“Why don’t you lie back?” Taylor suggested.
“Don’t leave me!” Mr. Clarkson said, tightening his hold on her, his eyes going wide.
“I won’t,” Taylor reassured him. “Come on, lie down for me.”
He did, managing to keep hold of her hand the entire time.
Taylor pulled a chair close to the bed and leaned her elbows on the mattress. “How have you been?” she asked.
“Not good, not good,” Mr. Clarkson said. Then he went on and on about how terrible work had been lately and how their kids had been acting up. Taylor just sat and listened, making the appropriate sympathetic noises now and then so he knew she was there.
Over the months she’d been visiting him, Taylor had learned that he had a pretty tragic story. One of his children had been killed in a car accident, and the other, a daughter, was estranged. She’d gotten hooked on painkillers and was currently homeless, living out in Los Angeles somewhere. He had no siblings, and after his wife had died, there’d been no one to help take care of him at his home. He was literally all alone in the world, and it made Taylor’s heart ache for him.
An hour later, she slipped her hand out of Mr. Clarkson’s limp fingers and leaned over and kissed him on his wrinkled forehead as he slept. She wasn’t sure she was making a difference in the lives of the people she visited, but she liked to think so.
The rest of her visits were shorter. Mrs. Allen wasn’t in the mood to chat, Mr. Lloyd was too agitated for visitors, and a petite woman nicknamed Little Mama by her family was only concerned about the chocolates Taylor had brought and otherwise had no time to talk.
Her visits were always draining, so before driving home, Taylor went and sat in a small outdoor space. The care center was a huge square with long hallways of rooms, and in the middle, the developers had built a nice courtyard, a garden where the residents could sit without worrying the staff that they’d leave the grounds. There were a couple of residents there enjoying the sunshine, but Taylor made sure to sit away from them. She needed some downtime to get her head on straight before she went home to her lonely apartment.
Wishing Eagle was home so she could call him, Taylor sighed as she sat on a bench.
She’d only been there a few minutes when someone asked from nearby, “It’s hard, isn’t it?”
Looking up, she saw a man standing near her. Startled because she hadn’t heard him approach, Taylor nodded.
“I’m Jim. Jim Warton,” the man said, holding out his hand for her to shake.
Not wanting to be rude, Taylor reached out and shook his hand. It might’ve been her imagination, but she could’ve sworn the man held her hand a bit too long to be polite. When he did let go, she surreptitiously wiped her palm on her jeans and tried to think of a way to get out of conversing.
“May I sit?” Jim asked.
Mentally sighing and knowing she was going to be stuck talking to the man, she nodded.
He sat next to her, and it was only then that Taylor realized how small the bench was. She could feel the heat of his hip against hers . . . and it made her extremely uncomfortable.
“It’s hard seeing loved ones like this, isn’t it?” he asked.
Taylor nodded.
“You here visiting a parent?” he asked.
“No. I’m just volunteering,” Taylor told him.
“Really? Wow, that’s good of you. Most people don’t want anything to do with a place like this. They’re scared of the old people who act weird and can’t remember anything.”
For some reason, his words struck her as offensive. “They aren’t weird,” she defended them. “Most are just stuck in the past, and they’re confused about where they are and why they can’t be with their families.”
“You’re right,” Jim said immediately. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”
He didn’t sound all that sincere, but Taylor didn’t call him on it. Instead she asked, “Why are you here?”
“I’m looking for a place for my mom,” he told her. “I’ve been looking after her at home, but it’s gotten more and more difficult, for both her and me. It’s been the two of us for a long time, and I really don’t want to do it, but she’s not happy at home.”
“I’m sorry,” Taylor said, and she was. She was still getting weird vibes from the man, but she did feel for anyone who was trying to care for a loved one with dementia or Alzheimer’s.
“Thanks. She’s a wanderer. She’s constantly trying to get out of the house, and that scares me to death. She thinks she’s a prisoner. The last time she got out, she was telling everyone she saw that I was a horrible son and asking if she could live with them instead.”
Goose bumps rose on Taylor’s arms. The residents could say some pretty outlandish things, but most of the time their ramblings were rooted in memories of things that had actually happened in their lives.
The reason Eagle had been so upset with her the other night was really hammered home in this moment. He’d been scared for her safety. Because she’d given a complete stranger her home address. It had hurt when he’d called her stupid, but that was what she’d been. And she realized that she’d somehow gotten herself into another potentially dangerous situation.
Oh, she didn’t think the man next to her was going to grab her and try to kidnap her; it would be impossible, since the courtyard had no external access. It was surrounded on all four sides by the walls of the building. But still.
She was sitting with a stranger who she’d never be able to identify. He had on a regular pair of jeans and a nondescript white T-shirt. He could literally be almost anyone. He had no distinguishing features whatsoever. When she inhaled through her nose, trying to calm herself, she realized that he smelled like the care center. Bleach and urine. She wondered if that was because he’d been visiting or because of the mother he took care of at home.
“I’m sorry, that sounds very stressful,” she said carefully, doing her best to shift her body to the right so she wasn’t touching him anymore.
“It is,” Jim agreed. “So I came down here to check this place out. You volunteer here . . . what do you think? How’s the staff? The security? Are the residents happy and cared for?”
She didn’t want to talk anymore. She wanted to leave. But Taylor also couldn’t be rude. It just wasn’t in her. “Some of the staff could be more attentive,” she said honestly. “But the residents seem to be happy.”
“Hmmm, that’s good. What about you? Are you happy, Taylor?”
Okay, that was it. She was done with this conversation. She should’ve politely greeted him, then immediately left the moment she’d felt weird vibes.
“I am,” she said, then stood. “I’m sorry, but I need to get going. I hope you find what you need for your mother. It was nice to meet you.” Then, without giving him time to respond, she turned and practically ran for the nearest door.
She glanced back when she reached the door and noted Jim was standing by the bench. He saw her looking at him and raised a hand, giving her a small wave.
But it was the odd little smile on his face that made her shiver.
Taylor considered visiting another resident just to hide out from Jim so he didn’t catch her in the parking lot or something, but decided she just wanted to go home. She headed for the front desk and handed in her visitor’s pass. With another look over her shoulder, and not seeing creepy Jim, Taylor rushed toward her loaner and locked herself in. She didn’t see any sign of Jim as she exited the parking lot and sighed in relief when she pulled onto the road.