All Fired Up

by Kristen Painter

  The return address on one of envelopes addressed to her caught her eye. Genesis Assisted Living. She ripped it open. It was a bill for forty-five hundred dollars and it had her father’s name listed under patient. She scanned the paper, trying to make sense of it. Why was dad listed as a patient in an assisted living center? What was going on?

  Uncle Corri would know.

  The phone rang twice before the receptionist answered it. “McCarthy, Davis and Reagan. How may I direct your call?”

  “Corrigan McCarthy, please.” She started a pot of coffee while she waited to be put through. After an endless Muzak interlude, her uncle picked up.

  “Corrigan McCarthy.”

  “Uncle Corri! I have a question for you—“

  “Calleigh love, why didn’t you tell Marta it was you? She would’ve put you through quicker.”

  “It’s okay. I just have a question. What’s this bill from Genesis Senior Living doing here?” And what is Daddy’s name doing on it? She hoped he offered enough info so she didn’t have to come right out and ask. He would think she was losing her mind.

  He sighed. “Did that come to you again? I’ve filled out the bloody paperwork three times already trying to get them to switch that billing address. Don’t worry about it, just give it to yer Aunt Moreen when she comes to pick you up.”

  “Aunt Moreen is coming to pick me up?” Calleigh didn’t want to sound like she didn’t know what was going on, but she didn’t. She knew things were going to be different. How different was the question.

  “Of course, unless you changed your mind about visiting your mother.”

  Visiting her mother? Where was her mother? Was she in some nursing home, too? “No, of course not. I just forgot it was today, is all. Around noon, right?” she bluffed.

  “Unless you changed the time with your aunt, I think she’s still coming at ten.”

  “Ten! Oh yeah, that’s right. Don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “It’s okay, love. You’ve had a lot on you lately with yer dad and all. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Okay, talk to you later.” She hung up more confused than when she started. What had happened to Dad? In a few more hours, Mom would straighten everything out.

  She stared at the bill while she drank her coffee. When the caffeine finally entered her bloodstream, she picked up the phone again and dialed the number on the paper.

  “Genesis Assisted Living.”

  “Hi. I got a bill—“

  “Is this a billing question? Please hold.”

  “No! Wait, I—” “Stairway to Heaven” on pan flute filled the receiver. How oddly appropriate for a nursing home, she thought.

  Finally someone answered. “Mrs. Lynch, billing. How can I help?”

  “Hi, my name is Calleigh McCarthy and I received a bill with my dad’s name on it and I was wondering if I could get an update on his condition.”

  “This is billing. I’m going to have to transfer you to patient care.”

  More Muzak. More waiting.

  “Patient care, Doreen speaking.”

  “Hi Doreen, I’m trying to get an update on my father’s condition, can you help me?”

  “Your father’s name or patient number?”

  “Eagan McCarthy.” She scanned the bill for a number. “22-14-62.”

  “Just a moment.” More Muzak. “Your name please?”

  “Calleigh McCarthy.”

  “I’m sorry Ms. McCarthy, you’re not listed as Mr. McCarthy’s guardian. I can’t release any information about him to you.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m his daughter! Of course you can release his information to me.” What twisted reality had she wished herself into?

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. The patient privacy act of New York forbids releasing this kind of information to anyone but the patient’s guardian.”

  “And who, exactly, might that be? Can you at least tell me that?” Frustration stung her eyes.

  “Corrigan McCarthy is the listed guardian.”

  She was going to have to ask Uncle Corri what was going on after all. Or maybe not…there was one more possibility. “Can you give me Eagan McCarthy’s room number?”

  “1217.”

  “Thank you.” Calleigh hung up. A slight tremble shook her hands as she hit redial.

  “Genesis Assisted Living, how may I direct your call?”

  “Room 1217, please.”

  There was a brief pause. “I’m sorry, those rooms don’t have phones for safety reasons.”

  “Safety reasons?” The trembling kicked up a notch.

  “Well, you know how they can be. Just last week one of them got into the nurses’ station and made a long distance call to Sri Lanka. Just pushing buttons, the poor thing, but still, someone has to pay the charges.”

  Calleigh’s vision blurred a little. “What section is room 1217 in?”

  “That’s the Autumn wing.”

  “The Autumn wing?”

  “The Alzheimer’s and dementia center.”

  She mumbled a thank you and dropped the phone into the cradle before falling back into her chair. Alzheimer’s and dementia. She slipped her hands around her coffee cup, craving the warmth on her skin.

  Daddy hadn’t died of a heart attack but this wasn’t better. She couldn’t imagine her father with such a terrible disease. He was so sharp-witted. The most brilliant man she’d ever known.

  She shook her head. Her father did not belong in a home with strangers looking after him. She’d talk to her mother this afternoon. They’d bring him home and take care of him.

  She drained her coffee and went to take a shower.

  By 9:45, she was pacing, wondering why Aunt Moreen couldn’t be early for once in her life.

  When her aunt pulled up, Calleigh jumped in the car. The sweet smell of lilies greeted her. A bouquet of the white flowers, her mother’s favorite, rested on the back seat.

  “How’s my favorite niece this morning?”

