A Flicker of Light

by Katie Powner

  Jeremy gave her a lazy smile and nodded toward the door. “Ready?”

  She smiled back, believing for the first time that maybe she was.

  They rode out to his parents’ house all together this time. Bea and Jeremy kept to themselves in the back of the truck, but Mitch kept glancing over at the passenger seat, reminding himself that man over there was his brother. Only half, technically, but more brother than he’d ever had.

  Ken watched the world go by through the window. “It’s beautiful out here.”

  “I’m partial to it myself.”

  “I saw pictures in your house of you with a dark-haired woman.”

  Mitch’s forehead wrinkled. “Caroline.”

  “What happened?”

  “Cancer. Two years ago.”

  Ken tore his gaze from the scenery and looked at him. “I’m sorry.”

  Mitch nodded. He’d heard all about Ken’s wife, Marianne, yesterday, as well as plenty of other details about Ken’s life that would normally take a number of visits to discover. Ken, though, knew next to nothing about Mitch or his life. Had no idea what he faced now with his mother’s health, well, their mother’s health, going downhill like it was.

  “Look, about yesterday—”

  “How long has she been this way?” Ken cut in. “Confused, I mean.”

  “It happened fast.” Mitch searched his memory for a definite sign—something unmistakable to point to and say this is where it all began—but couldn’t find one. There was only before he realized his mom had changed and after. “We’re still getting used to it.”

  Ken turned his face back to the window. “And she never said anything about me at all? Not even when you were a kid?”

  The longing in his voice was a seedling reaching its green arms to the sky. Hopeful but prepared to be crushed underfoot. Mitch slowly shook his head.

  “How could she just let me go?”

  Ken’s words seemed to be directed at himself, but Mitch answered anyway. “We may never know the whole story.”

  “If only I’d found her sooner. I thought if I could just get here, everything would make sense. I wish . . .”

  The road and the silence stretched out before them. Mitch didn’t need Ken to finish telling him what he wished. Mitch knew. It was the same thing he wished. That things could’ve turned out differently.

  “Me too,” he said.

  Ken glanced over. Mitch had one eye on the road, but with the other he caught a subtle change in his brother’s expression.

  Ken sighed. “You’re losing her, too.”

  Though the words held a note of painful finality, somehow Mitch found comfort in them. For just a moment, he was not alone.

  “I’d like you to meet my family sometime.” Ken drummed his leg with his fingers. “If you want.”

  Mitch nodded. “I’d like that.”

  As they neared the house, he checked the time: 9:42 a.m. He’d hoped to get out the door sooner, but Bea had been moving slowly. He had to get Ken back to his rental car by noon if he was going to make it to Ponderosa in time to catch his flight. That didn’t give them much time.

  The sky was clear overhead, but clouds charged over the ridge of the mountains like an army surging into battle. The temperature had dropped steadily the past three days, and snow threatened. It would drive more animals into the foothills. Had Ken ever been hunting? Did he know anything about running a ranch?

  Mitch parked close to the house, and they all climbed out. Rand’s limp seemed more pronounced today as he walked over to meet them. The hard look he’d had in his eyes yesterday was gone.

  “Hey, Dad. You doing okay?”

  Rand took several breaths, hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans, and studied the mountain before answering. “I was mad.”

  The others took their cue from Mitch and waited.

  “Just don’t see how anyone could ever treat June like that,” Rand said. “Made me want to wring Ethan’s neck. If I would’ve known at the time . . .”

  Mitch peered at his father’s face, remembering what Frank had said about loving the church no matter what she did. His dad hadn’t been angry about his wife having a child without him. About her keeping it a secret. He’d been angry at how she’d been hurt.

  “How’s Mom today? After all that?”

  Rand looked down. “I’m afraid she’s not doing so good.”

  Ken frowned. “What’s the matter? Is she sick?”

  “Mebbe.”

  Mitch’s heart sank. He and Bea had both worried last night that his mom had overdone it. “Where is she?”

