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“Hot water should be good now,” I say, then I head downstairs to find something to do.
Athena finds me in the kitchen, sweeping.
“Hey, can I get you to do that in her room? There is so much dust I didn’t want to kick it all up in the air while she was in there.”
“Yeah, did you leave her in the bath?”
“She is sitting on the toilet while the tub fills. She seems more with it now that she took her pill, and it pulled her out of whatever episode she was having when we got here. But just in case, I don’t want to leave her alone in there.”
“Probably a good call. I’ll go take care of it now.”
She moves to go back upstairs but stops and turns back around to face me, her arms wrapped around her middle. I can’t see her fire, her fight. She looks sad, and for the first time I have seen her, small.
“Heph, did Paris kill my mother because I was looking for her? Was this my fault?”
“No.” I don’t know why, but I can’t lie to her, not about this. “If Paris did this, it’s on him. Not you. Maybe Freya should have told us. I don’t know why she didn’t. Her reasons were her own, but it doesn’t justify her death. I promise we will find out what happened.”
She nods and goes upstairs. While I resist the urge to follow her and pull her into a hug. I have been a complete ass to her while she was grieving the loss of a mother she never got to know. I haven’t earned the right to comfort her. Yet.
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Athena
Ellen and I keep chatting about this and that. I don’t want to upset her further. It seems when I upset her, she slowly slips back into madness. I need her to be calm and happy. She is telling me about Paris when he was a child, so full of life and so smart. Always the picture of a well-behaved young man in public, saving his emotional outbursts for home.
I help her out of the tub and into a nice clean dressing gown made of soft cotton. I then get her back to her chair and comfortable before I approach what we are going to do from here.
“Ellen,” I start.
“Mother,” she corrects.
“Mother,” I say, ignoring the lump forming in my throat. “I’m afraid Paris may not be back for a while.”
“Oh, is he on a trip?”
“Yes.” I give her a smile. “Something like that. It all happened so suddenly, and we aren’t sure when he will be back. I don’t feel right leaving you here alone.”
“Oh, you’re a sweet thing, but I am sure my Paris wouldn’t leave me for too long.”
“I’m sure you are right.” I place my hand on her shoulder. “But for my peace of mind, would you be open to letting me put you up somewhere nice, where the staff can see to your needs? Just until Paris comes back.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely, dear.” She smiles at me, and I feel sick to my stomach. I hate not telling her the full truth, but she isn’t well, and I don’t want something to happen that I can’t safely handle.
“Okay. I am going to make a few calls. Why don’t you watch your show?” I turn the TV back on and step out of the room. Heph is waiting for me.
“She okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, and she is good with going to a facility until Paris is back.”
“Shady Pines?” he asks.
“No, I was thinking Elysian Fields. My dad’s mom was there the last year of her life, and it was really nice. She liked it, even if she ran the staff ragged,” I say while typing on my phone, looking for the number. “Wait.” I look up at Heph with wide eyes. “Was that a The Golden Girls reference?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” He turns and heads down the hallway.
Oh My God. Heph likes The Golden Girls. He would, he is such a Dorothy. I smile to myself as I find the number and make the call, arranging for them to prepare the nicest suite for Ellen and get her medical records. I give them the name of her doctor on her pill bottle and my credit card to prepay for the next three months. If we are all wrong, it will take at least that long to refurbish the house as an apology. It is the least we can do. And if we are right, then three months should give us enough time to make a plan.
I help Ellen pack a few things, mostly worn slippers, threadbare dressing gowns, and her rollers that are older than I am. She makes me call down to the facility a few times to make sure they have a rocker and TV, even after I assure her each room will. The room I am moving her to is more like her own apartment. She will have a bedroom, dining room, living room, and a kitchenette with an electric kettle, a microwave, refrigerator and things of that nature. Though I have also paid for a meal package that will have her food brought in from the main kitchens for each meal. It takes less than two hours for the front desk to call me back saying her suite is ready. Her doctor’s office is sending over files, and her doctor will be in to do a checkup in the morning. All that is left is to arrange transport. They do offer to come pick her up, but I decline, saying she needs to arrive in style. Once again, the Godwin name does me well, and this process wasn’t anywhere as difficult as it could have been.
