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“There’s been a marked difference in her memory from when I started just four weeks ago. She’s forgetting things I tell her, and at times she stubbornly insists on doing things that are contraindicated with her condition. She pushes herself, and there have been times when she seemed to be…sort of not there. Really zoned out. I’m very concerned.”
Whit’s eyebrows rose. “Sloane does have a tendency to push herself. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to bring you on. I’ll have a talk with her. Tell her she needs to allow you to set the pace for her.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“I know you thought you’d be out of here in a few weeks, but now with Sloane’s flare it’s turned into over a month. We really need you here. I hope it’s not a problem. I imagine it can be difficult being away from home.”
“It’s perfectly fine. I’ve come to care about Sloane and am happy to be here as long as necessary. I’m quite used to adapting to new surroundings as a home healthcare worker, although I must say they’re usually not as beautiful as this.”
“Good. So you’re comfortable, then.”
She gave a slight laugh. “I think ‘comfortable’ might be an understatement, Senator. The room is not only comfortable, but sumptuous, and the art on the walls is exquisite. I find myself studying the paintings as if I’m in a museum.”
Whit looked intrigued. “Really. Which ones in particular?”
“I absolutely love the one of a New York street scene by Florine Stettheimer. I’d never heard of her, but when I looked her up, I was impressed.”
“That’s one of Sloane’s favorites. We often talked about art at dinner. I miss that,” Whit said, giving her a sad smile. “I’m glad you suggested having dinner together. It’s nice to have company.”
“I know how hard it is when someone is ill. But hopefully, Sloane will be well enough to join you very soon.”
Whit frowned, his forehead etched with worry lines. “I hope so. I know she’s been through this in the past, but it seems worse this time, especially with what you’re telling me now.”
“Sometimes this kind of flare can take a long time to resolve, and the surgery certainly hasn’t helped. It’s an assault on the body even if you’re in good health, but with lupus it’s worse. She’s been reluctant to take the stronger pain medicine, but I’m trying to convince her otherwise. The stress caused by the pain isn’t good for her.”
“Maybe I’ll say something to her. She’s always believed in a stiff upper lip, but if you think that could compromise her recovery…”
Athena nodded. “Normally I would advise a patient to avoid taking opioid painkillers—they can be very addictive. But the pain from her hip surgery, coupled with the lupus flare, is too much for anyone.”
He took a sip of water and put the goblet on a sculpted coaster, then lifted the linen napkin, dabbing the corner of his mouth. “My wife’s a trouper. She’s been dealing with this disease for a long time, but I take your point. Maybe if she realizes the sooner she gets better, the sooner she can get back to work, then she’ll consider taking the pain meds.”
Athena forced a sympathetic expression on her face. “It’s very hard for her not to work right now. I’m doing my best to take care of emails and admin things for her, but she keeps asking Brianna to send her updates every week. I heard her talking to Brianna about being worried that some of the shelters will suffer if she’s not able to disburse funds.” Athena often eavesdropped on Sloane’s conversations by hovering outside her door. But when she’d tried to find out more from Brianna, the woman had stonewalled her.
Whit waved a hand. “I’ll talk to her about it. She needs to focus on getting better, not worrying about the foundation right now. There are some projects that need her sign-off for funding. She’s the only one who can disburse money right now.”
“Can’t she give you the authority to act on her behalf? It would be one less thing for her to worry about.”
“I’ll talk to her about doing that. I’m sure she appreciates having you look after her so well. I knew when I married Sloane that she was ill. Robert, her first husband, was a good friend of mine. He would confide in me how much he worried about her. He used to have to remind her to take it easy during her flares. I need to do the same.”
Athena wanted to know more. She’d read all about the shooting tragedy two years ago, but she wanted to hear the details from him. “It must have been very hard on you…what happened…” Her voice trailed off.
Whit stared at her for a long moment. “ ‘Hard’ is an understatement. You can’t imagine the guilt I have to live with, knowing that Robert died saving me.”
She looked down at her plate and twisted the napkin in her lap, hoping to appear ill at ease. “You’re right. I can’t imagine. I didn’t mean—”
He put up a hand. “No, it’s okay. It’s awkward. Most people don’t know what to say. I want you to understand that Peg was a very troubled woman.”
Athena leaned forward.
“Such a terrible tragedy. And to lose your best friend as well as your wife. Was Sloane close to your late wife?”
“We were all close, but Peg put up a lot of walls. We vacationed together and spent a lot of time at their various homes. But she didn’t know how bad Peg’s drinking had become.”
“That must have been so difficult for you. Had your wife always had a problem?”
“She liked her drink. It got worse as the years went on, but I never would have dreamed this was how it would end. I still have nightmares about it,” he said with a frown. “I would give anything to go back to that weekend and change things.”
“I understand. We all have moments in our past we’d like to go back and change.”