by Amy Lyon
“We’ve got everything furniture-wise our guests need,” Ginger said. “But you’re welcome to swap out some pieces with your own, such as a favorite chair, nightstand and lamps.”
Andi let go of Matt’s hand to reach into her purse for her pen and notebook.
Ginger waited until she stopped writing to continue. “You’re also encouraged to bring pictures, keepsakes, artwork, a clock and maybe a vase of flowers.” She handed Andi a folder she’d been carrying under her arm. “The welcome pack. We’ve got a list of recommended toiletries and clothing in there.”
Suddenly her mother’s hand covered hers. “Honey, this room is too small for you. Stay with us until you find a place.”
Andi didn’t realize she’d let go of her pen until she heard it hit the floor. Matt swooped quickly to pick it up.
“I’m not staying here, Mom,” she said and searched the flat, silver sea of her mother’s eyes for any sign of comprehension. The same eyes that were once a brilliant green-blue that mesmerized her. She took Millie’s hand and led her to sit on the cushioned seat under the bay window.
“Mom, you’re going to stay here,” she said gently.
Millie puffed out her cheeks. “It’s a little small for two of us, don’t you think?”
Fancy sat on the other side of Millie and held her hand. “This room is just for you, honey.”
Millie shook her head. “No, sir. Dwight will have none of separate bedrooms, even if it’s just a weekend stay. He says the quickest route to divorce is separate bedrooms.”
Never mind that Dwight and her mother never married. Andi looked at her feet. Had they?
“Dwight passed away last week, Millie,” Fancy said. “Remember? You’re not going to be able to stay in your house anymore.”
A soft gasp escaped Andi’s mouth at Fancy’s bluntness, but she knew the words were necessary. She looked to Matt, who stood watching their exchange with a sympathetic expression.
And that’s when the change happened. Gone was the sweet, amiable woman who had looked at everything with such interest as they’d followed Ginger through the facility. Anger transformed Millie’s face. She blasted Fancy for not telling her about Dwight sooner, for waiting until they were in a public place to convey such devastating news. And then she turned on Andi.
“And you! You wait until my husband is dead to come down here and get your claws into our money!”
“What? I, no, Mom—” she kneeled on the floor in front of the older woman and tried to take her hands. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Millie pushed to her feet. “I want to go home. Where are my keys?” She looked at Matt. “Are you hiding my keys from me again?”
Matt didn’t flinch. Instead, he tipped his head slightly to offer a gentle shake of negation.
“Oh, don’t give me that holier-than-thou look,” Millie hissed. “You’ve got problems of your own, buddy.”
Fancy rose quickly and put her arm around Millie. “I’ll take you home. We’ll have a little rest, then talk some more.”
Millie shrugged off her friend’s touch, but moved toward the door with her anyway.
“I’ll come by this afternoon, Mom,” Andi said, still kneeling on the floor.
But her mother only offered a flat look with narrowed eyes, her mouth pinched in bitter silence.
* * *
Matt couldn’t imagine what was going through Andi’s mind, but he promised himself he would get her through this day with as little emotional damage as possible. As soon as he collected himself from Millie’s comment. Thankfully, she hadn’t elaborated on his problems or that would have added to the troubles Andi didn’t need to bear right now.
After Fancy left with Millie, Ginger filled the silence with information about support groups for families and twenty-four-seven supervision to assure Andi her mother would be properly cared for day and night.
“I’ve got all of the paperwork up front, so we can start whenever—”
Andi exhaled sharply. “Can I think about it and get back to you tomorrow?”
Ginger looked to Matt and he realized he should have explained the situation to Andi on the drive here. He’d been too busy enjoying her good mood to purposely bring her down.
He cleared his throat. “Like I said before, Dwight knew he couldn’t take care of Millie forever, so he put her on the crisis care list last month. There’s a six-month wait to get in here. With his passing, we were able to get Millie moved to the top of the list, which is how this opening came about.”
Ginger clasped her hands in front of her. “Families on the crisis care list have twenty-four hours to make a decision when a space becomes available,” she said. “And that clock started ticking when we notified you yesterday.”
Matt held up his phone. “Got the call right before the funeral.”
Andi glanced at the clock on the wall. “So I’ve got about seventeen minutes to make a decision.” She pressed her hands to her hips and scanned the room before dropping her eyes to the floor.
Ginger smiled sympathetically. “We’re not quite as strict as that. Take your time in here to think about it.” She moved toward the door. “I’ll be in the administration offices up front when you’re ready.”
“All right,” Andi said without looking up.
Matt recognized her clipped tone, slumped shoulders and the way she stared off at nothing. He’d first seen it last night on Millie’s front porch, and again today beside the pool at Casa Blanca. His gut ached for her. Less than twenty-four hours ago, she couldn’t have seen this bomb coming, let alone prepare to handle it on her own.
“Maybe I need to move here,” she said, catching him off guard. “Take care of her. She could stay in her house that way.”
Matt’s heart slammed in his chest. He wanted to support that idea, for his own selfish reasons, but he wouldn’t do that to her.