  “Inside. On the couch. You can go on in, but don’t expect much.”

  A feeling of irony stung Mitch as he watched Ken hurry into the house. It wasn’t fair. To be reunited with your mother, to learn she’d never forgotten you all this time, only to watch her memories fade away.

  They all crowded into the house and shuffled to find seats. Ken and Bea joined his mom on the couch, one on each side.

  She smiled at them politely, as if they were strangers on the train. “Hello.”

  “Hi.” Ken fidgeted like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. “Do you remember me?”

  “Hmm.” She tilted her head, eyeing him intently. “Aren’t you that nice boy from the Food Farm? The one they hired for the meat counter?”

  “No, Mom. It’s Ken. Uh, Marshall.”

  “Ken Marshall? Oh, well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Juniper.” She patted his knee. “I’m sorry, I thought you were Todd. From the meat counter.”

  Mitch gave his dad a quizzical look and whispered, “Todd?”

  Rand shrugged. “I think there was a man there named Todd when we were kids.”

  Mitch felt like he’d been punched. He wasn’t prepared for this. Wasn’t ready. His mother’s deterioration was supposed to be more gradual. He was supposed to have more time to figure out a way to come to grips with it.

  Ken was right. He was losing her.

  For half an hour, Ken and Bea asked his mother questions and tried to explain who they were. She smiled graciously, nodded her head, and said, “Aren’t you a character?” while the dread in Mitch’s heart grew far and wide. His shoulders tightened. “Far and wide as the open arms of Jesus,” as his mother would say.

  When she began to wring her hands and laugh nervously, Rand cleared his throat. “Maybe I can show you around the ranch a bit, Ken. Then I think you all better go.”

  Ken’s face fell, and Mitch frowned. He hated that Ken might never get to see his mother how she’d been, with all the spunk and spark Mitch had always taken for granted. Might never be the recipient of the withering glare she gave when someone used the Lord’s name in vain, or take a big bite of her apple pie the way it was meant to be.

  “Okay.” Ken stood and gave June a little bow. “It was nice to meet you, Mom . . . uh, Ms. Juniper.”

  Her eyes darted around the room. “Yes, yes. Nice to meet you, too, dear.”

  Jeremy stood as well and joined Ken. “I haven’t gotten the grand tour, either. Mind if I tag along?”

  Mitch glanced over at Bea.

  She waved a hand. “You guys go ahead. I’ll stay with Grandma.”

  Mitch followed his father, brother, and son-in-law out the door, thankful the weather today lent itself to showcasing the ranch in its best light. He had so many things he wanted Ken to see. The places that had been special to him as a child. The places where he and Ken would’ve built forts or snuck cigarettes if Ken had been here. He’d missed so much.

  As Mitch stepped off the porch, he watched Ken slow his pace to match Rand’s and pressed his lips together. Maybe it was better not to dwell on all the things Ken had missed. Maybe he should just let his brother enjoy what was.

  Today was more important than yesterday, after all.

  FORTY-SIX

  Ken stood in the front hall, his small duffel at his feet. Mitch stood close by, clearing his throat, trying to figure out how to say good-bye.


  “I wish there was something I could do to help.” Ken nudged his bag with his toe. “I’m expected at work tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” Mitch rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. “I understand. I wish you could’ve had more time with her.”

  Ken nodded. “I’m sorry I turned up unannounced, but if I’d waited any longer . . .”

  “I’m glad you came when you did.”

  Ken picked up his bag. “Christmas is in six weeks. Do you think it’d be all right if we came back for a few days? Me and Marianne?”

  Mitch hesitated, surprised. Even after his mom’s behavior this morning, he wanted to visit again so soon?

  “We don’t have to.” Ken shifted on his feet. “I don’t want to impose.”

  “No, no, that would be great.” Mitch held out a hand. “We’d love to have you. You’ll stay here with us.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course.”

