“That was our first kiss.” Hallie covered her mouth, wiping off that same kiss. “He’d said he agreed with me and that he loved you and wanted to build a life with you, but he wanted just one kiss. Just one.”
“And you agreed?”
“I’d never felt that way about anyone, Lena. Ever. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know . . . what to do.”
“So you thought kissing was the best answer.”
“It was wrong. I know that. I’ve always known that.” Hallie shook her head, her hair falling into her face. “I’ve lived with the consequences. We all have. It was wrong and I made a mistake and if I could go back in time I would warn you. I would warn myself. I would change everything. But I can’t.”
“Warn me?”
Hallie retreated then, her face closing in.
“Hallie, he seduced you the exact same way he seduced me. He used the same Shakespeare quote. The same bullshit ‘we are all one in the stars’ stories. He dug into that vulnerable little heart of yours and made a nest. Just like he did to me.”
“You hate me.”
“No. I don’t hate you. Maybe I did for a time, or at least I tried. But mostly I’ve just been avoiding the pain.” A moment of silence fell between them. Finally Colleen asked, “Was it worth it?”
Hallie stared at her sister for the longest time, as if she had never once considered this question. “I have Rosie and Sadie,” she said. “How could I answer with anything other than a yes?”
“Was Walter worth it, Hallie?”
Hallie’s mouth formed a tight little corkscrew, her eyes closed. “I know it started badly, but we’ve made a life and a good marriage. We have two little girls, Lena, your nieces, who are part of us, me and you the same.”
So of course he was worth it, Colleen mentally finished for her sister. He was Walter with the resounding laugh and the twinkle in his eye. He was Walter who tuned in when you spoke, who remembered everything you loved and then showed up with it in his hands. He was Walter who knew how to touch a woman. He was Walter with the quick wit and the engrossing conversations.
No, Hallie hadn’t needed to answer the question.
Chapter Fifteen
The past beats inside me like a second heart.
John Banville, The Sea
Colleen took a long walk through the hospital grounds and tried not to think about Hallie’s story, but of course she did, letting the images ricochet off her memories, fireflies trapped in a jar. An hour later, her sister texted her to say the test results were in. Colleen bolted back to the waiting room and arrived just as Dr. Ray entered in her green scrubs. Here, now, Colleen told herself, she would believe what she was told; she would no longer deceive herself by fabricating other possibilities.
In that private room, Dr. Ray grabbed a chair and brought it to face Colleen and Hallie. Gavin was in the exam room getting dressed so they had a moment or two alone.
“The scan shows significant amounts of amyloid plaque. Along with his previous tests, I can say with assurance that your dad has mid- to late-stage Alzheimer’s disease.”
The proclamation dropped into the room like a heavy rock with no way to move it. There was no more faking it. No more denial. No more maybe, couldn’t-be, not-Dad.
“Where do we go from here?” Colleen’s voice was weak. Hallie sat still and quiet, her hands folded in her lap.
“We have new medicines now, but the clinical trials are only for patients in an earlier stage,” Dr. Ray said. “They have not proved to be effective at the stage your father is in.”
“Why did it take so long for us to know?” Hallie spoke up, her hands now flying through the air. “We thought it was just plain forgetfulness.”
Dr. Ray nodded. “Do not blame yourself. You can’t do that. This disease will be enough of a stressor on your family.”
Hallie asked the question Colleen was wondering. “Why is he going downhill so fast? I thought it took years.”
“Sometimes when someone is very intelligent, has a strong social network and higher education, the symptoms are masked for longer. So what looks like rapid deterioration is merely the symptoms finally becoming obvious. And didn’t he recently lose your mother?”
“Yes, about two years ago,” Hallie confirmed.
“Grief and change in routine can make it worse. And she was probably protecting him, helping him.”
Colleen stood then, the information pulsing through her. “How long do we have?”
“No one can say. But he’s definitely moving into the late stages.” Dr. Ray softened her voice. “Has he had outbursts that are out of character?”
“Yes.” Colleen couldn’t deny it. “Just this morning he said a string of curse words that I’d never heard him use. He thinks cursing is lazy.”
“We don’t know,” Dr. Ray said, “whether the aggression and agitation are because of damage to centers in the brain or aggravation at the memory loss. Even so, you must expect more of it. I’m sorry.”
“So not only will he lose his memories of who he is and who we are, but he will become someone else at the same time?”
“No. He will not become someone else. He’s still your dad. His brain is being damaged, and this will cause him to lose memories and act differently. But you have to remember he is still the same man. You must do your best to keep that in your heart.” Dr. Ray nodded toward the door. “He should be dressed and ready in a minute. You have plans to make. You need to consider arrangements. I’ll put you in touch with a social worker to discuss safety, where he’ll live and financial concerns. You have a lot ahead of you, but I know you both have a devoted brother. Gavin is lucky to have such a strong family network. I understand he owns a pub and is close to the townspeople? He is well respected?”
“Yes.” Grief grabbed Colleen by the throat. The family. The town. The pub. She’d given them up and now they would help her dad.