“Being a caretaker for a parent with mid-stage dementia is not a split-second decision to be made out of guilt—”
“But I owe it to her.”
Matt shook his head. “Why do you say that?”
Andi looked away from him. After several long beats, she faced him with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes were misty, but the defiant set of her chin told him she wasn’t about to let herself crumble. Not again.
“And how is she going to pay for this?” She flipped open the folder and scanned the pricing sheet. “Five-thousand dollars a month! Did you see this?”
She shoved the folder in Matt’s direction, but he didn’t take it. He didn’t have to. He’d already run through the numbers with Dwight and was well aware of Millie’s financial situation.
“She’ll be taken care of,” Matt said. “Dwight didn’t have any children and he left everything to Millie.”
“What’s everything?”
“Their house is paid for and Dwight had a pretty good-sized chunk of money set aside. He worked on the railroad when he was younger and had a pension. As his wife, she’ll get that—”
“Wife? They were married?”
Matt’s mind reeled. She didn’t know they were married? “It was a small ceremony...” He mentally rebuked himself for the way he tried to downplay the marriage, a covenant that held the utmost importance in God’s eyes, no matter the number of celebrants.
Andi paced the room, then stopped in front of him. “No wonder I wasn’t invited to the wedding. Man, I’m a jerk.”
Matt snorted at the unexpected comment. “Because?”
She rested her hands on her hips. “I always assumed he was poor and living off my mother’s money. Not that she had much, but she’d done all right for herself by stashing some away and building up a 401K.”
Wow. She really didn’t know Dwight at all. He was easily the most unselfish man Matt knew, sort of like a father to him after his own dad died. More of a father, actually, than his own absentee dad. And Dwight understood to his core that his money was not his own, that he was simply a steward of everything the Lor
d gave to him. Matt may have had the assistant pastor title, but Dwight gave him more insight into the teachings of the Bible than all of those expensive seminary classes put together.
“Dwight was a good, Godly man,” Matt finally said. “It should comfort you to know that he always had your mother’s best interests in mind and they really were in love.”
She nodded weakly. “I’ll work through all of this in time. Maybe some expensive therapy will do the trick—” she gave a half-hearted smile “—but for now, how do I put her in here and live with myself?”
He swallowed hard. “This is my method when I struggle to find answers: If I do the right thing in each moment I have a choice, God will take care of the rest. Worry steals, faith restores.”
Andi hung her head. “Now you sound like a pastor,” she said and pushed the heel of her hand to the center of her chest.
Matt wanted to wrap her in his arms and promise he’d take care of everything. Instead, he spoke the words that had run repeatedly through his mind since the first moment he saw her nearly rip the hinges off the church door: “You’re not alone in this.” He didn’t take his eyes off her.
He knew his words reached her when she turned quickly to face him, crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her head on his chest and Matt felt his whole body tingle to life.
“I’m so thankful you’re here.” She sighed. “And Fancy, the way she takes care of my mom. I really couldn’t do this alone.”
Matt encircled her in his arms and wondered if she could hear his heart hammering. He tipped his head to the ceiling, steeling himself against the contentedness he felt having her this close. Two days. That’s all he had.
She leaned back and looked up at him. “You’re going above and beyond your role, Pastor Cooke.”
He grunted. “This is more than a pastor-member relationship,” he said. “I care about Millie.”
And you.
CHAPTER FIVE
Matt had never struggled so much to outline a sermon in his life. Not because he wasn’t inspired by the material, but because his mind was so preoccupied with the gorgeous girl he’d met a mere two days ago, who was just down the street at her mother’s house, almost close enough to touch.
And wherever she was, his heart told him he needed to be.
But could he really trust his heart when his head reminded him she’d be gone by Monday and, considering her track record of visits, he’d probably never see her again.
Maybe I should move here.
His heart thudded in his chest. She wouldn’t. Her job was too important to her. Which was especially why he wanted her to hear his sermon tomorrow. He reread the verse from Colossians 3:23. “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men...”
He’d been told when he started as assistant pastor six years ago that his time on the stage, specifically preaching, would be limited. And he’d been okay with that. Still was. He knew God stirred as many hearts on Sunday mornings as He did throughout the week during unexpected divine appointments. But now, with Rev. Gary Irvine still away on an unplanned, three-month sabbatical, Matt was pulling double duty. He needed to be twice as efficient as he’d been before and he forever felt he was trying to prove to the membership they’d made the right decision when they’d voted to hire him, to take a chance on him.
So, like Andi, work was heavy on his mind, too.
But he wanted her to hear every sermon he’d preach from here on out and that reality startled him. And so did the screech of the screen door, followed by a knock and the front door opening before he had time to get out of his chair.
“You really should lock your doors,” Andi called from the front of the house.
“Never know who might wander in,” he said, coming around the corner from his home office. When he saw her, the contentment he’d come to associate with her rolled over him again.
“Get your sermon written?”
He nodded. “Ready to roll. How are the moms?”
