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Audrey’s eyes, instantly hooded in worry, darted from him to the dogs to Tess. “Do you think—”
“I think there’s nothing wrong food won’t cure.” Her face relaxed. “Can you stay a few minutes? I’ll show you my apartment.” He pointed to the door in the wall that cut the garage in half.
“Put the puppy down, Tess.” She shook her head. “We can’t stay now. Mom’s in the car, and she was starting to get antsy. I need to get her home and get her fed.”
“Oh, sure.” He’d witnessed Helen’s restless behavior at the Labor Day picnic.
“But she takes a sedative and goes to bed around seven.” Audrey had her daughter by the hand and was moving out the door. “Maybe we’ll walk down and check on the dogs then?”
She was coming back? Tonight? He tamped down the enthusiasm in his voice that would only scare her away. “Sure. Feel free to come anytime.”
“Oh, by the way,” Audrey called over her shoulder. “Didn’t know if you’d want one, but there’s a doggy door in one of those sacks. The receipt’s with it. Just take it back if you don’t want it.”
A doggy door. She’d thought of everything. He grinned and waved as the car backed out of his drive.
Rummaging through the bags, he also found a food dish and a water bowl. He emptied one of the cans into the bowl and put it down beside mom dog, and she gobbled it up in about three bites. He reached for another can, but thought better of it. He’d seen starvation before. Too much food too quickly would only be thrown back up until the stomach adjusted. “Keep that down and I’ll give you more later.”
The dog’s expression went from expectant to resigned as if she understood precisely what he’d said.
He found the pet door in the largest bag. The contraption wasn’t just one of those swinging types. This was high-tech, with a sensor attached to the dog’s collar—also provided by Audrey—which emitted a signal that unlocked the pet door. It was pure genius, as it kept any other critters—opossums, skunks and raccoons, which were everyday sights in these parts—from being able to wander in, drawn by the scent of the food.
Their conversation from the night of the picnic came back to him. She still hadn’t given him an answer or a smile. Still hadn’t taken him up on his offer of friendship. But the dog had given them a second thing to share in their lives—Tess being the first.
“Share.” He squatted down beside the dog. “Might be a good name for you.” He gave a chuckle. “And if I give it a little twist and spell it C-H-E-R, she’ll be none the wiser...until I tell her differently.”
Cher licked his hand.
He picked up the pet door and looked at the directions for installation. They required a hole to be cut through his dad’s new garage door.
He was a dead man.
* * *
“HERE’S YOUR MEDICINE, MOM.” The pink pill Audrey held out was so small it hardly seemed possible it could contain a full night of sedation.
Her mom shook her head and waved her away. “I don’t want any, thank you. I’m full.”
“This is your medicine.” Audrey nudged her with the glass. “The pill helps you sleep.”
“I’m not sleepy.” Her mom crossed her arms tightly across her chest.
Although she tried to keep everything related to her mom on as much of a schedule as possible, Audrey had to be flexible and ready for whatever came up. Her mom had never refused any of her medicine before, but this could be the start of a new behavior she’d have to deal with. Hoping her mom would see it and take it on her own, she set the pill on the table along with the water glass. “I’ll leave it right here. Maybe you’ll want it in a minute.”
“Tell your father I need to speak with him.” Her mom glanced around the room, a worried look pinching her petite face. “And you need to call your sister in for supper.”
“Dad’s busy right now,” Audrey said, following the suggestion the doctor gave her to not engage Mom in upsetting dialogue unless she specifically asked if the family members were dead. “And Callie’s already eaten.” After years of hardly ever discussing Win with anyone, since no one in Florida had known her or brought her up, it was almost therapeutic to discuss her so openly and so often. But calling her Callie would always feel off.
Tess came into the kitchen with her jacket on. “Are you getting sleepy yet, Grandma?”
Audrey smiled behind the refrigerator door at Tess’s eagerness to go check on the dogs, but could she be any more transparent? She put the milk in its assigned place, where her mom could find it easily.
“There she is.” Her mom pointed to the chair beside her. “You need to eat your supper. Now sit down.”
Tess cut her eyes up to Audrey. “Um... I’m not hungry?”
“You must eat something or you won’t be allowed to go back outside to play.”
Audrey grabbed a bag of baby carrots before she closed the door and put a few of them on a saucer, which she placed in front of Tess. “Eat your carrots and you can have a cookie.” She pointed to the pill. “You need to take your medicine, Mom.”
“I’ve been asked to play.” Her mom got up and strode to the piano. Within a few seconds the house was filled with Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu.
Audrey’s heart danced to the wild rhythm of the piece. How could her mom’s memory, so ravaged by disease, still allow her fingers to move at such speed with such precision? One of those good things in the world Mark had spoken of, she supposed.