Gavin’s voice reached them just as he stepped into the room. “Well, are you all in here talking about me behind my back?” He was dressed and carrying his shoes in his hand.
Hallie went to her dad and hugged him. “Dad, put on your shoes.”
“They are on.” Then he glanced at his hands and laughed. “On my hands.” Gavin sat down and looked at Dr. Ray. “Okay, give it to me straight.”
Dr. Ray recited what she’d told the sisters while Gavin sat quietly, his shoes on his lap. “So it’s true.”
“Dad, we will do everything,” Colleen blurted out.
He looked at her with an expression she’d never seen—he was frightened. “Everything will not be enough. I know that is true.” Gavin swiped his hand across the table and magazines scattered; his shoes fell from his lap to the floor.
“Dad?” Colleen stared at him. He was aging quickly, the confusion etching his face with worry lines. Regret washed over her with the sensation of being punched in the stomach. She should have spent more time with Dad. Asked him about his life. Asked him . . .
His gaze slowly shifted to Colleen and then to Hallie as he slipped on his loafers. “If this becomes a hardship on you two or your brother, you must let someone else take care of me.”
“What are you talking about, Dad?” Colleen fought back tears. “We aren’t giving you away because—”
“I won’t be me.”
Colleen twisted her hands together, knotted them together. “You will be you. You will. You’re the one who tells me about the Celtic world of the soul. That won’t change. Your soul doesn’t have plaque on it.”
“You must know this, my girls. As I become just this body, as my memory doesn’t serve you or me, you can never doubt my love. I need you to promise me that.”
“I promise, Dad,” they both answered, almost in unison, catching each other’s gazes. They were together in this; finally in this they were together.
He folded his
hands in his lap. “It’s time to go back to the pub. I sure can’t miss trivia night.”
“Dad, there’s never a night you can miss.”
“That’s very true.”
* * *
• • •
They made it back from Jacksonville with Dad snoozing or humming to the radio as if they hadn’t just heard the worst news possible, as if his mind was already sliding toward oblivion in a good-natured way. Of course this wasn’t true—all three of them were hurting, holding the devastating news tight to their own selves like an invisible wound. What was there to say?
This time Hallie drove while Colleen sat in the backseat next to the sticky gummy bears in the side seat and a half-full juice box on the floorboards. She stared out the window, wishing for something perfect to say, something that would anchor them in the right now, but she found nothing but an old memory that rolled in asking to be known.
How old had she been? Maybe six, or even as young as five years old.
She was practicing throwing the net, her small hands around the edges of the nylon, the small silver weights like beads she liked to roll between her fingers. Dad stood behind her and held her arms as she imitated his movements, a slow dance as they threw the net in an arc over the blue-gray water. Together they pulled it out of the water and inside was a pile of squirming shrimp, translucent and thrashing against the constraints of the net.
“Let them go,” Colleen hollered. She released her edge of the net as twenty or more shrimp fell to the dock. Their whiskers, what she called the antennae, tickled her feet and she began to kick them into the water. Her feet slid and the shrimp plunked into the dimpled river, sinking to the depths where she believed they would rejoin their family.
“Lena, love.” Dad took her hands. “What are you doing?”
He didn’t prevent her from throwing them back. He didn’t yell. He just asked.
When one lone shrimp remained, Colleen plucked it from the dock and stared at its small beady eyes before tossing it into the outgoing tide. She turned to her dad. “We can’t take them away from their family. What if the sister is looking for her brother or the little girl looking for her mother?”
Dad bent to Colleen and took her in his arms, pulled so closely that she smelled his aftershave and the salty brine of their river that ran through his heart and straight to her own. “You are so like your mother.” He hugged her tightly, rubbed her back before releasing her to look into her eyes.
“Mother doesn’t like to catch them either,” Colleen said and wiped at the tears. “She only likes to cook them. I can’t kill them, Daddy. I just can’t.”
“They were given to us for eatin’. They’re a gift from the river. We aren’t separating anyone. They don’t have families like we do.”
“If anyone ever took me from my family; if I were caught in a net . . .” Colleen threw her arms around him and he lifted her up, carried her back to the house.
“We’ll try again another day because you are very, very good at throwing that net, Lena. It’s a skill that takes some people years to learn.”
Mother waited on the back step in her favorite navy blue sundress, her hair blowing in the breeze, all smiles and warmth. “Are you okay, sweetie?” She rubbed the top of Colleen’s tangled hair.
“I just didn’t want to take the shrimp I caught.” Colleen was placed on the ground and she looked at her mom. “Dad said I’m just like you.”
Mother froze in place, the dish towel in her hand fluttering in the gust of an incoming storm. Her face looked different, Colleen thought. Funny. Then Mother began to cry, not with any noise but with tears that filled her eyes like the rain often did in the pitted spots of their backyard. She used the dish towel to wipe them away and turned back into the house, closing the door behind her.
Colleen looked at her dad. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Lena. No. She doesn’t like to be reminded of their little deaths.”
He hoisted his daughter onto his shoulders and walked around the side of the house.
“She doesn’t love me like she does Hallie.” Colleen stated this with conviction, as though someone had told her the fact and she needed to tell her dad the truth.