“Doing well. Your mom’s a saint, by the way. The way she takes care of Millie...” She trailed off as she moved through the dining room and into the kitchen. “Your house is beautiful.” She tipped her nose up. “Do I smell paint?”
“My mother is quite the decorator,” he said and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Just repainted last week. She thought the place needed a more beachy feel.”
Andi reached up to touch one of Fancy’s handmade valances. “She’s got a good eye.”
“Fortunately. If it were left up to me, there’d be burlap bags over the windows.”
“Burlap’s very trendy right now.”
“Not the way I’d use it.”
She laughed. “You’ve got style, too, Mr. Cooke.”
He grunted. His present style resembled a model home with no personal effects. Those items were tucked safely away in his office and bedrooms, behind closed doors, while the redecorating happened. Which was good. He wasn’t prepared to explain the pictures or his unique family tree. There were some things about him she didn’t need to know.
After watching Andi walk through the kitchen and poke her nose into the living room, Matt drew her outside to the pool and waterfall behind the house.
At the pool’s edge, she slipped off her sandals and skimmed her toe across the water. “Hey, I’m sorry my mom snapped at you today and called you...what was it? Holier than thou?”
Matt leaned casually against the doorframe as he watched her. “She’s going through a lot.”
She linked her hands behind her back and watched the water spill over the rocks and into the pool. “What’d she mean when she said you’ve got problems of your own?”
“Dunno,” he answered quickly and felt the burn of the lie in his chest. “We’ve all got problems of some kind, right?”
Andi shrugged. “I guess.”
He came to stand next to her. “You eat?”
“Nope. Mom wanted tuna salad sandwiches and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.” She smiled. “Thought I’d see if you were cooking up anything better.”
* * *
An hour later they enjoyed grilled chicken and veggie kabobs at a patio table near the pool.
“I miss grilling,” Andi said as she popped a green pepper slice into her mouth. “When I was growing up we grilled almost every night in the summer. We lived in this small town called Sleepy Lake and we’d sit out by the water and eat dinner together.”
Matt motioned to the pool. “And here you are, sitting by water again.”
She rose and walked to the pool’s edge. “I’m a Pisces. I belong by the water.”
Matt laughed. “Then Mimosa Key is the perfect place for you.”
She inched her dress up to her knees, sat and slipped her feet into the water. “My mom bought this massive picnic table and had dreams of filling it with children. She wanted a big family so badly, but—” she glanced at Matt. What was it about this man that made her want to bare her soul to him? “She had five miscarriages, three before me and two after me.”
The metal of his chair scraped on the concrete as he stood. A second later he sat next to her and dipped his bare feet into the pool. “That’s awful. I had no idea.”
“She doesn’t talk about them anymore, not after my dad left.” Those pesky prickles behind her eyelids returned. She hadn’t felt as weepy in years as she had in the past few days. “He couldn’t handle that she gave the babies names and grieved each loss. He thought she should get over it.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “How old were you when he left?”
“Fifteen.” She sat up straight and took a deep breath.
“My dad left the week I turned eighteen.” She looked at him as he continued his admission. “I think he was just waiting for me to graduate and become an adult so he could justify leaving in his mind, like he’d fulfilled his parenting responsibility.”
“Do you keep in touch with him?”
“I did
. Until he passed away last year.”
She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
He bent his head forward slightly in acknowledgment. “Heart attack. Out of the blue, just like Dwight. He seemed healthy enough from what I knew. It was a pretty huge shock.” He leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “How about you? You keep in touch with your old man?”
Andi tipped her head to the side. “I guess, about as much as I keep in touch with my mom. He has a new family in Colorado and he emails and I text, and on the holidays we talk. Surface-y stuff, you know? Work. Weather.”
Matt was quiet. Even though it was dark now, there was enough of a glow from the colored pool lights for her to see the faraway look in his eyes.
She sighed. “Sometimes I wonder why God chose me.”
He swung his head around and his expression said what his mouth didn’t: What are you talking about?
“I mean, one of my sisters or brothers would have treated my mom better than me.” She touched the telling moisture from the corners of her eyes.
Matt sat forward and a soft cluck came from his mouth. “Come on, Andi. You are such a blessing to your mother.”
“You have no idea,” she said, less concerned about the crack in her voice than the ache in her heart. “Blessing is the last word I’d choose for me.”
He rested his hand on her lower back and she leaned into the warmth of his palm through the thin material of her dress. His touch was comforting and unnerving at the same time.
“I do have an idea,” he said. “It’s the way she talks about you. You are her world.”
His words were like a punch to the gut and the force of it sent tears spilling down her cheeks. Somehow, though, crying in front of him felt okay. Cleansing. This was the most she’d ever shared about her mother’s plight, and the brothers and sisters she’d dreamed of having, the little souls she sometimes imagined looked down on her from Heaven. What would they think of how she cared for their mother? If they were here, would they rally around Millie with more than three days of funeral leave? Likely they would have been more involved the whole time and invited to attend their mother’s wedding.