What is Love Anyway?
By Simahoyo
(Everyone is worried about Maura, but Jane decides to do something, even though she can't leave the stakeout she is on.)
Constance Isles was exhausted. She was happy to done with the hospital, and home again, but she had 2 more hours before she could have another pain pill, and the dull ache had turned itself up to a throbbing pain, which made her wince with each one. If she had not learned how to grin and bear disagreeable things over the years, she would have given into the throbbing. Her husband had been very sweet about setting her up in their most comfortable chair, and surrounding her with everything she would need without having to use the walker she had named, "Hobbes", after a favorite philosopher. But, he had run out to get her prescriptions and some poutine to comfort her spirit. It was then the cell phone rang. When she looked at it, she wrinkled her brow. Jane Rizzoli?
She shrugged one shoulder, and answered the phone.
"Hello, Jane. How are you?"
"Worried about Maura. Something happened, she won't answer her phone, or the door. She's been very upset lately, and I'm pretty sure she needs you."
"What has been going on?". She heartrate started to speed up.
"I promised not to tell you. I'm sorry. She'd never speak to me again if I did. Although I'd almost prefer it if I knew she was okay."
"I've got to get there. I can call a cab, but I can barely walk. Sometimes, she turns off the phone and locks herself in her bedroom...oh dear, I though we had finished with this. I have a key. Could you meet me?"
"I want to, but I'm on a stake out. I can't leave. Is there someone...Mr. Isles?"
"He will be out for 2 hours. I'll find a way. Jane. My daughter is not the only stubborn member of this family. Don't worry."
Now she was worried. Constance phoned the cab company, explained the situation, and asked them to hurry. It arrived within 15 minutes. She had left a note, and with the help of the cabbie, got to the cab, and inside. It was another half hour before she pulled up to Maura's place, and the cabbie helped her to the front door. She paid him, and used her cell to phone Maura. No answer. Maura's emotional storms had once shaken the entire Beacon Hill house, but she had calmed down considerably as she matured. This was an unpleasant trip to the past. Constance managed to get the door open without sounding the alarm and frightening the neighbors. She worked her way over the threshold.
"Maura? Cheri? It's Mother!", she called. It was silent. In the past, she would have run up the stairs to the bedroom. Now the stairs loomed like the Matterhorn. She stared at them, remembering that she would let nothing defeat her. She used, "Hobbes" to get to the bottom of the stairs, turned it around, and sat on the bottom step. Using all her strength, Constance could just pull herself up to the next step. Then, hanging on to the step, she pulled her legs up behind her. Then she stopped to catch her breath. Using this system, she managed to get halfway up the stairs. Now, if she fell, she was in real danger. She rested as long as she dared, gritted her teeth and started up the next step. Finally, at the top, she crawled along the hall until she reached Maura's bedroom door. Her brain flashed back to the many times she had knocked on her daughter's door. She used the same method again, knocking. And heard the same words as in the past.
"Go away!"
"Maura Evangeline Isles, this is you mother."
Maura's voice sounded groggy and thick. "Mom?"
"Open the door this instant, young lady."
She waited. She could hear Maura crossing the room, and the door inched open. A look of horror crossed her face. "Mom! How did you get here? Are you hurt? Oh my God, let me help you."
Constance felt her daughter's hands pulling her up, helping her into the room, and seating her on the bed.
"I'm the most selfish..."
"Stop. I'm here because I love you and I was worried. Everyone has been trying to reach you." She put her fingers under Maura's chin and lifted her face. You've been crying–quite a bit. What happened?"
Maura burst into tears again. Constance held her in her arms and let her cry. In time her daughter would confide in her. For now, she just had to be there for her. She guessed she was not too bad at the mother thing.
