Family Secrets (Brannon House Book 2)

by Stacy Claflin

  “We need to take this one step at a time. Another day pass is a fantastic idea. Let’s do that a few more times to make sure she reacts consistently. Then we can discuss an overnight pass.”

  “What’s the problem? That’s her real home. Ember and I are her family.”

  “I understand that. But do you know how to take care of someone with such advanced dementia?”

  I straighten my back. “We did great the other day.”

  “That was a few hours. You didn’t have to give her any medicine or get her into bed.”

  “I’m sure I could handle giving my mother some medication and helping her into bed.”

  “Do you have a bed with a railing? She’s been prone to falling.”

  “I could get something.”

  She adjusts her collar. “And what if she has a breakdown? Do you have a plan for that? If she shouts and throws things?”

  “I grew up with her. I’m sure I can figure it out.”

  “Let’s talk after today’s outing.”

  “I can handle my own mother!” I narrow my eyes.

  “Is that why you moved to California?” She lifts a brow.

  “Excuse me?” I exclaim. “I moved there because I became an adult and wanted a different experience—not that it’s any of your business.”

  “All I’m saying is family dynamics are often complicated. And she was likely to have already experienced early symptoms back then, though you didn’t realize it. As a teenager, you probably viewed it as typical mother-daughter angst. Let’s give today a try, then we can discuss the possibility of a longer visit. Maybe an all-day one—morning to night. A few hours is different from overnight.”

  “Does that cut into the facility’s pay? Is that what this is about?”

  The nurse tilts her head. “No. It’s about patient safety. We have regulations in place for a reason.” She glances at a sheet of paper. “I need to check on another patient. Have a nice visit with your mother.”

  She takes off before I can say another word.

  I need to look into typical protocols and find out if this is normal. Claire and Richard moved Mom in here after my dad died, and I could see Richard setting up something formal regarding the length and time of Mom’s passes so he wouldn’t have to deal with her visiting his place.

  When I get back to her room, Ember jumps up from the couch. “Are we leaving? Is she staying overnight?”

  “Not yet. Has she said anything about what we discussed?”

  She glances at Mom, who’s still watching the TV, and shakes her head. “Nothing other than her show.”

  I take a deep breath. “Being at home will help. Even if it ends up being a slower process than we’d like.”

  While we’re getting her ready to go, a nurse comes in and goes over the details of the day pass with us, emphasizing the time Mom needs to come back. I push aside my irritation and stay friendly.

  I can’t help but feel like Richard is somehow pulling strings, even from behind bars.

  Finally, we’re in the car heading home. I pick up some takeout on the way, so we don’t lose any valuable time cooking. Ember and I need to spend as much of the visit as possible trying to jog Mom’s memories. It’s not like I expect her to spill the story about the knife today, but if we can make a little more progress than last time, maybe we can get closer to unearthing that story. She did bring up Jack again.

  Maybe she’d even remember the truth about the son she never mentioned to me.

  7

  Kenzi

  I dump the last of the chicken fried rice into a bowl and sit at the kitchen table. Mom chose the seat she always sat at when I was growing up. I also picked my usual chair. But all my memories are intact.

  Could she remember more than she’s letting on? There’s certainly a lot she has reason to hide. How many people need to keep a child and possible murder secret?

  Mom grabs her wrist, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening. “My bracelet! It’s gone!”

  I hold back a groan. “Is it the same one you lost in the car on Saturday?”

  “Oh, I never take it off.”

  “I’ll check the car after we eat.” I pick up my fork.

  She holds out her arm and rubs her wrist quickly. “I can’t do anything without my bracelet.”

  I place my fork onto the plate. “I’ll get it. It’s no trouble at all.”

  Her expression relaxes. “Thank you, Doris.”

  “I thought Ember was Doris,” I mumble.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” I push my chair back and force a smile. “I’ll be right back.”

  If it’s going to be like this, maybe it’s a good thing we didn’t get approved for the overnighter. I have no desire to chase down her jewelry constantly. If she loses it in this house, she’s straight up out of luck. I’m not turning this place upside down.

  Outside, I lean against the door, take a deep breath, and let the sun’s warm rays relax me. Once I’ve calmed a bit, I go to the Mercedes and check the passenger seat. The bracelet is exactly where it was when I had to run through the pouring rain to find it.

  I lock the car and wave to a well-dressed man, probably in his forties, walking his dog.

  He nods at me and walks over. “Hello, neighbor.”

  I clear my throat. “Uh, hi. You live around here?”

  The dude nods again and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “Two doors down. Name’s Dustin Wells. You are?”

  “Kenzi Brannon.” I hold out my hand.

  “Brannon?” He shakes, his grip firm. “You’re related to the original family.”

  “Yeah. I grew up here, actually.” I don’t know why I feel the need to explain anything to him. I can’t even tell if he’s being genuinely neighborly or not.

  He smiles, showing off his pearly whites. Straight and bright. A little too perfect. “It’s staying in the family. That’s wonderful news.”

