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The interest in her voice was something Anita hadn’t heard before.
“She takes care of the new mothers and their babies.”
“Labor and delivery,” Wyatt added.
“She works most weekends, so I never see her,” Mr. Davis said, not complaining, but sounding like he missed his granddaughter.
Anita wondered where the parents were—the son or daughter of Mr. Davis?
“Paula saw you last month,” Wyatt said.
Mr. Davis frowned as if he were trying to remember. Then his brow relaxed, and he turned back to the Scrabble game. “Want to join us on the next round?”
“Sure,” Wyatt said with a barely concealed sigh. “I’ll get some drinks.” He rose and paused. “Does everyone want a drink? Punch or water?”
“Punch,” both Mr. Davis and Carly said at once.
“I’ll have some water,” Anita said.
Wyatt tilted his head toward her. She took the hint and said, “I’ll help.”
As they walked toward the refreshment table together, he looked at her. “Did you ask my grandpa about Susan? Or did he start talking about her on his own?”
Anita wasn’t sure how to respond at first. Was Wyatt accusing her of something? “He barely brought her up when you arrived. My daughter and I aren’t asking him those types of questions.”
He must have caught the defensive tone in her voice because he paused in his step. “I appreciate you spending time with Gramps. He seems to enjoy the company and playing games with someone other than me. But I don’t want his false memories encouraged.”
Anita didn’t answer for a moment. The intensity of his green eyes told her that Wyatt wasn’t just concerned his grandfather was dealing with memory loss, or false memory creation, but he was worried about something deeper.
They reached the table, and she poured a cup of punch for Carly, then looked over at him. “You know, you can find out pretty easily. Wouldn’t the city library have copies of old yearbooks? Why don’t you look up your grandfather’s class?”
Wyatt folded his arms, a frown marring his face. “That’s actually a good idea. But I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“Because you don’t think Susan is real?”
“He never mentioned her before,” Wyatt said firmly. “And the postcard wasn’t even addressed to him.”
“What are you worried about? That she’s real or that your grandfather is dealing with memory confusion?”
Wyatt glanced over at his grandfather. “Either one, I guess. He’s been through a lot in life, and I don’t want him hurt any more.”
Anita supposed there was a lot of depth to that statement. She wondered why Wyatt thought that his grandfather’s memories of an old friend would hurt him.
“I think you should find out once and for all,” Anita said. “It would put your mind at rest, and you’d know how to better respond to the stories he’s sharing.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Wyatt said, studying her. “I just hate that all of his conversations turn toward a woman we’ve never heard about instead of my own grandmother.”
“Maybe it’s how he’s coping?” she suggested. “Thinking of his life before he met your grandmother?”
“Maybe.” Wyatt turned toward the refreshment table and gathered a plate of cookies and the rest of the drinks.
Anita walked with him back to where Carly was apparently winning in Scrabble against Mr. Davis.
When Wyatt joined in the game, it moved much faster, and Mr. Davis started laying down more complicated words. Maybe he’d been holding back in his playing with Carly.
By the time his granddaughter showed up, he had beat them all more than once.
“Hi, Gramps,” Paula said, bending to kiss him on the cheek.
