“I’m sorry, Tyler. It’s my grandmother. She has dementia. That was her living facility. I don’t know what happened, but they said she fell and she was taken to the ER.”
Jo’s voice shakes as she explains the situation. I already knew from Penny, and the conversation I overheard my first day at her house, that her grandmother lives in a memory care facility due to dementia.
Gently taking the keys from her trembling fingers, I lock up the house and guide her to the driveway, placing a hand to the small of her back. At her car, I open the passenger door and motion for her to get in. Jo’s eyes narrow and she looks from the seat to me.
“I’m driving, Josie. You’re pretty worked up. It’s not safe for you to drive like this.” My head dips, motioning once more for her to get in, and without protest, she does.
Rounding the car, I adjust the driver’s seat and start the engine.
“Where to?”
“She’s at Creekwood Hospital. It’s about thirty minutes from here.”
I type the information into my GPS, and clip my phone into the holder on her dash.
“Shit. I’m out of gas,” Josie curses. My eyes go to her dash where the low fuel light glows orange.
Glancing over at her, I see that her eyes are brimming with unshed tears. “Jo,” I begin calmly. “Listen to me. I’ve got you. We’ll get gas and head there. Your grandmother is in good hands, okay?”
Jo nods, eyes fixed on something in the distance. Heading to the closest gas station, I fill it up and we’re quickly back on the road, following the directions the GPS indicates.
Thinking Jo might want some music to occupy her mind, I grab my phone at the first light, swiping to my favorite playlist. It’s an eclectic mix of classic rock, country, Americana, and folk. A couple of Mumford and Sons songs play, and I hum along, lightly tapping my steering wheel. Patty Griffin comes on next, and we fall silent, listening to “Heavenly Day.”
Beside me, Jo sniffles, and I glance over to see her bat the wetness from her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Ignore me,” she says. “I used to never cry. “‘Tough as nails, that one,’ my grandfather would say. Seems like lately I’m nothing but a leaky faucet.”
Taking her hand in mine, I thread our fingers together, bringing her hand to my lips to kiss her knuckles.
“I don’t mind if you leak.” Jo huffs a small laugh at my response. “I think you’re human with human emotions. I’m serious, Jo. Whatever it is you’re feeling right now, I can handle it.”
Eyes back on the road, I drive, not letting go of Jo’s warm hand, wondering how I’ve gone my whole life without this woman.
“Do you wanna talk about your grandmother?” I ask, piercing our quiet bubble.
“This is one of the very few times where I don’t wanna talk at all. Distract me. Tell me more about yourself.” Jo’s words are hollow, and I glance over at her. She’s looking straight ahead, a distant look in her eyes.
“What do you wanna know?”
Jo lifts one shoulder, letting it fall. “I know we’ve talkedabout this some, but what’s life been like since that fateful night?”
Taking a few seconds to gather my thoughts, I tell her, “Busy. When I told you I was committed to Austin’s career, I meant it. He took off, and I was occupied keeping all the plates spinning for him. You probably know this, but handling his career was no walk in the park.” I release a sigh. “But failing him wasn’t an option. I don’t like failing at anything. So I did what I had to do and busted my ass for him.”
I feel, rather than see, Jo’s eyes on me.
“Clark,” she deadpans.
My lips quirk at her nickname for me.
“I bet you’ve been that way your whole life,” Jo says.
“Been what way?”
“A fixer. Committing to what you care about, and doing everything in your power to make a difference.”
I take in a breath and let it out slowly. “I assume you know some of Austin’s story?”
Jo nods, so I continue. “My mom and dad had enough going on with Cassie and Austin moving in with us, helping them heal from what they’d been through. The three of us were tight as kids. Closer than most cousins. Watching their struggles, seeing the effect it had on them…well, it did something to me.” I pause to gather my thoughts. “Mom was always crying. I can’t tell you how many nights I’d overhear Dad comforting her after an especially hard day with Austin, and I hated how powerless that made me feel. I know now that Austin was broken in ways I didn’t understand back then. I was twelve when they moved in, and what I did understand was that I was old enough to carry my weight around the house. I’d always been a responsible kid, but when they moved in, it’s like I kicked it into high gear. I remember the exact day when I made a conscious decision to work harder, be better, fix what I could. And that’s what I did. I threw myself into chores, school, everything.”
