Shadows of Recovery (Everhart Family #3)

Chapter 25

Twenty-Five

T he home he shared with Sophie stood proudly against the backdrop of the star-filled sky, a testament to the enduring charm of its western-style architecture. Built in 1910, the two-story house boasted a rustic yet elegant fa?ade with weathered wooden siding.

As Tristan crossed the driveway and approached the front door, he admired the home's timeless beauty. The wide front porch beckoned with its inviting rocking chairs and flowerpots ready for spring plantings, offering a tranquil spot to watch the world go by.

Stepping inside, Tristan took in the cozy embrace of his living room, illuminated by the soft glow of the flickering fire in the stone fireplace. His staff had started it as a welcome home. They all knew he slept in the doctor’s lounge or beside her at the hospital since Sophie was admitted.

To the left, a spacious kitchen beckoned with its gleaming stainless-steel appliances and rustic wooden cabinetry. The scent of home-cooked pasta sauce lingered in the air, again another welcome home, and a testament to Tristan's love for cooking. James sat eating a bowl of pasta and a salad—his night-before-surgery meal.

“Hey, how's the prep going for your surgery tomorrow morning?” Tristan went to join him.

James looked up from his notes. “It’s going okay. Just double-checking everything to make sure it's all set. How did it go with Sophie today?”

Tristan sighed. “It was so hard. She held on to me tightly, plus she’s got a tachy arrhythmia, I think bolstered by her fright. She was petrified when I took her in the ambulance. I hate seeing her like that, but I know it’s what she needs.”

James got up and made Tristan a plate. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you, but you did the right thing. She’ll get the help she needs here.”

“I hope so. It’s just... it feels like everything is falling apart. And Kay’s behavior isn’t helping at all.”

“ What did Kay do this time?” He placed the pasta in front of him.

“She’s been so erratic lately. Today, she brought up Mimi. Threw her in my face, like a dagger. I’m trying to keep everything together, but she’s making it so much harder.” He dug into the pasta. “Mmm.” He closed his eyes.

“ That’s really harsh, Tristan. I’m sorry she did that. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment, especially now,” he growled.

“It’s like she doesn’t care about how much it hurts. I miss Mimi every day, and dealing with Kay's behavior on top of Sophie’s situation... it’s overwhelming.”

“Drink? It sounds like Kay might need help too. Maybe she’s acting out because she’s struggling with everything that’s happened. She’s still in love with you.”

“ Cola, thanks.” He inhaled harshly. “ Maybe. But it’s hard to have any sympathy when she’s being so cruel. I’m just... I’m exhausted, James. I feel like I’m failing everyone.”

James shook his head and placed an open cola and a glass filled with ice beside his brother. “You’re not failing anyone. You’re doing your best in an incredibly difficult situation. Sophie’s getting the help she needs, and Kay... we’ll find a way to deal with her. Maybe she needs some counseling too.”

“Maybe. I just wish things were different. Losing Mimi was hard enough, but now with Sophie and Kay, it’s all too much.”

“ I know. But remember, we’re family, and we’ll get through this together. One step at a time.” James returned to his seat.

“Thanks, James. You’re becoming a damn good counselor.” Tristan smiled.

James chuckled. “I’m learning from the best people, so take my advice. Focus on Sophie for now, and I’ll help with Kay. And don’t hesitate to lean on me if you need anything. After you eat, you should go to bed.”

Upstairs, the bedrooms offered sanctuary from the outside world, each adorned with sumptuous linens and plush pillows. The master bedroom boasted a king-sized bed positioned beneath a large picture window that framed sweeping views of the surrounding countryside. It was a place he couldn’t go—not without Sophie.

Walking into the living room, Tristan shed his suit jacket. He poured himself a generous measure of scotch, the amber liquid glinting in the firelight as he raised the glass to his lips and settled into one of the leather armchairs. But before he drank, he tossed the glass into the fire, frustrated by everything, and unlike when he shared a drink with friends, this drink would risk his hard-earned sobriety.

As he gazed into the flames, lost in thought, Tristan couldn't shake the feelings. Sophie Everhart was the love of his life. She stirred a sense of protectiveness within him. Something he failed at.

Why didn’t he let her come to his father’s funeral? This wouldn’t have happened. His eyes grew heavy, and he fell asleep, but the atmosphere was thick with concern.

* * *

Early the next morning, Tristan, deep black circles beneath his eyes, sat at the head of the table, showered and dressed in an open-collar dress shirt and slacks, flanked by the medical and psychiatric personnel of the facility.

Tristan took a deep breath, glancing around at the team before speaking. “Thank you all for coming this early. I hate to be calling this meeting under such circumstances, but it’s important. Sophie Everhart has responded well to the physical rehabilitation, which is great news. However, she has mentioned nothing about what happened to her. Nor has she acknowledged the physical toll the attack has taken on her body. I’m concerned that she’s either remembering what happened and suppressing it, or that we’re on the verge of a major emotional break where the memories come flooding back. I need to know what your thoughts are.”

Dr. Kay Birdham leaned forward, her hands clasped on the table. “Tristan, it’s not uncommon for trauma survivors to block out memories of the event, especially if it’s something as horrific as what Sophie went through. It’s a defense mechanism.”

