Chapter 56
Nora's POV
The next day dawned cold and gray. Lucas drove us to Pinewood Psychiatric Rehabilitation Center. A professional medical transport van was already waiting—arranged by Henry—to carry Mom, accompanied by a nurse.
The convoy made its way through the industrial outskirts, past shuttered factories and empty lots, toward the highway leading to St. Mary's Medical Center. Lucas kept the radio low, some classic rock station filling the silence.
Marianne stared out the window, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. I knew she was thinking about all the failed treatments, all the false hope. I reached over and squeezed her hand.
"This time might be different," I said quietly.
She gave me a smile but didn't answer.
An hour and a half later, we reached St. Mary's Medical Center, a sprawling complex of glass and steel.
The medical team was waiting. Dr. Carmichael met us in the neurology wing—a severe-looking woman in her fifties with sharp eyes that missed nothing. She shook my hand firmly.
"Ms. Grey. I've reviewed your mother's entire case history. Let's see what we're working with."
The examination took an hour. Gareth and Lucas waited in the family lounge while Marianne and I paced the hallway. Finally, Dr. Carmichael emerged and led us to a consultation room.
"Your mother's condition is the result of severe psychological trauma compounded by years of inadequate treatment," she said bluntly. "The new protocol I'm proposing combines targeted medication to stabilize her neurochemistry with intensive cognitive behavioral therapy. But I can't promise results."
"What do we need to do?"
"Leave her with us for now. We'll start the medication regimen immediately and begin therapy sessions tomorrow. This is going to be a long process."
---
Outside the hospital, the midday sun was hidden behind pale clouds. Henry had arranged rooms for us at a modest hotel two blocks away—close enough to walk if needed. The lobby was clean but unremarkable, the kind of place that catered to medical families.
Henry himself was waiting in the hotel restaurant when we arrived, standing as we entered. He wore casual slacks and a sweater, looking more like the college friend I remembered.
"I took the liberty of ordering coffee," he said, gesturing to the table. "And the menu's decent if anyone's hungry."
Gareth and Marianne thanked him profusely. Lucas studied Henry with that calculating look. Henry handled it all with easy grace.
I watched Henry charm my family with practiced ease and felt the familiar discomfort of owing someone too much. After lunch, as Henry prepared to leave for an afternoon meeting, I walked him to the hotel entrance.
"Henry, I don't know how to thank you—"
"Don't." He turned to face me, his expression serious. "Nora, we've known each other for years. This is what friends do."
I pulled out my phone and quickly sent him a transfer. "At least let me reimburse you for the hotel—"
His face darkened. "Are you seriously going to treat me like some kind of service provider? Is that what I am to you? Just a useful contact?"
I froze, startled by the edge in his voice.
Henry's fingers flew across his phone screen. "There. Can we please stop talking about money?"
"I just meant—"
"I know what you meant." His tone softened. "But you don't owe me anything, Nora. If you want to thank me, treat me to dinner sometime. But not as debt repayment."
I managed a weak smile. "That I can do."
"Good." He checked his watch. "I really do have to run. But I'll keep tabs on your mother's treatment. Call me if you need anything."
He climbed into his car, waved once through the window, and pulled away into Silverton traffic.
I turned back toward the hotel and nearly jumped. Lucas was leaning against the entrance doorway, arms crossed, wearing a knowing smirk.
"So." He pushed off the wall and sauntered over. "Henry's into you, right?"
"Don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not. Dad and I both noticed. The way he looks at you is not exactly innocent."
"Henry's considerate with all his friends."
"Sure." Lucas's grin widened. "That's why he personally arranged medical transport, booked hotels, and called in favors with top specialists. Totally normal friend behavior."
"Lucas—"
"I'm just saying, Nora. Guy's clearly got it bad. And honestly? He seems decent. Better than the last asshole."
I shoved his shoulder, but without real force. "Can we not do this right now?"
He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. But when you're ready to admit it, I called it first."
We headed back inside together, Lucas still grinning, me determinedly not thinking about the implications of Henry's help or the careful boundaries I'd need to maintain.
The elevator dinged, and Marianne and Gareth stepped out carrying plastic bags from a nearby drugstore. Marianne's face lit up when she saw us.
"There you two are," she said warmly. "We picked up some toiletries and snacks. But listen, I've been thinking—this hotel is too expensive. We can't keep letting Henry pay for everything."
Gareth nodded, shifting the bags in his arms. "The company housing is ready today. We can move our stuff over this afternoon. "
A pang of guilt twisted in my chest. The medical consultation fees, the hotel, the private transport—I was drowning in debts I couldn't repay. "You're right. I shouldn't have let it go on this long."
"Once we're settled in the new place, we should invite Henry over for dinner," she said. "To thank him properly. He's been so generous, but we can't treat him like some kind of ATM."
I hooked my arm through hers, forcing my voice to sound light. "Don't worry, Auntie. When I make my fortune someday, I'll pay him back, and then I'll put you up in the best suite money can buy. Lobster and steak every night."
Lucas immediately perked up. "What about me? Do I get any of that luxury?"
I pushed him away playfully. "You? That depends on your behavior."
Marianne laughed, but her expression turned serious again. "Henry seems like a good person, Nora. We can be grateful without becoming dependent."
I nodded, telling myself to maintain those boundaries. Not to let gratitude become something else.
"I understand," I said quietly.
---
Marianne and Gareth left first to handle the move. I stayed behind at the hospital, making sure my mother's transition into treatment went smoothly. Her room was on the third floor, and through the window I could see Silverton's downtown lights beginning to flicker on against the darkening sky.
I pulled a chair close to my mother's bed and watched her sleeping face.
"We're going to try again, Mom," I whispered. "Maybe this time will be different."
She didn't respond. She never did. But I sat there anyway, holding her hand until the nurse came to check on her and gently suggested I get some rest.