  Ken shook his hand, then pulled him in for a hug. Mitch wasn’t much of a hugger, but you only meet your long-lost brother for the first time once. They squeezed each other tightly, then Mitch pulled away.

  “Well, you don’t want to miss your flight,” he said.

  Ken cleared his throat, grabbed his bag, and opened the door. “We’ll talk soon.”

  “Okay.” Mitch gave his brother a nod. “Soon.”

  Ken waved down the hall at Bea and walked out, closing the door behind him.

  Mitch moved to the living room and watched through the window as Ken hopped into his rental car and drove away. Mitch hated how he was losing his mother. Hated the helplessness. Hated how dementia could turn a vibrant and flourishing brain into a gray, murky wasteland. And yet God was bringing something good from it all. For all his losing, it looked like he was gaining, too.

  “Dad? You okay?”

  He turned around. There before him was another significant gain: a grandchild. He’d almost lost Bea once, pushing her away like he did when Caroline died. Then he’d looked at her having to move back home as proof he’d been right about her marrying Jeremy. But what if it was just God’s way of giving him another chance?

  A chance he’d almost blown. But she wasn’t gone yet.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Bea waited.

  “I never should’ve said what I said about you and Jeremy.”

  “Dad—”

  “I was wrong. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you after your mother died. I got . . . lost.” Mitch pictured Caroline’s face. Her hands. The shape of her legs and the curve of her neck when he brushed her chestnut hair out of the way to kiss it. He hadn’t been ready to say good-bye. “It’s been hard to figure out what to do without her. How to be. But your marrying Jeremy wasn’t a mistake.”

  Unshed tears shone in Bea’s eyes. “It was hard for me, too.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought getting away from here would help—I thought I could move on—but at college I was so alone. I didn’t fit in. Something was always missing. Until I met Jeremy.”

  “Is that why you quit school? Because you didn’t fit in?” He wanted to understand. She’d always insisted it wasn’t because of her marriage, but what else could it have been?

  “That was part of it.”

  He moved closer, wanting to hold her but unsure if he’d ever be able to let go. “What was the other part?”

  “I was scared, okay? I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I didn’t want to disappoint you. And there were bad memories there. I was attacked—” She cut herself off and looked away as if she hadn’t meant to say the words. Blood pounded in his temples.

  “You were what?”

  She held up her hands. “Nothing happened. Jeremy saved me. I know I told you we met through a mutual friend, but that wasn’t really true. He rescued me from an assault.”

  Mitch’s mouth went dry. His baby girl attacked? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She hesitated. “I shouldn’t have been walking alone. I wanted to pretend it never happened.”

  Anger and regret rolled around in his mouth like a pinch of chew from a Skoal can. “You should be able to walk wherever you want.” His fists clenched. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No. It just . . .”

  “Just what?”

  “Scared me.”

  He shook out his hands. Took a deep breath. He hadn’t been there to protect her. “Jeremy saved you?”

  She nodded.

  “And you’re okay?”

  She nodded again. “I promise.”

  He couldn’t hold back any longer. He wrapped his arms around her, knowing it was like trying to grasp a snowflake in his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  She submitted to the hug for a moment, then pulled away. “It was Jeremy’s idea to take a break from school for a little while. He knew how much I was struggling.”

  Jeremy knew. Mitch hung his head. He hadn’t known. He’d been too buried under his own grief. Too unbending in his expectations. Too quick to judge. “I’m glad you did.”

  She gave him a skeptical look. “You are?”

  “You guys were right to make that decision together. That’s how it should be.”

  It had been easy for him to question Jeremy’s place in Bea’s life—to want to always be the one she turned to in times of trouble—but he knew what Caroline would do if she were here. She’d hum Bob Carlisle’s “Butterfly Kisses,” pat his cheek, and tell him to get over it.

  His voice was thick. “Your mother would be proud of you.”

  “I miss her so much.”

  “Me too.”

  “I wish we could talk about her.”

  “We will.” He’d thought holding the pain and memories inside, keeping them to himself, would prevent Caroline from slowly fading away. But all it had done was put up a wall. “From now on, we can talk about her anytime you want.”

