On Ocean Boulevard

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Cara shook her head.

  “She was always so busy, so involved,” Linnea continued. “Now she just sits in that house and reads and watches movies. She isn’t getting involved in anything. Not even her garden.”

  “Maybe she’s enjoying the peace. My mother did when she moved out to the island.”

  “I thought that too. Frankly, it’s easier to think that. But, Cara, it’s been almost two years. And you can’t compare her to Lovie. She always had her turtles—they were her passion. A woman needs to find her passion.”

  “A room of her own,” Cara said.

  “Right. In which to be creative. Mama needs to find that special something that’s all her own. We talked about this the other day. Mama was actually open to the idea of creating a small decorating business.”

  “Was she?”

  Linnea nodded. “So, my suggestion didn’t come out of nowhere. In fact, the project sort of dropped in my lap. Granny James,” then seeing Cara’s confused look, she added, “aka Mrs. James, needs a decorator.” She shrugged. “I went with my instinct. The problems she has with that big square house are exactly what I know mother can fix. She’s good.” Linnea released a long sigh, one that admitted her own fears. “I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds, but if I did, I did it for all the right reasons.”

  Cara studied her niece’s face and a smile eased across her own. “You have good instincts. Always did. Mama used to comment on it. I hope you’re right, Linnea. If Julia does decide to go forward with starting a business, I will shout it from the rooftops. As will Palmer.”

  “Daddy? You think so?”

  “Yes, why? Don’t you?”

  Linnea motioned with her hand. “He’s never been very supportive of Mama doing anything but volunteer work. And you remember how freaked he was about my going to work in California.”

  Cara snorted. “My brother can be a chauvinist pig, just like his daddy before him. Well, his finances have changed. He’d better welcome his wife’s support. He can use it.”

  Linnea homed in on this. “Are things that bad for him?”

  Cara dodged the question. “It’s really not my place to discuss it.”

  “Oh, come on, Aunt Cara. It’s no secret he almost went bankrupt. I’m just worried that my being at home again is going to be a burden.”

  “It’s not come to that,” Cara reassured her. “You’re only living in your bedroom. But I wouldn’t count on your parents to bankroll you. I think it’s fair to say their financial ship is on an even keel but in shallow waters. This house he’s building is his best chance for the future. He needs to make a neat profit. Your mother guiding the interiors is an important means of her support. I’m very proud of them both. They’ve gone to hell and back.”

  Linnea looked down at her hands resting in her lap. “I’m not helping, am I? I’ve been doing what you suggested, controlling the narrative. It’s working on my father, but my mother saw through me.”

  “I’m not surprised. That mother-daughter conection…” Cara paused. “It wasn’t meant so much for your parents as for you. I hoped you’d see that you are not a failure.”

  Linnea gave a short laugh. “It’s pretty hard to convince myself of that. I haven’t found a job yet. If I hear one more person say, ‘I’m sorry, there isn’t anything open at this time,’ I’ll scream.”

  Cara leaned closer to Linnea. “That’s why I called you over. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

  Linnea jerked her head up, her eyes wide with hope. “A job?”

  A smile twitched at Cara’s lips. “Not quite. More an internship.”

  Linnea straightened in attention.

  Cara continued, “We got a grant for education that will allow us to expand some of our programs. I could use some help. I asked, but the program won’t cover a paid assistant.” She raised one brow. “But I was granted a position for an intern with a modest stipend.” Seeing Linnea’s immediate reaction of hope, she lifted her hand. “It’s not much,” she cautioned, “but it is something. More importantly, this is an opportunity for you to get back in the game. Especially at the aquarium. It’s the best I can offer.”

  “Aunt Cara!” Linnea exclaimed. “Thank you. Thank you!” she repeated. “Education is what I’m most interested in. I don’t know how to tell you how important this is.” She was so excited she could hardly remain in her seat.

  “You don’t have to tell me—I know. I remember being scared and looking for a job. I didn’t have anyone to help me in Chicago. Believe me, it brings me pleasure to be able to help you. But you should know,” she said in a serious tone, “I need someone good, not just someone I know. There will be those who say that my choosing you smacks of nepotism. But it’s not. I truly believe you’re the most qualified for the position. If you’ll take it.”