  “Do you think you could take me by to see Dad later this afternoon?” She buckled her seatbelt, wondering if her mom would look any different.

  “And good morning to you, too.” Moreen leaned over and kissed Calleigh’s cheek. “Of course I’ll take you to see yer father, if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

  “It is, yes. Thank you and good morning. Sorry, I guess I just have a lot of stuff on my mind.”

  “It’s all right, love. I know you do. Bridget said to tell you hi and to remind you about the feis.”

  Calleigh smiled. Not that much had changed after all. She lost herself in a lengthy conversation about Bridget and the twins.

  When Moreen brought the car to a stop, Calleigh took a good look at her surroundings for the first time since she’d been in the car.

  “What are we doing here?”

  “To visit your mother, child. That’s the whole reason we came.” Her aunt reached into the back seat for a bouquet of lilies.

  Calleigh shook her head in disbelief. Her knuckles whitened as her grip on the door handle tightened. “No. Not here. This isn’t right. This isn’t what I wanted.”

  ***

  “In a hurry, Viking?”

  Alrik swung around, Calleigh’s hourglass still in his grasp. He quickly flipped it over so her change would begin and placed the timepiece back on the shelf. “I do not know what you mean, goddess.”

  She trailed her hand over the globes of a few hourglasses as she came toward him. The crystal grains jumped in response to her fingers passing by. What havoc had she just wrecked with her whim? A love lost? A friendship ended? A lie revealed?

  “Then you were on your way to see me? I think not.” She stood before him now, the shimmering blue of her diaphanous pleated gown the perfect match for her eyes.

  “Each Phoenix must come before me and announce the change their charge wishes to affect. You know that. And yet, I find you here, in the Hall of Time, inducing your charge’s change while I know nothing of it.”

/>   The chill of her gaze swept over him. For once it held no lust, just anger. Let the goddess feel what she would. He cared little about pleasing her.

  “My charge has requested I return to her as soon as possible.”

  “Requested?” The venom in her voice was unmistakable.

  “Commanded.”

  His answer did nothing to soften her temper. “And so you must scurry back like a lovesick errand boy?”

  “I am not lovesick. And if I am an errand boy, it is only what you have made me.” He clenched his hands into fists.

  She tossed her head back and laughed. “What I have made you? You became a Phoenix of your own free will.”

  “I must go.” He brushed past. She grabbed his arm, her fingers icy on his skin.

  “You are not dismissed. I do not care what your precious mortal has commanded, I am not done with you, Viking.” She pulled him closer.

  “I know you desire her. I see it in your eyes when you speak of her. Slake your lust with me and I promise you more pleasure than that ordinary creature could even dream of giving you.”

  Her honeyed tone sickened him. He yanked his arm out of her grasp. “She is not ordinary.”

  The cold fire returned to Freya’s narrowed eyes. “You love her.”

  “I love no one.”

  “You loved Dagny.” The goddess shook her head and snorted in disgust. “I see now how easy it must have been for her to bring you down.”

  If Freya had slapped him, he would have felt it less. The bitter sting of her words caused his blood to rise. Goddess or not, it matter little. He would not contain his rage this time. He opened his mouth to speak when another voice rang out.

  “Freya, my love. I have been looking for you.” Eros stood in the arched doorway leading into the Hall of Time. He wore nothing but a short wrap of linen about his hips. He shot Alrik a quick glance before speaking to the goddess again, his voice thick with emotion. “I have need of you, my lady.”

  Alrik heard an undercurrent of something else in the demi-god’s otherwise hungry plea.

  A pleased smile lit Freya’s face. “Of course you do, pet. How good of you to seek me out.”

  She moved past Alrik, speaking to him without taking her eyes off Eros’ nearly naked form. “Go to your charge, Viking. I will deal with you when your time with her is up.”

  Not until Freya was nuzzling Eros’s neck did he make eye contact with Alrik again. It was a look the Viking instantly recognized, but his thoughts returned to Calleigh. There would be time enough later to wonder what payment Eros would exact in exchange for distracting the goddess.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “What are you talking about, lass? You told me yourself you wanted to visit yer mother last week.” Aunt Moreen looked at Calleigh with deep concern.

  “Not here. Why here? This isn’t right.” Calleigh stared out the window at the cold granite headstones. “This can’t be right.”

  “Sweet child, you’ve had a rough few weeks. Maybe it’s best I just take you home. In fact, why don’t you come stay with us for a while? It must be terrible lonely in that house by yerself.”

  Calleigh turned to look at her aunt. “This is a cemetery.”

  Moreen nodded slowly, gravely. “That’s right, love. Come on now, let’s go home.”

  “My mother is here?” An old, familiar pain sprung to life in Calleigh’s gut.

  Moreen nodded again. “That’s right.”

  “Why? She wasn’t supposed to die.” This was wrong. This was not what she wanted.

  “I know, love. It was a terrible accident.” Moreen patted Calleigh’s hand. “Blasted drunk drivers. At least they took that man’s license away and threw him into prison where he belongs. It’ll be a cold day in a very hot place before he walks the streets a free man.”

