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“I can’t imagine watching Elvis’s rise to fame like that,” Grant said. “And the Beatles!”
“I didn’t care for the Beatles,” Agatha said, sniffing. “I was a wife and mother by then. What time did I have for them?”
“Of course,” Grant said.
“It was a different time,” Agatha went on. “By the time I was Nellie’s and Frankie’s age, I had two babies!”
“We did, too,” Grant said, catching Katrina’s eye in the mirror.
“I suppose it’s not bad,” Agatha continued. “Young women have more time to figure things out.”
Katrina puffed out her cheeks. If she’d told her mother she needed “more time to figure things out” forty years ago, Agatha would have said she was a fool.
“Sophie came by a few times this week,” Agatha said. “I told her again she can use the house for her wedding.”
Katrina winced. Just hearing Sophie’s name felt like a dagger through her heart. In truth, she hadn’t seen her once since the incident at the hospital a month ago. Katrina could still hear what she’d said to Sophie, ringing in her ears. “Not this again. Not this again.”
She’d spoken to Sophie without love. With judgment. With anger. Katrina still hadn’t found the nerve to apologize. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that she still couldn’t trust her. Too much had happened. There had already been a pregnancy. History was repeating itself, and it terrified Katrina. It felt as though they’d jumped on the same horrible roller coaster. It wasn’t clear if they would make it to the other side this time.
“I told you, Mom,” Katrina said, not unkindly. “Sophie can’t get married there. We’re selling the house.”
Agatha pretended not to hear. She remained quiet until they pulled into the parking lot of the nursing home, where Grant stalled by the door to allow Katrina to scramble out, unfold the wheelchair, and help her mother shift gently into it. She then turned the wheelchair around and headed inside.
The nursing home had maybe three times the number of Valentine’s decorations as the hospital. Hearts were strung around every surface; they hung from ceiling fans and along fireplaces. Residents were decorated with hearts around their necks or pinned to their chests. Both regular and low-sugar candy was on offer in several little bowls. As they strolled past, Grant grabbed a handful of Hershey’s kisses and winked at Katrina.
“You’re still a kid,” Katrina said in a laugh-whisper.
One of the main nurses led them to Agatha’s new residence. An apartment-style home with a kitchenette, a large bathroom with a rail, a television, two sofas, two armchairs, and an enormous bookshelf in which Katrina herself had aligned more than two hundred of Agatha’s books from home. Several of them she’d taken from her father’s study—including the ones he’d written himself.
Agatha stared at the collection of Calvin’s books for a little while, then reached out to slide her finger along one of the spines. Her eyes sparkled with tears.
“We think you’ll be happy here,” the head nurse told Agatha, clasping her hands. “If you need anything, Agatha, you have to tell us. It’s our job to make you happy.”
“It’s time for coffee and cake,” the nurse announced. “Everyone gathers in the main room to eat and chat. There’s tea and low-sugar cake for those watching carbs and caffeine.We can accommodate anything.” She smiled at Katrina. “Family members are welcome, too.”
Agatha looked fearful, not unlike Sophie on her first day of kindergarten. It was clear that Katrina had to push her a little. She had to help her feel comfortable.
“Let’s go, Mom,” Katrina said. “I’d love a slice of cake.”
“You aren’t twisting my arm,” Grant joked.
Agatha insisted on doing her makeup another time before they went to the common room. Katrina and Grant sat quietly in the main room as Agatha retreated into the bathroom to apply lipstick, eyeliner, and eye shadow. You couldn’t see any of her bruises when she emerged. It was miraculous.
Katrina wheeled Agatha to the common room, where, twenty-five people were already stationed around the room, eating tiny slices of carrot and chocolate cake, sipping coffee and tea, and chatting. Just from the doorway, Katrina recognized upward of fifteen people. Agatha’s eyes brightened.
“Henry?” she cried as they drew closer. “I had no idea you were here!”
The man named Henry smiled mischievously. “Agatha Whittaker? I haven’t seen you in ten years. Where have you been?”
“I should ask you the same,” Agatha teased. “I assumed you left the island with that city wife of yours.”
Henry shook his head. “She went back to the city without me, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear,” Agatha said.
Henry cackled and slapped his thigh. “I was happy to see her go! Good riddance is what I said the day she left. She took a good deal of my inheritance, but it was worth it to never have to say her name again.”
Agatha grinned. It was as though they were a couple of kids on the playground, cracking jokes.
