Chapter 7 - Bruises That Don’t Match the Story
Dr. Elaine Porter was a geriatrician Graham hired independently.
She arrived without warning to Celeste.
That was deliberate.
Celeste was furious.
“She already has doctors.”
“She has specialists,” Graham said. “She needs someone to look at the whole picture.”
Dr. Porter spent ninety minutes with Ruth.
Alone for most of it.
She checked medication bottles, weight records, mobility, skin condition, cognition, blood pressure and hydration.
When she finished, she asked Graham to join her in the library.
Celeste tried to follow.
Dr. Porter stopped her.
“I’d like to speak with Mr. Hawthorne privately first.”
Celeste smiled.
“Of course.”
The door closed.
Dr. Porter did not sit.
“Your mother is underweight.”
“How badly?”
“Eleven pounds below the weight documented before her hospitalization.”
Graham swallowed.
“She’s been sick.”
“Yes. That could explain some of it.”
“Some?”
“She also shows signs consistent with inadequate nutritional intake.”
His stomach turned.
“Starvation?”
“I did not say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That someone needs to determine why meals were regularly missed.”
She opened her notes.
“There are bruises on both upper arms at different stages of healing.”
Graham looked down.
“Could they come from transfers?”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“The distribution concerns me.”
She continued.
“Your mother’s medications also deserve review.”
“Why?”
“Her evening sedative dose is unusually high for someone of her weight and condition.”
“Dr. Mercer prescribed it.”
“Not according to the pharmacy record I obtained.”
Graham looked up.
“What?”
“The original prescription was half the current dose.”
His mouth went dry.
“Who changed it?”
“That is a question for the dispensing pharmacy and whoever was managing her medication.”
Celeste.
Graham said the name only in his mind.
Dr. Porter watched him.
“I’m required to tell you that I have concerns about possible elder mistreatment.”
The phrase sounded clinical.
Almost gentle.
It was not.
“What happens now?”
“I recommend a formal assessment, review of medications, private access to your mother, and documentation of any injuries. Depending on what she reports, reporting obligations may apply.”
“She reports my wife hurt her.”
Dr. Porter’s expression did not change.
“Then take her seriously.”
Those four words pierced something in Graham.
He realized how desperately he wanted a professional to tell him there was another explanation.
Instead, he had received an instruction so basic it felt like an indictment.
Take her seriously.
After Dr. Porter left, Celeste cornered him in the hall.
“You brought a stranger into this house to examine Ruth like evidence.”
“She’s a doctor.”
“She’s a liability consultant.”
“She’s a geriatrician.”
“You’re building a case.”
Graham looked at her.
“Should I not be?”
Celeste’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
Upstairs, Mara was changing Ruth’s cardigan.
She found another mark near the shoulder blade.
Older.
Yellowing.
Ruth saw her expression.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Look guilty.”
“I should have done more.”
“You did what you could.”
“No.”
Mara knelt.
“I kept telling myself if I stayed, at least you weren’t alone.”
Ruth touched her cheek.
“That mattered.”
Mara’s eyes filled.
“Not enough.”
A knock sounded.
Graham entered.
He crouched in front of Ruth.
“Dr. Porter thinks your sedative dose was doubled.”
Ruth nodded.
“You knew?”
“I knew I felt less like myself after September.”
“Who gave you the medication?”
“Sometimes Denise.”
“And sometimes?”
Ruth looked at him.
He already knew.
“Celeste.”
Graham stood.
The room seemed suddenly too small.
Then Ruth added, “There is something else.”
He turned.
“She wanted two doctors.”
“Two doctors for what?”
Ruth’s eyes held his.
May you like
“To say I could no longer decide anything for myself.”
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