Dr. Chris Skylar nodded in agreement. “I agree, and we need to address it carefully and strategically. But we have to be very gentle in our approach. Forcing her to confront those memories before she’s ready could do more harm than good. In her sessions while in the hospital, she talked about mundane things—her favorite books, memories from her childhood, plans she had with Tristan before the incident. We will see if the change in venue will get her to connect to the incident more.”

Kay frowned. “I think it’s time to push her a little. She is quite content to be living in this bubble. But it’s not reality.”

Matt Langdon, the head nurse, chimed in, his expression serious, “From a medical standpoint, her recovery has been remarkable. But according to her hospital chart, even with Tristan at her side, she has had trouble sleeping. Last night, she awakened six times, though we were able to get her to fall back to sleep. Her chart also mentions she’s easily startled, and sometimes she just stares into space for long periods. It’s clear she’s struggling internally. And, Kay, according to the chart, the times you saw her in the hospital left her agitated. I don’t think you and Sophie are the best match.”

James, who had been listening intently, spoke up, “I want to get my feelings out there before my AM surgery at the hospital.” His brows creased. “What are our options? How do we help her without causing further trauma? She will let Tristan hold her hand and, at times, hug her. But she can’t go through life like that.”

“Tristan seems to like that idea,” Kay mumbled under her breath.

James glared at her. “Kay, cut the crap.”

Chris frowned. “Kay, my office when we are done here.” He rolled his shoulders. “She only arrived yesterday. According to Sam, she still has an arrhythmia. I think it shows itself when she’s most frightened. Our first duty is to create a safe space for her to feel comfortable enough to open up. Her room fits that bill, and so does our fifth therapy room.

“That means continuing with the gentle approach in therapy, providing her with a stable routine, and slowly introducing the idea that it’s okay to talk about what happened. And if she asks, introduce what occurred based on her questions. Providing too much info can provoke a break. We might also consider some form of creative therapy—art, music, writing. Sometimes, expressing trauma through nonverbal means can be a powerful first step.”

Sam sipped from an enormous cup of coffee. “Do we have any specifics on what happened to her and where? She became profoundly frightened in our treatment room. She’s seen a treatment room before; nothing there should have frightened her.”

Tristan looked at him. “I have a shift this morning; that’s why we are here so early. I’ll call Brad Killian.”

Sam and Chris nodded. Chris asked, “To change the subject, Kay, how are you feeling about what Matt said?”

Kay pursed her lips. “She’s just a patient. I have no issue with her one way or the other. I do have an issue with all this coddling. But if you want, we can do the kumbaya routine. Tristan, your support is crucial. She needs to know she’s loved and that you’re there for her, no matter what. Sometimes, just being present is the best thing you can do.”

Her tone made him uncomfortable. “She’s not just a patient. She’s very important to me. I hate seeing her go through this, and I feel so helpless. I want to see her whole again. Patients like her are the reason I created this institute.”

He paused and stared at Kay, who was playing a game on her phone. “None of our patients are just patients. What the hell is your problem?” his voice rose.

“No problem, Tristan. We have a treatment conflict, that’s all,” Kay said.

Chris Skylar palmed the tabletop. “We also need to be prepared for any breakthrough moments. If she suddenly starts remembering, it could be overwhelming. Having a solid support system in place, with all of us on the same page, will be critical. Kay, I don’t want you to speak with Sophie anymore. I agree with Matt; I think you two are a bad match.

“I expect a family member to come for a visit today. I’d like to have an idea when they will be coming in. This can take some of the weight off you, Tristan.”

Matt nodded. “Chris, I’ll inform the nursing staff to keep a close eye on her physical health and be alert to any signs of emotional distress. We need to continue the team approach. Sam, how do you want to treat the arrhythmia?”

“If it lasts more than a minute, I want to be paged. Also print it out and document what was going on at the time.”

James stood. “I’m sorry, folks. I have a surgery. If all goes well, I should be back by noon.” He grasped Tristan’s shoulder and nodded.

Tristan blew out a breath. “Kay, I have rounds here and then an ER shift. But we need to talk again. I’ll call you with a time.”

The meeting continued with the team discussing detailed strategies for Sophie’s care. They planned to increase the frequency of her therapy sessions, introduce art and music therapy, and maintain a closer watch on her physical and emotional health. They also decided to involve her family more, as their presence might provide a secondary emotional anchor Sophie needed. After Sophie, they discussed the Institute’s other patients’ needs and progress.

The team dispersed, each member returning to their duties. Tristan lingered for a moment, lost in thought.

Chris walked over and took the seat beside him. “We’ll get through this, Tristan. Just like the other battles.”

Tristan nodded, taking a deep breath. “I know. I just... I want to see her smile again, genuinely. To see her happy.” He shook his head. “And then there’s Kay. Am I coddling Sophie?”

“No, you’re not coddling Sophie,” Chris replied, his voice filled with conviction. “We just have to be patient and keep supporting her. She’s healing from a critical head injury. The fact she’s able to form sentences is amazing. And as far as Kay goes, you owe her nothing more. Yes, she helped you when you were suffering. I’m not underestimating what she did. But she was in love with you then, and, frankly, I think she still is. But that was five years ago. And you didn’t toss her to the curb; you gave her an impressive job. Now she’s throwing all your dedication in your face because she’s jealous. Maybe it’s time for the board to reconsider her position here.”

Tristan gave Chris a small grateful smile. “Thank you for everything.” He checked his watch. “My patients hate me with five-thirty rounds, but I’m due at the hospital at seven-thirty. See you later.”