  “Of course I’ll take it!”

  “It’s very little money,” she said again.

  “I’ll make do. It’s a chance. What are the hours?”

  “Full-time.”

  “Okay,” Linnea said, putting her fingertips to her temples as though to contain the whirl of possibilities. “I can manage. Living at home will help, of course.”

  “You can drive in with me to the aquarium on some days, but here’s the catch. You’ll need a car. There will be days you will have to go out into the community.”

  A cloud passed over Linnea’s expression.

  “So,” Cara said, her eyes bright. “I heard back from the garage about Mama’s VW.”

  “The Gold Bug?”

  Cara nodded. “Good news. It is an old car,” she began. “The tires were cracked; I had to replace those. And the oil hadn’t been changed in quite a while. My bad, I’m afraid. The brakes were flushed and bled, but the brake linings are fine, and the usual suspects were replaced—the fuel and air filters. Fortunately, the Gold Bug was kept out of the sun, so the interior is in pretty good shape. All in all, that car has a lot of miles left on it.” She leaned back and asked, “You do drive manual, don’t you?”

  Linnea laughed and wiggled her hand in the gesture that implied a little. “I’ll get better.”

  “Then that’s it. The Gold Bug is yours. We can go today to pick it up.”

  Linnea squealed with joy and leaped from her chair to embrace her aunt. Hearing the sound, Moutarde, the canary, burst into song.

  Linnea stepped back, hugging herself. “I can’t believe it. I’m so happy.”

  Cara smiled, turned her head and paused, listening. “Is that the doorbell? I can’t tell with all that cacophony.”

  The doorbell sounded again.

  “Stay put,” Linnea said. “I’m already up. I’ll get it.”

  Cara watched as Linnea stepped into the sunroom and strode to the side kitchen door, where someone was knocking rudely. She opened it and stepped back as the door whooshed open.

  Flo stomped in, her spiky white hair unbrushed, still wearing her nightgown.

  Cara was surprised to see Flo undressed at this hour of the day. “There you are!” Flo called out in a snappish tone. “Don’t you answer the door anymore? And when did you start locking it? I used to walk right in.”

  “I don’t know.…” Linnea stammered.

  Flo gazed around the room, taking stock, before letting her gaze settle on Linnea.

  “Well, Lovie,” she said in a satisfied huff, “it’s good to see you. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Those young ’uns don’t know what they’re doing on the team. We need to set things straight.”

  Frowning at the sound of Flo’s strident tone, Cara picked up Hope and walked into the sunroom. She was shocked to hear Flo call Linnea “Lovie.” Flo’s eyes were bright with confusion and she appeared frazzled as she stood in the center of the kitchen, wringing her hands and gazing around the room, searching.

  “Hello,” Cara called out as she entered the kitchen.

  Flo saw her and headed her way, huffing like a locomotive. “Cara, you’re back! When did you arrive? See?”
she said to Linnea. “They don’t tell me anything! That’s what I’m talking about. Lovie, we don’t have time for idle talk. We have a problem. They’re not telling us when they find nests!” She shook her finger. “But I know. I hear them talking. They’re hiding them from us. They’ll listen to you. They always listen to you.”

  Linnea’s face was ashen. She tried to smile and said softly, “Flo? I’m Linnea.”

  “What’s that?”

  Cara stepped closer to Flo. “That’s Linnea,” she said in a calm, even-toned voice.

  Flo looked at Linnea, confusion in her eyes, followed by fear.

  “I know who you are,” she snapped. Then she looked around, her agitation spiking. “Where am I? I’m not home. I need to go home.”

  The side door swung open again and Emmi stepped into the kitchen. She was wearing her uniform of fishing pants and a Turtle Team T-shirt. Her eyes were wide with worry and relief. “There you are!” she said, approaching Flo. She put her arms around the old woman’s shoulders. “You had me worried. I asked you not to run out of the house like that.”

