"When I go home, everything there feels heavy. Depressing. Dark."
A strange shiver worked its way down Mariah's arms. "Are you sure that's not maybe your own mood talking?"
Izzy burst into tears again. "I don't know anymore. I have no idea. Everything I do takes so much effort. It's like every day, I'm waiting for something bad to occur. I can't take it anymore." She sniffed. "You know what I do sometimes? There's a cave near the house. Well, it's about a forty-five-minute walk straight off the back of the house. I even notched some trees to make a path, since I go there so often. Some days, I sit in that cave and dream about living there, alone."
More internal alarms went off in Mariah's head. Izzy was in real distress. "Have you thought about counseling?
"What counselor wants to deal with this mess?"
"That's their job. There are good counselors. They can help."
"You got a counselor who's a saint? Because that's what it's going to take for someone to dig through this mess." Her laugh edged on hysteria and tears, and she took a shuddering breath. "How about that pill so I won't care about my life right now?"
"Um, I'm not sure we specifically have that."
"Sure you do, Doc. Come on, don't hold out on me." A wobbly smile capped the comment. "Anything?"
"Well, how about we start with a low-dose antidepressant, some counseling, and we meet again in a week?"
"That's not a bad idea. It'll give me something to look forward to." She raised her hands when Mariah opened her mouth. "Kidding. Okay, not really."
Mariah stepped out to send the prescription to the local pharmacy. Six p.m. Most staff had gone home. The day was almost done. Thank God.
When she came back in the room, Izzy had her cell phone clutched to her ear, eyes wide. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
"Okay. Yeah, but is she—?" Izzy shoved her hair back off her face. "All right. I can check on her when I get home." She pursed her lips. "I know it's bad," she snapped into the phone. "That's all we can do." Ending the call, she rubbed her face. "Sorry."
"Everything okay?"
"No. Mom's not doing well."
"Like you mentioned before? How her health is causing you stress?"
"No. Now is different. Tommy said she's having trouble breathing and she's talking out of her mind."
Mariah fingered the stethoscope around her neck. "Can he get her to the hospital? If not, call an ambulance. We'll run some more tests. The pneumonia could be back. Or she could be septic."
"You know Mom. She refused to let the boys call 911. Tommy said she'd only see you, and she won't leave the house."
"What?"
"He's going to try to get her to go to the ER. If she shows up there, would you see her?"
"Sure. I'll be here doing paperwork for another hour or so." Because no way did she want to go to her empty house alone. "If she comes in, I'll see her name pop up on the ER census." No way did Mariah want to make another house call out to the Brand ranch, either.
Izzy rubbed her face. "I don't know if I can handle any more. If Mom dies... Oh, man. Worst of all, Mom's kind of a jerk at times. Must run in the family."
"I don't know about that, Izzy. But, yes, if they can get her to the ER, I'll do what I can to help her."
Izzy's eyes lit up, like this was the first piece of hope she'd heard in ages. "Deal." She sniffed. "I've got another few hours to work at the store tonight. Then I'll stop by the hospital. Hopefully she'll be here. Thank you." She tucked her worn jacket over an arm and exited the exam room.
"Of course."
A little over an hour later, Mariah's stomach rumbled. A few snacks from the break room hadn't made much of a dent in her hunger, and she stared at her desk computer. She sighed and updated the hospital's census. No Mrs. Brand registered or admitted to the ER yet. Mariah could just imagine the effort it would take to get that woman to the hospital.
Finally, she traded her white coat for her wool one and headed for her car.
Tossing her satchel into the front seat, she turned at the sound of a vehicle approaching. For a brief second, her heart leapt.