  “It has since it was built.” I pull my hand from his grip.

  “Really?” He turns his attention to the house. “Is it true it’s the oldest home on the street?”

  “That’s right. The first in town, if I remember correctly. I need to brush up on my house’s history.”

  Dustin scratches his chin, still looking at my home. “It’s over a hundred years old, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe closer to two.” I try to remember all the things my parents told me growing up, but I never took any interest back then. Now I wish I’d paid more attention. I hadn’t expected Dad to pass away so soon after I left or for Mom to forget everything. But I did know they were getting up there in years. It shouldn’t have surprised me.

  “Two centuries?” Dustin looks at me, his smile fading. “I hadn’t realized it was so old. Was your family one of the first in the state?”

  I shrug. “No idea. Looks like I’m going to have to do even more digging than I thought.” I glance at the house, trying to see in the kitchen window. I can’t. “It was nice meeting you. I need to get back inside.”

  “Of course. If you want any help looking into the past events of the place, just let me know. I’m somewhat of a history buff, and this place has held my interest since my wife and I moved in.”

  “What’s so interesting about it?” I stare at the house, not seeing anything other than the place I grew up, now looking run down and sad—as if an inanimate object could actually have emotions.

  “It’s the oldest one on the street, and people talk. Seems there are more rumors than facts to be found.”

  “It’s just a house.” I throw him a questioning glance.

  He nods enthusiastically. “It’s the oldest in the area! There are so many stories. I’m so curious to know how many are true.”

  This guy seems odd. “Where did you say you live again?”

  He points down the street. “Two houses that way.”

  “Is it your family house too?”

  Dustin shakes his head. “No. We bought it and moved in just over five
years ago.”

  That explains the questions. He never would have met my parents, who’d have gladly told him everything they knew about the house. They loved telling the stories to anyone who would listen.

  “I’d better get inside.” I step away from him. “I’ll see you around.”

  He starts to say something, but I hurry away and wave, not wanting to get sucked into more conversation. I’d already told him I needed to go, yet he’d kept talking about the house.

  When I return to the kitchen, my niece and mother are nearly done eating.

  “Here’s your bracelet.” I hand it to her. “Exactly where it was the other day. You’ll have to be more careful with that if you don’t want to lose it.”

  “Oh, thank you. I don't know what I’d do without it.” She struggles with the clasp before sliding it on. “Can I walk around the house? It’s such a lovely home.”

  I glance at my full plate. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to eat.”

  “Take your time, Jane. I’ll just wander around myself.”

  Like that’s going to happen. I turn to Ember. “Stay with your grandmother. I’ll catch up in a few.”

  She nods, takes a few bites, then helps Mom up.

  “Really, I don’t want to be a bother. You don’t have to babysit me. I’m an old woman, not an imbecile.”

  Ember throws me a pleading glance.

  I smile at my mom. “We want to spend time with you. That’s why we brought you here.”

  “We both know that’s not true, dear. I’ve been wasting away in that room for years without a single visitor.”

  And there it is—the guilt trip. Even without her memories, that part of her is still there. How long until she reminds me what a disappointment I am? At least that would give me an opening to ask about my brother.

  “Ember and Claire visited you plenty of times, Mom.”

  She gives me an icy stare. “You didn’t.”

  A chill runs down my back, and I nearly drop my fork. “I was in LA, but I’m back now. Enjoy walking around. Maybe something will bring back some happy memories.”

  Mom turns around and takes slow steps out to the hall.

  Ember holds one of her arms and gives me another desperate look.

  “I’ll hurry.” I stuff some rice into my mouth and scarf the food down as quickly as I can. With each passing minute, I’m growing more relieved about not having Mom spend the night. She hasn’t mentioned anything useful yet, and she’s getting under my skin in the same ways that originally sent me running to another state.

  I finish my food then hurry into the hall without putting anything away. That can wait. We don’t have much time to try and pull memories from her before returning her to the retirement home.

  She and Ember are in Dad’s office. Mom is sitting at the desk, looking through a drawer.

  I step close to my niece and whisper, “How’s it going?”

  Ember shrugs. “She wanted to come in here. I tried to get her to go upstairs. Thought it’d be interesting for her to pass Jack’s room.”

  “I’d like to see her reaction to that.”

  “Or the door to the third floor.”

  I nod. “Did she say anything interesting?”

  “Not really. She talked about that show she was watching before insisting we come in here.”

  “What do you make of the bracelet that keeps going missing?”

  “I guess she likes it.”

  “It seems to me she’s using it to get rid of me.”

  Ember’s forehead wrinkles. “You think so?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me. What did she talk about while I was outside?”

  “Nothing really. She complained about not liking Chinese food.”

  “Seriously? That was her idea.”

  “Yep.”

  I draw in a deep breath before stepping closer to the desk. “Are you looking for something, Mom?”

  She doesn’t glance up. “We’re trying to bring back my memories, aren’t we? You say I used to live here. Maybe this desk has something. It seems important.”