  Flo took several calming breaths, then lifted her head and glared at Emmi. “I didn’t run anywhere,” she said shrewishly. “I walked over to see my friend Lovie. Same as I always do. Now, stop fussing at me, child. Isn’t it time for you to go home? Your mother will be worried.”

  Emmi looked up to meet Cara’s gaze, her usually cheerful countenance drawn with worry. It was clear she was reaching the breaking point. In Emmi’s green eyes, red with fatigue, Cara read the message of grief that the time had come to make serious decisions about Flo’s care, that Emmi had reached the end of her ability to care for her. Cara nodded in silent understanding and agreement.

  “Let’s go home,” Emmi told Flo, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “I have some nice soup waiting for you. Chicken noodle, your favorite.”

  Flo appeared suddenly exhausted and subdued. “Good,” she said, nodding meekly. “Chicken noodle. That’s my favorite,” she repeated.

  Cara put Hope on the ground and tilted her chin with her hand. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just going to walk Aunt Flo home. Linnea will stay with you.” She looked up to confirm with Linnea, who nodded.

  Cara moved to open wide the kitchen door. She watched as Flo took cautious steps to the ground, her frail hand holding the railing tight. In the harsh sunlight Cara saw the thin hair on Flo’s head, exposing scalp. Her skin, which had always been tanned, was pale. When had she lost so much weight? Flo looked so frail and so… old.

  Emmi hovered, and Cara’s heart went out to her friend, getting a solid glimpse of what her life had been like the past year as Flo’s slide into Alzheimer’s progressed. Emmi had lost weight too, and her clothes were wrinkled. Cara walked behind the pair, fully aware of what decisions would have to be made.

  * * *

  FLO ATE HER soup, refused a salad, and went upstairs to take a nap without any fuss. Cara and Emmi looked at her asleep in her bed, and they both felt awash with love for the older woman who’d been a second mother to them both.

  They returned to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of coffee and sat together, as they so often did, at the wooden table to talk. Emmi told Cara, “She’s gone downhill quickly.” She shook her head. “So fast. Before, it was manageable. She’d have spells of forgetfulness, confusion, then get over them and be the same ol’ Flo. Which could be a pain in the ass, but not frightening.”

  “There was the wandering.…”

  Emmi sighed. “Yes. Just like her mother before her. I was prepared for that. I did what Flo did for Miranda and took to locking the doors. I got her one of the alert bracelets. It worked for a while, but Flo always managed to find escape routes. In the past month, almost since the beginning of sea turtle season, she’s started refusing to eat. Bathing has become a fight. And her personal care… She was always so careful about hygiene, like an old head nurse. Remember how she used to check our necks and behind our ears? But now…” Emmi shook her head. “There are days she doesn’t get dressed. It’s a fight to try to help her. And…” She looked haunted. “She’s getting paranoid.”

  “As in suspicious?”

  Emmi nodded. “She thinks I’m keeping secrets. Especially about the turtles. And”—Emmi twisted her fingers—“she’s right. I am. I don’t tell her when I get a call about a nest anymore. I can’t,” she exclaimed, looking at Cara with a need to be understood. “She’s becoming unpredictable at the nests. She can’t do anything anymore. The last few years she tagged along quite cheerfully. I’d let her do a few chores, but she got winded so easily and didn’t complain. Lately, though, she’s acting like she’s still in charge of the team. Giving orders to the others, which confuses them. And when they don’t comply, she grunts in frustration and tries to do the duties herself. When I try to stop her, she gets abusive.”

  “Oh no,” Cara said on a sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Emmi shook her head. “I don’t know. It never seemed like the right time. I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t handle it. But her actions are interfering with the team’s efforts, and spirit. I had to make the tough decision. So, now she’s upset that I’m not telling her about the nests.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cara said, knowing how hard that decision had to come.

  “The irony is, I actually do tell her,” Emmi said. “But not until after we’ve finished moving and posting them. I have to sneak out of the house to tend to the nests in the morning. Then I lock up the house behind me. I hate leaving her alone, but she can’t come along, not anymore. She’s just… acting crazy.” Tears filled Emmi’s eyes.

