“Bye-byyyye.” He holds up his hand and waves.
I leave the bedroom and go back to the kitchen table. Mom joins me minutes later. “He doesn’t mean anything by it,” she says, pouring us each a cup of coffee and sitting down across from me. “He doesn’t like to talk to anyone because of the slur.”
I nod, understanding. It would be hard to talk knowing that you don’t sound the same and that you don’t have the ability to control your words the way you used to.
“Getting him on a schedule has been the best thing for him, it seems. He wakes up at 6 a.m. and takes his shower—with my help, of course. Then he sits in the kitchen and has his coffee and breakfast. Your cousin Mitchell has been coming over and taking him outside. They walk through the barn and he pets the horses and feeds them treats. Then he takes a nap, because that just really wipes him out. He gets up for lunch, watches some TV, takes another nap, then he’s up for dinner. After dinner, we’ve been playing some little games. I’ll throw a ball and he’ll catch it—it’s good for his hand-eye coordination. We’ll do puzzles, read, or just sit and talk about the good old days. All of it is great for him. I’m just so tired. Nothing’s been getting done around here. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been into town since he came home.”
“How are you guys doing when it comes to money?” I ask, knowing she’ll never mention it if I don’t ask.
She nods. “We’re fine. Between the savings and the retirement money that comes in every month, we’re surviving. But of course, it isn’t enough to hire someone to help.”
“Just tell me what you need done, Mama. I’m more than happy to help. That’s why I’m here.”
“Well, I guess you could run to the store for me so I can finally get around to taking that nap I’ve been meaning to since June of 1984,” she teases.
I laugh. “Of course. Where’s the list?”
“It’s there on the fridge.”
I stand up and grab the list. “I’ll be back in a few,” I say, practically running from the house. I know I came here to help, and I’m more than happy to, but seeing them like this is heartbreaking. Not just my father and his current health situation, but my mother too. She was always so young, beautiful, active. While my dad worked the land, she was busy cooking, sewing, and running from here to there because she was in gardening clubs, book clubs, knitting clubs. Now she doesn’t have time for anything but my father and it’s obviously taking a toll on her. Her dark hair is graying at the roots, which tells me she hasn’t had time to go to the salon. She’s always been an avid makeup wearer, but today, there’s not a speck on her face.
I used to ask why she’d wake up early every day—even though she didn’t have any plans—and get dressed up with her hair and makeup done. She always said it was because it made her feel good to look her best. Clearly, that’s out the window now. After I get settled in and learn Daddy’s routine and how he likes things, I’m going to give her the day off. Let her have some personal time. She can get up early, dress nicely, do her makeup, get her hair done, do some shopping, and hang out with long-lost friends. She deserves that much.
Instead of going straight to the store, I opt to swing by the local coffee shop and bakery to grab a coffee and some muffins. Blueberry’s always been Daddy’s favorite, and I’m sure he would love some for breakfast in the morning. I park the car and head inside.
The shop is little and quaint. It’s exactly what you’d expect a small-town bakery to look like. The place has a long white counter in the front with little iron-legged tables, topped with rough wood. The chairs are made of the same iron and wood, and the decor is mostly framed pictures of baked goods. Walking in, I inhale the scent of fresh-baked bread, donuts, and muffins.
“Hi, can I help you?” the girl behind the counter asks.
“Yes, I’ll take a large coffee—three sugars and one cream—and a half-dozen of your blueberry muffins, please.”
She rings it all up. “That’ll be $10.49.”
I hand over my card and she swipes it before handing it back.
“It’ll be just a few minutes,” she says, going to gather the items.
“Sally, when you finish with that order, would you mind running a coffee and donut over to the Wilsons’ place? Poor Merry-Anne fell again and is back to being bedridden,” someone says. That voice sounds familiar.
I spin around and am face to face with my old best friend, Julie—the one who always flirted with Wyatt. The one he kissed on prom night.
My mouth drops open, as does hers, but she recovers quickly and puts on a smile. “Destiny, how have you been?” she asks sweetly.
I shake my head and force a smile onto my lips. “I’m good. You?”
She nods as she walks over to the edge of the counter. “I’m good. Bought this place a few years ago.”
“That’s great. I had no idea. How’s Mark? You two still together?” I ask, knowing that they got married right after high school.
She pulls her eyes away. “We got divorced about a year ago. I got custody of little Jimmy, though, and he got . . . well,” she laughs, “he got crabs from the woman he was cheating on me with.”
I can’t help but laugh along with her.
“Do . . . do you have time to sit down and catch up?”
I look at my watch. I’m not worried about time. Really, I’m trying to decide if I want to stay. I haven’t spoken to Julie since prom night. I ignored all calls until I left for college, when the calls stopped completely.
The things that happened between us took place so long ago. It seems silly to be hanging on to that all this time, so I reply, “Sure, I have a few minutes.”
I’m handed my coffee and the box of muffins. I take both and we head over to a table to sit down.
“So, what are you doing back in town?”
“My dad had a stroke.”
“I heard about that. How’s he doing?”
“He’s recovering, but he has a long way to go. I just came home to help my mom take care of him. It’s hard on her to take care of his every need while keeping up with the house.”
“I’m so sorry. That’s nice of you to give up your time to help them.”
I pick up my coffee and take a sip. “Well, I didn’t really see a choice in the matter. I gave up my apartment and my job, then packed my whole life into a single duffel bag.”
There’s a long, awkward silence between the two of us. Finally, she takes a deep breath. “Listen, about Wyatt . . .”
I hold up my hand, silencing her. “I really don’t want to even go there, Julie. It was a long time ago. I mean, that’s high school drama.”
She nods. “I know, but I never got the chance to explain. I really did think he was Mark. He came up behind me and started kissing my neck. I just spun around and kissed him so fast that it never occurred to me it might not be him. We’d all been drinking so much that night . . .”
I nod. “I didn’t drink a drop that night. And it doesn’t even really matter. Not anymore. Let’s just put all of that behind us.”
“Really?”