Mark had done a good thing this afternoon. Actually, they had done a good thing together, and since Mom seemed so restless this evening, maybe a walk would do her good. They could check on the dogs. She finished tidying the kitchen while her mom played her heart out and even stood and took a bow when Audrey and Tess applauded at the end.
“How about a walk this evening, Mom?” Audrey suggested.
Tess pumped her fist. “Yes!”
Her mom smiled. “A stroll would be lovely. Ask your father to come along with us, will you?”
Audrey grabbed a couple of sweaters from the closet as Tess grabbed her grandma’s hand and pulled her out the front door. “He’s busy right now,” Tess said, throwing a questioning look Audrey’s way. She nodded, assuring her daughter the pat answer was the right thing.
The sun had dropped low, so they couldn’t stay long or they’d be walking home in the dark. If she had a dollar for every time she and Mark had walked from his place to hers in the dark, she would be a rich woman. And if anybody had told her six months ago she would ever be making this trek again, she would’ve thought they were delusional.
As they walked down Beecher Road, Tess chatted excitedly, filling in her grandma again on all the details about the mother dog and the puppies.
“Oh.” Her mom jerked to a stop and she stared at the enormous weeping willow. Her mouth twisted into a look of horror. “No!” The word was whispered, but the agony behind it sounded loud and clear. The old tree had been a favorite spot for Audrey, Callie and Mark throughout their childhood. No doubt, the sight of it—not a quick pass like in the car, but a slow approach—had shaken loose a memory. “No, no, no, no.” Her mom thrust her fingers into her hair, gripping the roots, and she squeezed her eyes closed as if she couldn’t bear to see.
Audrey managed to get her arm around her mom’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Mom.” She kept her voice calm as much for Tess, whose wide eyes said she was scared, as her mom. “Here, why don’t we walk this way.” Turning her around was like trying to maneuver a statue.
“No, no, no, no.”
Audrey finally got them headed back in the direction of home, but her mother refused to open her eyes or loosen her grip on her hair. Audrey was terrified she might actually pull some of it out she held it so tightly. Her mind raced, trying to come up with something—anything—that might diminish the anxiety.
A poem came to mind. The one her mom used to recite every evening when they would all walk down to Beecher’s Marina to say good night to Kentucky Lake. “‘I must go down to the seas again,’” she said and felt her mom’s shoulders relax under her arm.
“‘To the lonely sea and the sky.’” To her surprise and delight, Tess’s sweet voice joined hers. She’d recited it often to her daughter when they were on the beach in Florida, but she never realized Tess had committed it to memory.
Her mom’s eyes opened and her hands dropped from her hair to hang at her sides.
“‘And all I ask is a tall ship—’” the duet became a trio “‘—and a star to steer her by.’” A smile broke onto her mom’s face, and Audrey shared a smile and a sigh of relief with her daughter.
“I like those words.” Tess nodded in appreciation. “They’re pretty.”
“Those are the opening lines to ‘Sea Fever,’ a famous poem by John Masefield,” her grandmother explained. Then she went into an in-depth account of the poet and some of his other famous works that lasted the rest of the way home.
When they got there, her mom went on into the house, but Audrey held Tess back for a moment. She stooped down to be at eye level with her. “I’m sorry Grandma got upset, punkin, but you handled it really well. I’m proud of you.” She pulled her into a long, tight hug.
“Can we still go see the puppies?” Tess whispered.
“No, we can’t. Not tonight.” She leaned away to make eye contact. “I’m sorry. I’ll text Mr. Dublin and let him know we won’t be there after all.” Tess nodded glumly. “But we’ll stop by tomorrow after school, and we’ll go every night after supper when we can,” she promised and Tess answered with a resigned sigh.
“Can I play ‘Mario’?”
“Thirty minutes. Then it’ll be time to get ready for bed.”
Tess took off at a gallop through the door and up the stairs.
When Audrey got in the door, she found her mom standing by the sofa table in front of the living room window, looking at the pictures of Win. Her expression was sad but calm as she reached out a finger and traced her daughter’s features in one of the photos. “Callie’s dead,” she said softly.
Audrey walked slowly over to stand beside her. “Yes, she is.” The doctor said to tell the truth if the subject arose.
“You couldn’t say Calinda. You called her Win.” The voice was tender and raw.
“That’s right.” Audrey put her arm around her mother’s shoulder and hugged her as tears made silent tracks down her cheeks.
They stood in silence for a few minutes until her mom finally whispered, “I want to take my medicine now.”
* * *
MARK GLANCED AT the text.
Sorry we didn’t make it. Mom had an episode on the way down to your house. I’ll check on the dogs at least twice tomorrow while you’re at school.