  “This was Dad’s office. You never really came in here.”

  “Didn’t I?” She closes the drawer and opens another.

  “Are you sure you’re not looking for something?”

  “My memories.”

  “There are plenty of other rooms that will help with that.”

  No response. She keeps going through Dad’s things.

  “Jack has a room upstairs.”

  She looks up at me, her face paling. “Pardon?”

  “Jack.”

  “Oh, yes.” She tugs on a curl. “He’s such a nice boy.”

  “Maybe he’s in his room. What do you think?”

  Mom clears her throat. “This is your house. Wouldn’t you know if he’s here?”

  “He comes and goes as he pleases.”

  Her only response is to look away and pick up a framed photo of her and Dad at their wedding.

  I try to prompt her toward the answers I want. “That’s how Jack rolls. You know how brothers are.”

  She drops the picture. It hits the desk, then the wooden arm of the chair, and finally the hardwood floor. The glass shatters.

  “Look what you’ve done!” Mom’s wrinkled brows draw together as she turns to me. “What a mess!”

  My heart hammers as I walk around the massive desk. “I’ll clean that later.” I help her up. “Let’s get out of here for now.”

  “That picture! It’s ruined! You destroyed it!”

  “Only the glass is broken.” I bend down and pick up the photo, careful not to cut myself on the glass shards. “See? Not a scratch.”

  Her nostrils flare. “It could’ve been ruined!”

  “There are other copies, Mom. It would’ve been perfectly fine even if something had happened to this one.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She hits my hand away.

  “Mom!”

  “Leave me alone! Go away!”

  I step back away from her reach. “It wouldn’t be safe to leave you alone.”

  “Then leave me with the girl.”

  Ember whips her head toward me, eyes wide.

  I count to ten silently. “No. I need you to relax, or we’re going to have to take you back to your room.”

  Her stance relaxes. “My room? The room here? You’d take me upstairs?”

  “Ember already offered. Yes, we’ll take you there.”

  “She did no such thing.” Mom crosses her arms.

  Ember’s mouth drops open. “Yes, I did! You wanted to come in here.”

  My mother screams. It’s an ear-piercing sound, scarcely possible from such a frail woman.

  “Mom!” I put my hand on her arm.

  She swings at me, still hollering.

  Ember runs out of the room.

  “Stop!” I put both my hands on her shoulders and hold her gaze.

  She quits her yelling.

  My ears ring. “Do you want to be able to come back here again?”

  Her mouth forms a straight line.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  I step even closer, glass crunching under my shoes. “Then you can’t act like this. Do you understand? I spoke to your head nurse about possibly having you spend a night here, but that will never happen if you treat us like this.”

  She steps back, bumps into the chair. “Fine.”

  I struggle to catch my breath. “The other day, it seemed like this place helped to bring back some memories. Today, it’s done the opposite. Am I wrong?”

  Her eyes narrow.

  “Does coming here help? Do you want to come back again?”

  My mother nods. “Yes.”

  “Okay. In that case, I need you to show me. I’m about ready to tell that nurse you aren’t well enough to visit again.”

  Her mouth gapes slightly, and she shakes her head.

  “Let’s try a do-over with another room. Sound like a plan?” />
  She nods, her expression still tense. Her fists are balled, and her knuckles white.

  “Maybe this is too much stress on you. I was wrong about bringing you here.”

  “No! I want to be here.”

  I study her.

  She relaxes her hands and drops her glare. “I want my memories back.”

  “What do you remember?”

  Mom looks at the photo still in my hand.

  I hold it up. “You remember marrying Dad?”

  “I remember the picture.”

  “What about him?”

  She nods.

  “Does that mean you remember him?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Bill. That’s what I called him.”

  She’s right. Everybody else called him William, but at home she did call him by the nickname. “Okay. Let’s look around the rest of the lower level. Perhaps next time we can venture upstairs.”

  Mom twists her bracelet. “Can I have that photograph?”

  “Sure.” I hand it to her.

  She takes it gingerly and looks at it with a wistful expression.

  “Would you like to look around some more?”

  Without a word, she steps over the glass and walks around the other side of the desk toward the door.

  I catch up with her and stay next to her, but give her plenty of space.

  In the hallway, Ember looks back and forth between us. “I’m going to clean the glass.”

  “You can come with us,” Mom says.

  Ember shakes her head and hurries into the office.

  I turn to Mom. “You scared your granddaughter.”

  She frowns. “I know.”

  We wander down the hallway and peek into the library, the dance hall, and the other rooms. Mom stops near the back door and peers into a mirror that runs from the ceiling to the floor and has an ornate gold frame around it. Is she searching her reflection for memories of her past? Or perhaps seeing herself as the young bride in the picture she’s still clinging to?

  I start to say something, but then she turns to me. “I’m ready to go home now.”

  “To your room at the retirement facility?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Let’s find Ember.”

  She doesn’t budge. “You’ll bring me back again?”

  “If you promise to behave.” It’s kind of weird telling my mom to be good.