“I’m not having an affair,” said Cassi desperately. “This is absurd. Oh God, Thomas is not himself.”
She watched her mother-in-law for some sign of understanding, but Patricia stood rigidly looking at her daughter-in-law with a mixture of sadness and anger.
Cassi stretched her arms toward the woman. “Please,” she pleaded. “Thomas is in trouble. Won’t you help?”
Patricia remained unresponsive.
Letting her arms fall to her sides, Cassi watched as Patricia walked haltingly to the door. She seemed to have aged ten years since Cassi had last seen her. If only she’d listen. But Cassi realized at last that Patricia would rather break her heart over a lie than deal with the more frightening truth of Thomas’s addiction. As much as Patricia criticized Thomas, Cassi knew that she could never conceive of the possibility of something significantly wrong with her son.
Cassi remained in the semidarkness of the living room for a long time after she heard the front door close. She’d cried more tears in the last forty-eight hours than she had for the previous twenty years.
How could Thomas possibly believe she was having an affair? The idea was preposterous.
With heavy steps she finally ascended the stairs to find Thomas. There was no way she could just go to bed. She had to try to speak to him. For a moment she hesitated outside the study. Then she knocked softly.
There was no answer.
She knocked again, louder. When there was still no reply, she tried the door. It was locked. Determined to talk with him, she walked to the guest room and entered the study through the connecting bathroom.
He was sitting immobile in his easy chair, staring straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. If he heard Cassi, his expression did not change. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Even after Cassi knelt down and pressed his hand to her cheek, he did not move.
“Thomas,” she called softly.
Thomas finally looked down at her.
“Thomas, I’ve never had an affair with George. I’ve never looked at anyone since we met. I love you. Please let me help.”
“I don’t believe you,” Thomas said, badly slurring his words. Then his eyes rolled up and he passed out, leaving Cassi still holding his hand. She unfolded the sofa bed and tried to get him to move, but he refused. She sat with him for a while before going back to her own room to try to sleep.
CHAPTER 8
* * *
IN THE MORNING Cassi was up and dressed before she heard the alarm go off in the study. It kept ringing and ringing. Concerned, she ran down the hall and opened the door. Thomas was sprawled in his chair exactly as she had left him the night before.
“Thomas,” she said, shaking him.
“Wha-what?” he whispered.
“It’s quarter to six. Don’t you have surgery this morning?”
“I thought we were going to Ballantine’s party,” he muttered.
“Thomas, that was last night. Oh God, maybe you should call in sick. You never take a day off. Let me call Doris and see if she can postpone your operations.”
Thomas struggled to his feet. He swayed and steadied himself against the arm of the chair.
“No, I’m fine.” His voice was still slightly slurred. “And with the cutback on my OR time, I won’t be able to reschedule for weeks. Some of the patients this month have already waited too long.”
“Then let someone else …”
Thomas raised his hand so quickly Cassi thought he was going to hit her, but instead he lunged into the bathroom, slamming the door. A few moments later she heard him turn on the shower. When he came downstairs he seemed in better shape. Probably because he had taken a couple of Dexedrines, thought Cassi.
He quickly drank juice and a cup of coffee and then headed for the garage.
“Even if I can get home tonight, I’ll be very late, so you better take your own car,” he said over his shoulder.
Cassi remained sitting at the kitchen table for a long time before she, too, began the long trip to the hospital. “For the first time,” she thought, “it’s not just Thomas I’m worried about. It’s his patients. I don’t know if it’s safe for him to operate anymore.”