Taking care of Helen had to come first. He swallowed away his disappointment and then chuckled as he looked around the apartment he’d spent the last two hours cleaning and getting ready to show off.
With any luck, it would keep for a couple of days.
He went to check on his new companions in the garage. As soon as he opened the door, Cher left her new bed and went to the door wanting out.
He let her out, stepping outside with her while she took care of her business and then came dutifully back.
He stooped down in front of her and scratched behind her ears. “I would’ve taken you in, with or without Audrey’s help. You know that, right?” Cher closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. “And even after we’ve found the puppies new homes, you’ll always have a home right here.” She gave his hand a grateful lick. Then, ears pricking up, she followed the sound of the soft whine back inside, where she nudged the distraught offspring to let him know Mama was near. He quieted down, and she took the moment of silence to sniff her way around the garage, exploring the new surroundings.
Satisfied her stomach could handle some more food, Mark poured a cupful of dry food into the bowl and set it down beside the water. She came to it immediately and wolfed it down but didn’t beg for more. Instead, she went back to the plush bed and curled up with her babies snuggled beside her.
Mark took a picture of the group with his phone and sent it in a text message to Audrey.
Immediately, she answered back with a smiley face.
The first smile he’d gotten from her in a very, very long time.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_68f6e364-ebf2-5f0f-9e60-bd882beec319)
TREY CAUGHT HIS reflection in the side-view mirror and grinned. It still gave him a little bit of a shock to see the face covered in all the hair. He’d never grown a beard, but he liked it. Along with the sunglasses and the hair that brushed his shoulders, he was a different person from who he’d always been. It was a nice feeling—the real Trey tucked into a safe place, hidden from the world.
He was much more tan now, too, since he’d been fishing for most every meal the past three weeks as he meandered his way across West Virginia and Kentucky. He’d reached the Kentucky Lake area at the western end of the state. Benton, the sign at the edge of town had read.
He leaned his face back to catch the warm morning sun as the gas continued to pump. A car pulled into the next lane over, but he didn’t pay much attention until the squeal of an excited female jostled him.
“Audrey!” The young woman who’d been getting in the black sedan parked at the curb rushed toward the newcomer.
Trey glanced in the direction of the responding laugh, and suddenly his vision was filled with red tresses, flaming in the morning sunshine. His erection sprang to life at the memory of his almost-one-time girlfriend.
Yeah, she reminds me of Kaitlyn, too, Daddy whispered. Her name’s Audrey, though.
The two women hugged, bouncing happily back and forth, and the red strands swayed softly, mesmerizing him like a hypnotist’s watch.
“You’ve straightened your hair. I love it!” The shorter woman smoothed her palm along the ends appreciatively, and Trey’s hand itched to do the same—to wind them up into his hands, to get that kiss she always promised but never gave.
You mean, you never took. Just having a beard doesn’t make you a man.
“I’ve been getting blow-outs.” The redhead turned her head toward him for just a fraction of a second before flipping it back around.
“Well, it’s beautiful.”
Trey agreed, revisiting the glimpse of face he’d been granted when she turned toward him.
“Thanks.” The redhead’s voice was low and silky, like her hair.
“I hear you and your husband divorced, and your dad died. I’m so sorry. And you’re back here, taking care of your mom?” The shorter woman’s head tilted in sympathy.
Audrey sighed. “Yeah, back in good ol’ Taylor’s Grove.”
She’s divorced. Grieving. Lonely, I’ll bet. Lives in Taylor’s Grove. Must be close around here.
“And how’s your mom doing?”
A shrug caused the red hair to shimmer under the slight movement. “Not great. Sometimes better than others. We just take it a day at a time.”
“Well, she’s blessed to have you. Alzheimer’s is a horrible disease. Such a damn horrible disease.”
Trey’s pump stopped and he replaced the nozzle. The women were still talking.
Don’t walk away from her yet. Find out all you can. Might come in handy.
Trey sloshed the squeegee from the bucket of gray water and swiped it across his windshield.
Audrey turned long enough to insert her credit card to start her pump. She didn’t glance his way. But he got a good, long look at her creamy complexion and eyes with long black fringes of lashes.
See the way she’s ignoring you? Being coy. Means she likes you.
The hard-on was agonizing now. He’d have to go to the restroom, but not until she left. He checked the oil level in his truck and still they talked.
Her daughter’s name is Tess, and she’s in the first grade. Did you notice how the mention of her teacher’s name—Mark Dublin—brought a shocked gasp from the other woman. Wonder what that’s about?
The pump on Audrey’s side clicked that it was finished. The women started saying their goodbyes, and the shorter woman walked back to her car.
