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Hands stuffed in her pockets to hide the tremble, Gia was stuck. She didn’t have experience with Alzheimer’s patients, nor had she prepared to be rejected. Emily had welcomed them with open arms the day they’d met. She’d assumed they’d receive a similar greeting that time. Not so.
“Emily.” Jennifer stepped out from behind her friends and kept going until she was facing the woman she’d come to see. If she were on a stage, she’d have been under the spotlight: front and center—nowhere to hide.
Gia wanted to melt into the wall and watch, to remove herself from the room and let whatever was going to happen, happen. Why had she thought this was a good idea? And damn. Jennifer could make an entrance. Had to be all those years in Hollywood.
Jennifer waited, her hands laced together and dangling in front of her body. She exuded patience and calmness. The Bloomberg anchors droned on about oil futures, and no one cared. “Emily,” she said once more.
Something about the tone of her voice or her presence in the room—or maybe just coincidental timing— caused Emily to look up from her project. She dropped the knitting needles to her lap and gazed at the surprise guest. Her dark eyes, which had looked glassy and unfocused, seemed to twinkle.
“Jennifer?”
“I am.”
“Is it really you?”
“It is.”
“What the hell took you so long? I’ve been waiting,” Emily said with the urgency of someone who’d been stood up for a date only to find out they hadn’t been stood up, but rather, fate had intervened. Fate had supplied the delay.
“I had a few errands to run.” Jennifer grinned, happy to play along. She’d put her nametag in her pocket—and pulled it out dramatically—proof she was who she said.
Emily was standing by then, and in no time, the two women were hugging in silence, save for the Bloomberg anchors suppling background noise—no longer needed. Gia wondered if Emily ran the TV to feel less alone. She’d done that herself when she had time on her hands and nothing but her sobriety to keep her company.
“I can’t believe this,” Gia whispered.
“I know.” Derrick leaned against the doorframe and watched the women hug in silence. “You did this.”
“No.Wedid this.”
“Okay, sure. But mostly, you did this. Look at them.”
Their embrace was strong, and Gia noticed Emily’s chin on Jennifer’s shoulder. Sixty years had evaporated, and they were back in an embrace they’d probably experienced hundreds of times before. “They’re beautiful.”
“They are,” Derrick agreed.
“This could’ve gone all kinds of wrong. Can you believe she remembered?” The whispering continued.
“I had a hunch she would. My grandpa remembered his youth so well. A bright spot in a horrible disease, I guess. Should we go play cards with the residents and give them some time?”
“Absolutely. I don’t know how to play cards, but—”
“I’ll teach you.”
“Jennifer’s right,” Gia said. “You’re so thoughtful. You’re going to make someone a great husband.”
“And you’re going to make someone a great wife—if that’s what you want, I mean. You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be.” Derrick backpedaled.
He’d told Gia he wanted to get married someday. She hadn’t said the same. And she wondered, did she want that? Domesticity? The same person, day in, day out, through ups and downs and struggles and victories? Watching Jennifer and Emily hold hands and chat with the familiarity only available to lovers, the answer appeared.
“Yeah. I do. Want to be a wife someday. Just because my mom fucked it up, doesn’t mean I will, right?”
“Not at all. We all create our own opportunities to fuck up,” Derrick laughed. “Come on, there’s a game of Texas Hold ’Em calling our names.”
“Is that a card game? ‘Cause I was terrible at holding onto anything in Texas.”
Derrick nodded. “You’re not in Texas anymore, sweetie. And I’m glad.”
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