The Hurricane Sisters by Frank Dorothea Benton

Author:Frank, Dorothea Benton [Frank, Dorothea Benton]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Adult, Chick-Lit, Contemporary Women, Family Life, Family Saga, Fiction, Love Stories, Romance, Women's Fiction
ISBN: 9780062132536
Google: O_rGAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 0062132520
Barnesnoble: 0062132520
Goodreads: 18599663
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 12

Liz—Bad News

I could not believe my ears! It was Maisie on the telephone, calling me at seven thirty in the morning again. But this time it was for a very different reason.

“Liz, Skipper’s had a stroke. Please. Meet me at MUSC.”

Maisie was calling me from the hospital. Her voice was low pitched and had almost no inflection. That’s how I knew she was frantic with worry.

“Dear God. Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

I had just called her Mom, something I had not done in recent memory.

I was stepping out of my shower when the phone rang. My hair was soaking wet. As quickly as I could, I towel dried it and pulled it back in a rubber band. All I could think was, Oh Lord, please let Skipper be all right. I can’t handle Maisie by myself! Please help me dress and get out of here as fast as humanly possible. Please keep Maisie calm. Please don’t let there be traffic.

Right before eight, I jumped in my car and backed out of our driveway, nearly taking out a couple of tourists and my neighbor who was walking her dog.

“Sorry! Medical emergency!” I hollered out the window.

My neighbor called back, “Let me know if I can do anything!”

I gave her a thumbs-up and turned left onto Church Street. I didn’t even know her name much less her phone number. All the way to the Medical University hospital my mind raced. Skipper was supposed to be taking care of Maisie. Was Maisie now going to take care of Skipper? What if he was paralyzed? She couldn’t lift him in and out of bed or a wheelchair! She can’t be a caretaker! She was too old! Did we now have to hire a driver for the driver?

I called Clayton. No answer. I left a detailed message.

“Clayton? Call me. It’s urgent. It’s Skipper. He’s had a stroke. Dear God, I wish you were home,” I said, knowing I sounded uncertain and probably a bit panicked.

He would call back. It was the one thing he was pretty good about. I called my office and Tom answered.

“Wow, you’re in early,” I said.

“I’ve got a pile of stuff to get together that I promised David and Steve. What’s up?”

“Well, I got bad news just now. My mother’s partner has had a stroke and I have to go to MUSC to meet her right now. She’s beside herself.”

“She’s probably scared to death,” he said. “Of course you have to go! Call me later on, okay?”

We talked a few more minutes about the very exciting gift from the Karols and from All Air. It was the best news we’d had in a long time.

I called Clayton a second time. Voice mail again! I’d left a message to say it was a matter of life and death. Just how bad did it have to be for him to return my call or to take it in the first place?

I pulled into the front drive of MUSC and left the car with the valet, hurrying into the lobby.

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