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I made a right-hand turn onto the gravel driveway which led to our small farmhouse. It was situated on twenty-five acres of—not so—prime farmland. In his hay days, my father planted crops he then sold at a local market to supplement their income. Unfortunately, when his illness took hold, the land had become unused and overgrown. Now, it was simply a reminder of all we’d lost.
Mom was on the front porch in her rickety old rocking chair with an array of yarn at her side. She loved to crochet, had even attempted to teach me the craft years ago until we figured out I was all thumbs.
“Hey.” I smiled. “How’s he doing today?”
When I’d gotten the text from River early in the morning, asking me to meet her at Emory’s, my parents hadn’t been awake.
“It’s a good day, sweetheart.” She returned my grin.
Charles and Millicent James, Charlie and Millie to their friends, married young and after years of trying, were never able to have children of their own. When they stumbled upon the opportunity to adopt a six-month-old baby, they jumped headfirst into the deep end. Even though she had been forty-two and he was ten years her senior, they didn’t care. According to Mom, “Age was an insignificant number when matters of the heart are involved.” I thanked God each and every day for that blessing.
“I’m glad.”
Climbing the weathered steps to join her, I mentally added them to the ever-growing list of repairs which needed to be done. At one time, the old, two-story house and the grounds surrounding it were well-maintained, but it all changed shortly before my eighteenth birthday.
Mom, an English teacher at the high school, had been in the middle of her last class of the day when she received a distressing visit from Chief Matthews. He explained how my father, who was a forest ranger with the Department of Natural Resources, had taken a small group of tourists out on one of the local trails for a nature hike. The group returned to the trailhead without their guide and immediately dialed 911 once they had a good signal.
When the police and several other forest rangers arrived at the scene, they detailed how my dad seemed confused about twenty minutes into their walk. One of the tourists questioned whether they were lost and it was like a light switch flipped. He became agitated to the point they feared for their safety. Ultimately, one man stayed behind while the rest went to get help.
Chief Matthews said it took about an hour to calm him down enough to transport him to the local hospital.
In the short amount of time it took for her to pull me out of class and drive us to the emergency room, Dad had to be sedated for his own safety. The devastating blow, however, came two days later when we were given his diagnosis.
Alzheimer’s disease.
“Whatcha working on?” I pointed to the mess of yarn in her lap as I leaned against the wooden railing.
“Nancy is organizing a fundraiser.” She continued to crochet without missing a stitch.
Nancy Smith and her husband, Pete, had been friends with my parents for years. It was probably one of the only reasons Pete gave me a job working in his hardware store. Well that, and they were my honorary aunt and uncle, since both my folks were only children, and I loved them very much. They were among the few people in town who knew about our situation.
“These will be baby blankets for the labor and delivery ward if I can ever get them finished.”
I felt the color drain from my face with her words.Baby. I thought about the little test kit sitting under my bathroom sink, wondering how much longer I’d be able to ignore it. Then I thought about Alec.
We were careless that night but after months of secretly crushing on him, I was elated to find he returned my feelings. Or so I thought, until he opened his stupid, oh-so-gorgeous mouth, turning my fanciful dreams into a pitiful nightmare.
“Quinny?” She touched my hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Just tired. I think I’m gonna go grab a short nap if you don’t need me for anything.”
“You sure?”
“About the nap?” I teased. Leaning down, I placed a kiss on her cheek. “Positive. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you too.”
Making my way through the great room, past the outdated kitchen, I climbed the winding staircase, careful to avoid certain places which groaned and moaned under pressure in case my father was asleep. My room was the last one on the right at the end of the hall and as I closed the door behind me, the reality of the day’s events crept in. I’d put up a good front, like I always did, but now that I was alone, I could finally admit how terrified I’d been.
The first tear fell before I was able to stop it. Followed quickly by another. Perching on the edge of my queen-size bed, I allowed myself a few brief moments of weakness before slapping my finely built walls back into place. I was the strong one, I had to be. There was no time in my life to be anything else.
After we’d received Dad’s initial diagnosis, a lot of things started to make sense; like how he’d sometimes call me Millie when he was frustrated, or how he’d started misplacing his keys and his wallet. He’d also begun repeating stories at the dinner table, acting as if it was the first time he’d ever told them to us. Neither my mom nor I thought much of it, we just figured he was under an enormous amount of pressure at work. Maybe if we’d insisted he see a doctor, we could’ve slowed the progression of this horrible disease.
No. I refused to dwell on the what-ifs. It was bad enough Alzheimer’s was robbing my father of his precious memories, I wouldn’t let it take mine as well.
Crawling under the covers, my eyes drifted close as thoughts of a surly, gray-eyed del Toro filled my dreams.
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