Doctors studied her scans with puzzled faces.
“Everything looks normal,” one neurologist said quietly to Leonard in the hallway. “No tumors. No inflammation. No abnormal activity.”
Leonard rubbed his eyes, unshaven and exhausted.
“Then why is she screaming every night,” he asked with a broken voice.
The doctor had no answer.
Leonard knew how to solve problems. He had built a company from a dorm room into an empire. He knew how to negotiate, how to dominate markets, how to buy solutions. But his mother’s suffering did not care about money. It laughed at it.
On the worst night of all, rain battered the tall windows like thrown stones. Catherine lay rigid, her breathing shallow, her skin pale as candle wax. Leonard sat beside her holding her hand, feeling how cold it had become.
“Stay with me Mom,” he whispered. “Please stay.”
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and frightened.
“There is something here,” she murmured with difficulty. “Something heavy. It will not let me rest.”
Leonard kissed her forehead. “It is only pain. The doctors will fix it.”