have to do?”
“We have to go through the proper channels first.”
“And what happens to Ainslie while we’re going through channels? What if she dies while we’re going through channels?”
“It’s not dire, is it? She’s pretty stable, isn’t she?”
“Right now she is. She recovered amazingly fast when they removed her kidney, but the radiation is really harsh. I don’t want to even think about how sick she’s going to be if she has to do chemo.”
“What’s the chances?”
“I don’t know. They haven’t told us anything solid yet. I can hardly keep up with all the medicines and procedures and shit. Lauren’s the one who deals with all that. So, what if she does need chemo or something else? We’re talking tens of thousands of dollars, aren’t we?”
“Maybe hundreds of thousands. How have you paid for everything so far?”
“Most of the bills are outstanding. Everybody’s been cool about waiting on claims approval, but now that everything is denied, all the doctors and the hospital will be getting antsy.”
“Don’t pay for anything yourself yet. We’ll write all your healthcare providers that we’re appealing the denial. We’ll guarantee they’ll be paid, one way or another. It’ll buy us some more time. What kind of money do you have if this takes a while?”
“Savings. Kids’ college funds. I can sell my boat.” Emmett suddenly slammed his fist down on the tabletop. “It’s not right.”
“Lack of medical coverage is one of the main reasons people go bankrupt. Even people who have coverage, if they miss enough work they lose their jobs, then they lose their insurance. You’re not the only family this is hitting hard.”
“My father always said most people were only one major illness away from the poorhouse. I should have been more careful. I should have taken insurance more seriously, but I just always viewed it as another annoying expense.”
“Everybody loves insurance that pays, but when it doesn’t, well, now you know. Look, don’t go down the damn pity path and blame yourself. You can’t let this be about emotion. We’ve got to beat them at their game now.”
“You’re right.”
“Don’t think of me as your friend anymore. I’m your lawyer now. It’s my job to be logical. This is business.”
“Okay.”
“This company doesn’t want to get a bad rap for a child’s death, so we can play that card if we have to. Insurance companies hate bad press.”
“How long will it take to get a response to our appeal?”
“It should say in the handbook.”
“The handbook. More shit I don’t understand.”
“Bring it to me. I’ll read it for you.”
“What do you charge for all this?”
“Don’t worry about my bill right now. I’ll get on the appeal letter first thing Monday morning. But if I were you, I’d look into St. Jude Children’s Hospital. Just in case. You know that hospital in Tennessee? They treat kids who don’t have insurance.”
Emmett watched Larry neatly fold the denial letter into a pocket.
“What do people do who don’t have a friend like you?” he asked.
Larry shrugged his massive shoulders and finally took a sip of beer.
“You don’t want to know.”
CHAPTER 5
Focus
Lauren’s cart was wobbly and creaked along as she racked her brain for the item she had thought of in the car but neglected to scribble on the shopping list. She was unable to retain such minor things anymore, although she did have a hunch it was on the pickle and salad dressing aisle. Perhaps if she found that aisle something would jog her memory. Lauren whisked past the end displays, but the signage was poor. She was having trouble focusing in this unfamiliar store.
Lauren had driven inland a mile to a grocery she knew was far less expensive than the ones along the coastal highway where she normally shopped. She’d decided she should cut corners wherever possible, but now she was struggling to find what she needed. She headed down an aisle and stopped cold when the familiar powdery smell of baby products hit her nose. She reached for an amber shampoo bottle and flipped open the top. The aroma of bubbles and giggles flooded over her and she snapped the top down quickly. She picked up a package of diapers and squeezed them until their sweet chalky scent filled her with longing. A baby’s cry brought her back to reality, and she shoved the diapers onto the shelf. Tears rimmed her eyes as she tried to maneuver out of the cascade of baby products, but another cart, one with tiny arms flailing from an infant seat, blocked her passage.
She lost control then. Frustration, rage, fear, and baby envy rushed her, and she shoved past the startled mother and fought tears until she was safely in the produce section. She ached to turn back time. She wanted her girls to be the baby in her arms and her sweet nine-year-old again. If she had that chance she would figure out what went wrong. Her research had told her that Ainslie’s Wilms’ tumor most likely developed in the womb and there was no known cause. But a mother couldn’t help but question and the doctors were short on satisfactory answers. It seemed a spontaneous occurrence, but how could that be? There had to be a reason. Lauren believed there was always a reason.
She couldn’t turn off the questions. Had Ainslie’s illness resulted from something Lauren had done? Something she hadn’t done? Had it been fast food or lack of proper sleep? Chemicals in cleaning products or the wrong laundry detergent? Was there something in the pool water or the ocean that had contaminated her daughter?
And now she was willingly allowing her daughter to be poisoned with chemotherapy. The doctors had all warned Lauren she needed to be more enthusiastic about chemo, that therapy always worked better if patients believed it would work. Ainslie certainly took emotional cues from her. She knew she should be more supportive of this therapy, but watching her daughter disintegrate, literally, hair thinning and body growing gaunt before her eyes, made it impossible for Lauren to believe in the positive effects of the drugs they streamed into her daughter’s black-and-blue arms every other week.
Lauren headed to the bank of registers and checked out, blindly handing a credit card to the bored clerk. She refused help from the bag boy and smashed bread and chips as she flung the flimsy white bags on top of each other in the old Volvo’s trunk. She drove back toward the island with signs swimming in her vision as she fought back sobs. By the time she pulled into their drive she had regained some control of herself. It was a Saturday, and Emmett would expect to help carry the groceries up the steps, so she called him on her mobile.
She kept her sunglasses on so he wouldn’t be able to tell she had been weeping. They carried the first load up to the kitchen, where she noticed a large book open on the dining table with beautiful photographs of sailboats, powerboats, and yachts. It was a library book on how to restore wooden boats. Emmett saw her looking at the book and explained.
“I’m thinking about cleaning up Granddad’s boat.”
She began unloading the sacks of groceries, situating items in the proper slots in the open refrigerator door. The cool licked her arms as she stuffed frozen vegetables in the freezer.
When he saw she wasn’t going to offer an opinion, he began to explain.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. According to the Internet, there’s a big demand for classic powerboats. If she cleans up good, I could get a pretty penny for her.”
“You’d sell your grandfather’s boat?”
Lauren was glad he couldn’t see her clearly behind her sunglasses.
“Well,