Gavin grabbed Colleen by the waist and swung her from his shoulders to place her on the ground. He bent to look directly into her eyes, which were the same color and shape as his own. “That is not true, Lena. Not at all true.”
“Yes, it is.” Colleen shrugged. “But it’s okay because she does love me, just not as much.”
“Why do you say such things?”
“I just know.” Colleen skipped off and called back to her dad, “Are you coming?”
It was later that night, when everyone was asleep, the creaks of the house settling, acorns falling on the porch like footsteps, when Colleen sneaked out of bed to watch the full moon rise over her river. She wanted to watch just until it reached the top of the live oak, and then she would go back to bed, but she was stopped dead in her tracks when she heard Mother and Dad whispering in the kitchen.
They were talking about her.
“I try, Gavin. I do try. I love her very much. You know that.”
And with that, Colleen ran back to bed, forfeiting her view of the moon as she buried herself under the covers. She didn’t want to hear one more word. Not one. Even as a child she understood—it was best to believe what she was told to believe, not what she overheard.
Chapter Sixteen
Memories were like the tides.
Mary Alice Monroe, Beach House Memories
Shane met Colleen, Hallie and Dad at the pub’s back door. His face was set with tight control, his fists clenched at his sides. A cloudless sky was turning the early pink shades of twilight, the air still and hot. “What did they say?” No preamble, no greeting.
Gavin answered. “It’s not good news, son, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m going to walk into my pub right now and enjoy trivia night. I’m going to have my one whiskey. I’m going to love you and love Hallie and love Lena. Nothing about that changes.” He nodded at his children and opened the back door and disappeared inside.
Hallie pointed after him. “Let me go with him. Colleen can catch you up.” She slipped inside with her satchel and her papers and her ponytail flapping.
Shane exhaled and leaned against the building, his hands jammed in his pockets. “Just damn. Tell me everything.”
“First, before I forget—when I got out of the shower today, the stove burner was on and he was about to go out in the johnboat.”
Shane rubbed his temples. “I knew this was coming. We have to make plans now.”
Colleen went to him with a hug. This was the boy she’d held when he scabbed a knee or became scared during a thunderstorm. This was the boy she’d taught to hook a worm and throw a net. “I’ve missed you so much,” Colleen said into his shoulder.
“Me, too, sis. Me, too.”
“Shane.” She stepped back. “We are running out of time. Your idea to catch his memories—we have to do it now. The doc said there’s no question . . .”
The sound of the squeaking hinges stopped Colleen’s statement and Gavin emerged. He propped open the back door with his foot and in his free hand he held a garbage bag. He took a few steps toward the dumpster and threw the bag in before turning to his children. “Is something wrong and I don’t know about it? You look so serious.”
Twilight filtered through the Spanish moss, spilling light like strained honey onto their dad’s face. He squinted at his children. Shane took two steps toward him. “Dad, we were just talking about your doctor’s appointment today.”
“My doctor’s appointment?”
Shane and Colleen exchanged glances. “Yes, Dad. We went to Jacksonville today.”
Gavin rubbed at his face, wiping away a film of forgetfulness. “I’m sick, aren’t I?”
/>
“Not sick.” Shane came to Gavin’s side. “Remember? It’s Alzheimer’s.”
Those two words next to each other hit Colleen: Remember plus Alzheimer’s equals Irony.
Gavin’s face broke into sadness. “Ah, yes. Well, that’s a hell of a thing to have, isn’t it?”
Shane’s voice shook. “We’re here, Dad. We are here for you.”
Colleen looped her arm through her dad’s and, together, they walked inside. Colleen cut through the back room and into the main area to sidle to the edge of the bar, with Shane on the other side. Gavin joined a group of friends at the dartboard and his boisterous laughter could soon be heard across the room. Colleen spoke to Shane in almost a whisper. “One thing the doc told me is that ritual and familiarity are two of the most calming forces for Dad. So having him here is good for him.”
“We have to talk to Hallie and make plans,” Shane said. “We have to . . .”
He abruptly quit speaking and Colleen followed his gaze to the front door, where a man entered the pub. Backlit in the setting sun he appeared as a silhouette, a cutout. As the door shut, he walked toward the middle of the room and his form became clear, the sunlight a spotlight: Walter.
He caught Colleen’s gaze.
She wanted to tear her eyes from his, to run, to at least move, but none of that happened. She froze.
She realized now that in her memory he’d been taller. How could that be? Damned unreliable memory. He, too, stopped still, standing halfway across the room.
“Oh, shit,” Shane said softly enough for only Colleen to hear. “Just what we need.”
His blue eyes. She could see them from where she stood. His wavy dark hair. His mouth was open in surprise, and her gaze was drawn to his lips. Those lips that had kissed her everywhere.
Her heart paused and then she was swept back in time: She was in a bridal veil with Swarovski crystals sewn by hand into swirling patterns. She was holding a bottle of champagne. She was sick and dizzy, and she couldn’t move one step toward or away from him. How had she thought she was now okay?
The Favorite Daughter Page 15