation, so as soon as she woke up, we extubated her.”
I nod and exhale a deep breath. “That’s all good news.”
“I hear the café was really popular.”
“It was.” My fatigued brain slides that direction. “She’s a great cook, great with people.”
“I hear you’re the star baker.”
“I don’t know about star, but I am the baker. Was the baker. Mom started the café after my dad died. She said they always talked about opening one, so it felt like the right move for her after she lost him. I was always right by her side, helping out. That’s where I learned.”
“You two have certainly had your share of misfortunes.”
I nod, sure I did the right thing by drawing the line between me and Cole. I don’t want him caught up in my tragedies.
“You’re resilient. I’ll give you that,” he says.
“This is a pretty big blow. The café alone would have been rough, or Mom’s arm alone. But both? I’m having a hard time seeing how we’re going to rebound. She’s still so young, only fifty-five. I just hope her body cooperates and her arm heals to a point where she can be self-sufficient. She’s always been independent. Had to be when Dad died.”
He nods. “I need to have a serious talk with you about your Mom’s condition and the challenges the future holds. It doesn’t have to be today, but at some point over the next week before she goes home.”
“Home? In just a week?”
“More like ten days if there are no complications. She’ll need skin grafts to fully heal, and because of the depth of her burns and the complicated placement over her hand and fingers, I feel that would best be done at Legacy. A good graft goes a long way toward healing the burned area.”
My head goes a little light, and I put a hand to my stomach.
“Are you okay? Let’s sit down.” He leads me to a few chairs in the nearby lobby. “This is a lot to take in.”
“It’s not. I mean, it is, but I understand what you’re saying. I’m the president for the firefighters benevolent fund, and I had to learn about all the common problems firefighters and their families might face, but when it comes to my own mother, all that information seems to be hitting me fresh.”
He nods. “The grafts are done under general anesthesia, so she won’t suffer through the process. We’ll be able to manage her pain relatively well until she goes home, and we’ll send you home with a pain management crash course along with medications. We’ll give her a nerve block before she leaves. That usually helps with most of the pain and lasts a week or two. She’ll need quite a bit of help at home, so either family or an at-home caregiver will need to be with her.”
The sense of being overwhelmed returns and lands on my shoulders like concrete. “I’m her only family, and her insurance doesn’t cover home care.”
“I know this will be tough on both of you.”
“Hardest on her,” I say. “It kills me to know how much pain she’ll have to suffer. How long will this go on?”
“Barring complications like infection or poor wound healing, third-degree wounds generally heal in about three months.”
“Three months,” I say. “Okay.”
“She’ll need to come in regularly so we can assess the healing, and I strongly advise getting her in with a psychologist immediately. Burns can cause—”
“Psychological issues,” I finish. “Depression, anxiety, PTSD. I remember that part.”
He nods.
I blow out a breath and stare at the floor. Tears fill my eyes. This is just too much. All too much. I wish Cole was with me.
“There’s something else I’d like to talk to you about,” he says, “but that doesn’t have to happen today.”
“May as well get it all out at once.”
“Your deceased husband, was his name Evan?”
That seems to come out of left field, then I realize why he’s probably asking. “Yeah. She’s been mixing him up with Cole. They were best friends, always together until he died. I figured it’s the stress from the accident.”
“I did a quick cognitive test, which she couldn’t pass. That and the way she keeps confusing Evan and Cole shows signs she could have started a cognitive decline.”
Jesus freaking Christ. This can’t be real. “Isn’t she too young for that? I mean, sure she forgets things and mixes things up, but I thought that was just part of getting older.”
“This kind of forgetfulness isn’t normal. I’m sorry to be adding another burden to your already overtaxed shoulders, but there are several signs that this isn’t just from the chaos of the accident.”
My heart drops to my feet. “Shit. What is it? Are we talking Alzheimer’s or dementia or what?”
“That’s a good question, but I don’t have the answer yet. I’d like to have one of our neurologists take a look at her, do a few more tests. It will help us narrow down the cause. From there, we’ll have the information we need to create a plan. The good news is that if she is truly in early stages, there are a lot of things she’ll be able to continue doing for some time—driving, hobbies, exercise.”
“Work?” I ask. “She loved the café. It was really the center of her life.”
“Between cognitive issues and the limited use of her dominant hand, I’d say that would be pretty tough. Not impossible, but tough. When I spoke with her earlier, she thought she may have caused the fire by leaving an oven mitt on the stove. One of the hallmarks of dementia is poor decision-making.”
“She just told me she couldn’t remember why it happened.”
He nods. “And transient memories.”
The magnitude of all this happening at once is almost unbearable.
“I know it’s a lot,” Gavin says. “I’m going to do everything I can to get you both through this.”
I don’t know if there’s anything that will help us get through this, but I still thank him, because he really did catch a rough case by taking this on. “Do the tests. Whatever she needs.”
“Okay. If you ever want someone to talk to about all this, give me a call. I’m a good listener.”
“Thank you. Speaking of calls, I’ve got to get in touch with her insurance company again.”
He nods and gives my shoulder a squeeze before he disappears down the hall.