  Bea nodded. “Okay.”

  He put a hand on her shoulder, and for a moment they stood together, remembering. Then a low rumble caught his attention.

  Bea put a hand on her stomach. “Can we eat lunch now? The baby’s hungry.”

  Mitch studied his daughter. Marge had been right. This baby was coming whether the ideal situation ever did or not. “I can’t wait to meet this baby.”

  Bea’s eyes widened. “Really?”

  “He’s going to take after his grandpa, I bet.” Mitch grinned and held out his arm. “Right this way to the kitchen.”

  They found Jeremy there, pulling items from the fridge to make sandwiches. Mitch caught his eye and nodded.

  Jeremy nodded back. “Ken get on the road okay?”

  Bea grabbed an apple from the bowl and began slicing it. “Yep. I feel bad Grandma didn’t recognize him today.”

  “That was rough.” Jeremy snuck a potato chip from an open bag. “Did the doctor say she could get so bad so fast?”

  Mitch shook his head. “He never said she couldn’t. He said dementia is very unpredictable.”

  Bea pulled three plates from the cupboard. “I don’t like seeing her that way.”

  “Me neither.” Mitch watched Bea take bread from a bag. Maybe there would be another good thing to come out of all this. Maybe now Bea would understand why they had to move his mother to an assisted-living home in Ponderosa. “Which reminds me—I’ve narrowed it down to two places for Mom in Ponderosa. I’ve got meetings with both of them on Saturday.”

  Bea dropped the butter knife she was holding into a jar of mayonnaise. “You’re still on that? No.”

  “It’s up to me to figure this out. Not you.”

  Bea threw up her hands. “You can’t fix this one by yourself, Dad.”

  His nostrils flared. Yes, he could. He had to. Who else was there? He was on his own. Caroline was gone. Bea wasn’t his anymore. Even Ken was gone.

  The whole thing stunk like cow pies in the sun. He eyed the chair nearest him and shoved it in, slamming it against the table. The fre
ezer spit out three small chunks of ice in response. They clattered off the tray and onto the floor.

  One piece landed in front of Steve, who jumped to his feet and batted it across the floor. It shot out of the kitchen. Steve chased it, sending it skidding down the hall. Mitch followed the sliding of the ice and the scritch-scratch of the cat’s claws on the laminate floor with his ears until there was silence. A few moments later, Steve reappeared, looking downcast, no ice cube in sight.

  “Where’d it go, Steve?” Jeremy asked.

  Mitch narrowed his eyes. Wait a minute. Wait just a minute. He hurried down the hall to his bedroom, and Steve eagerly followed. Mitch opened the door.

  Aha.

  There, sitting on the carpet just inside his room, was the piece of ice, already beginning to melt. Steve pounced on it, sending it back into the hall.

  A tickle of laughter started in Mitch’s stomach and worked its way up to his throat. “You really had me stumped, you little rascal.”

  He headed back to the kitchen, a new lightness in his step. Maybe Bea was right. He couldn’t fix the problem with his parents on his own. Or maybe at all. And apparently, he couldn’t fix the fridge to save his life. But that didn’t mean things weren’t going to be okay.

  A light tap at the front door stopped him on his way to the kitchen. He changed course and pulled it open.

  “Hi, there.” Marge smoothed her hair with one hand and held a plate covered in foil with the other. “Who was that you had over here last night?”

  He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter, which she seemed more than happy to do.

  “You’ll never believe it,” he said.

  And he found he couldn’t wait to tell her all about it.

  Bea chewed her sandwich and watched warily as her dad and Marge chatted on the other side of the table. He was telling her the whole story about Ken and Grandma June, and she was eating it up.

  “I didn’t want to say anything earlier.” Jeremy leaned close so that only she could hear. “But I think it’s time to quit the Food Farm.”

  “The assistant-manager job would get us through until your business takes off. It wouldn’t be that bad.”