  “Emmi…”

  “I’m so damn sorry it’s come to this. I know the turtles are her life. But I have a responsibility to the team. It’s a vicious circle—I don’t tell her we found a nest, but then she finds out we did, and she gets all agitated at not being consulted. She wants to call Lovie.”

  “That’s what happened today,” said Cara. “She saw Linnea and thought she was Lovie.”

  “They look a lot alike. It adds to her confusion.”

  “Could she come to the nests and have a volunteer be her… her escort?”

  “We tried that. But you know Flo when she has a bee in her bonnet. She wouldn’t listen to some volunteer. She became uncontrollable, pushing the volunteer away, telling her to mind her own business. Then she’d go up to the nest and try to shoo away the volunteer who was digging the nest, tell them that they were doing it wrong and she’d have to do it. It’s a nightmare.”

  Cara thought about the problem, but it didn’t take long to arrive at the answer. “I think the time has come, Emmi.”

  Emmi shook her head, murmuring, “I don’t think I can send her to a home. This is the only home she’s ever known. She grew up in it. Think how confused she’ll be in some strange place.”

  “She’s already confused. Emmi, you’ve taken care of her for a long time. Given her extra time in this house. In the beginning stage, there were no serious safety issues. But we have to face the facts. Her wandering is a serious problem. She’s not eating well and losing weight. And it’s not good for her to stay locked up in here alone. That’s got to be frightening for her, and you too. Besides, she’s a Houdini. She gets out.”

  Emmi listened quietly, then said, “I’ll hire a house sitter.”

  “You’ve said you were going to do that for weeks now.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “You have to. Or I will. This can’t continue.”

  “I think I’m the best judge of that.”

  “What was that look, then? In the kitchen?”

  “I was frightened. I couldn’t find her. I…” Emmi put her hands to her face. “I don’t know. I don’t want to argue. Truth told, I’m too tired to decide. Between the nests coming full force during the day, my working part-time, and Flo waking up at all hours in the night, I just need a good sleep.”

  “You need help,” Cara said. She reached out
to put her hand over Emmi’s.

  “My giving you money isn’t enough anymore. Your care isn’t enough anymore. Flo needs full-time care, specialized care, so she doesn’t hurt herself. Or you.”

  “Part of me agrees with you. Part of me also knows that once we make that decision, there’s no going back. It’s kind of like… she’s dying.”

  “She’s not. This can go on for a long time.” Cara’s tone was decisive, and Emmi nodded in agreement. “Let’s begin by hiring a nurse. Then we can take the time to scope out the area and visit memory care centers. Palmer gave me the name of a place he heard was very nice. We can start there.”

  Emmi nodded, relief shining in her moist eyes. “Okay. I think that’s a good idea. Let’s see what our options are.” She slumped in her chair, her lids half-lowered. She looked as if she was about ready to fall asleep in the chair.

  “Okay. You go up and take a nap. I’ll begin research,” Cara said. “I know how to do that.”

  Emmi rose slowly. “Thank you, my friend.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The Battery stretches along the southernmost tip of the Charleston Peninsula, where the Cooper River and Ashley River meet to form Charleston Harbor. With its scenic promenade and historic park, the Battery is one of downtown Charleston’s most beloved landmarks.

  THE GOLD BUG was a roadworthy car, Linnea thought as she gazed lovingly at the old VW Beetle. The old car was in prime condition. The gold shone in the sunlight, and with the black convertible top folded down, it looked nothing short of adorable. It was no wonder everyone had known the Gold Bug when Lovie drove it years ago. Cara had been generous to get the leather seats buffed and the wood console polished. All Linnea had to do was hang a cute air freshener on the rearview mirror.

  The gearshift was a skinny rod sticking up from the floor, and it was a challenge to master the gearshift pattern. Well, she thought with a laugh, master might be an optimistic word. She’d stalled several times just driving it home from Isle of Palms to Sullivan’s Island. When she’d pulled over on the bridge, a cute guy in a pickup had stopped and asked if she needed help. The car was the equivalent of a puppy as a magnet for the opposite sex.