  No, no, no. A drunk driver had killed her mother? Why had this happened? When had this happened? The headstone would tell her that much. “Can I give her those lilies?”

  “Of course you can! I’ll wait here so you can have some time alone.”

  “No, come with me. Please.” Feeling a little numb, Calleigh followed her aunt. The thick perfume of the lilies wafted up from the wrapped bouquet in her hand, churning her stomach with its sweetness.

  A simple rose granite headstone marked her mother’s grave. She read the dates carved into the stone. Her mother had been dead almost a year. She glanced down at the date on her watch. In two days, it would be a year exactly. No wonder her aunt and uncle thought she had so much to deal with. If they only knew the truth.

  She knelt to lay the flowers at the base of the headstone and trailed her fingers over the carved grooves that spelled out Catherine. I miss you so much, Mom. She shook her head. Maybe a crappy life was her destiny after all.

  A small seed of anger took root. She wondered if Alrik had known this would be the outcome of her change. Where was he anyway? He promised he’d come back as soon as he could. Men were such unreliable creatures. Well, most of them.

  She stood up and brushed bits of leaf off her jeans. “I’m ready to go see Dad.”

  The stark medicinal tang of the nursing home ate away at Calleigh’s resolve that things were going to get better. The cheery colors and flowered-wallpaper did nothing to soften the reality of the halls they decorated.

  They signed in at the guest desk and she followed her aunt to the Autumn wing. Through the first open door she saw a woman sitting in a chair talking to herself, tearing a tissue to shreds. Through another, a man stared at a television playing daytime soaps while he petted a stuffed cat on his lap.

  Her heart ached. Was this what had become of her father?

  Moreen stopped in front of #1217. “I’ll go wait in the visitor’s room, so you can have some time alone with him. Take as long as you like, I’m in no hurry.”

  “Thanks, Aunt Moreen.”

  Her aunt squeezed her hand and turned to go but then hesitated. There was sadness in Moreen’s eyes when she looked at Calleigh. “Just remember him when he was well, love.”

  Calleigh furrowed her brow as she watched her aunt walk away. She hesitated a moment before going in. She had no idea what shape her father was in. Was she ready for this? Was there any way to be ready?

  She knocked softly, then opened the door. “Daddy?”

  A nurse was trying to give medication to an old man in a recliner. The TV was playing an Andy Griffith rerun. “You need to take this. Opie can wait.”

  “Fool woman, quit tryin’ to poison me,” the man rasped. He swung wildly at the small paper cup of pills in her hand.

  The nurse glanced up when Calleigh entered. “Maybe you can get him to take these. He’s been fighting me all morning.”

  She turned back to her patient. “Your daughter’s here. You want her to see you behaving like this?”

  Calleigh inhaled sharply, the smell of the place making her lightheaded. This man couldn’t possibly be her father. Her father was bright-eyed and kind. This man was thin and washed out. Black-rimmed glasses in need of a good cleaning obscured dull brown eyes.

  He peered around the nurse’s ample figure. “That’s not me daughter.”

  A quiet sigh of relief slipped from Calleigh’s lips. This was just some sort of mix-up. This man with the rough brogue might be a distant relative of hers but certainly not her father. She was about to ask the nurse where she might find her Eagan McCarthy when the old man spoke, tears in his eyes. “Catherine, you’re back! I missed ye so much, love.”

  At the sound of her mother’s name, Calleigh’s heart crumbled. This man was her father. “Daddy? Daddy, it’s me, Calleigh.”

  “Ye’ve got to help me, Catherine. This blame woman’s tryin’ to poison me. Did ye come to take me home?”

  He looked straight at her but Calleigh knew he wasn’t seeing her. How had her father turned into this paper shell of a human being?

  “Take me home, Catherine,” he pleaded.

  She held out her hand to the nurse. “Give me th
e pills, I’ll see he takes them.”

  “Good luck,” the woman mumbled on her way out.

  Calleigh pulled a chair beside her father and sat down. “Daddy, it’s me, Calleigh, your daughter. Remember?”

  For a moment, she thought she saw recognition in his faded brown eyes. Please remember me.

  “I don’t want peas again for dinner. No peas. I don’t like them.” He sat back in the chair, eyeing her suspiciously.

  She shook her head. “Okay, Daddy, no peas.”

  “No peas, no peas, no peas…” He whispered the words under his breath, rocking slightly as he spoke.

  The anger born at her mother’s graveside grew inside her, built up by fresh pain and new resentment. This wasn’t fair. Her father wasn’t supposed to end up like this.

  Tears stung her eyes as she filled his glass with water from a nearby pitcher and offered him the pills. “Here you go.”

  “What are those? I don’t want them.”

  “Vitamins,” she fibbed. “They’re good for you,” she added. Well, that wasn’t a complete lie, she supposed.

  “No. They’re poison, aren’t they?”

  “Catherine wants you to take them.” Lord help her, that was dirty pool.

  He nodded and took the pills, his gaze drifting back to the television screen. He laughed a little and she contented herself to just sit beside him while he watched the old black and white show. No one in Mayberry even got Alzheimer’s, did they? She patted her father’s blue-veined hand.

  He looked at her, furrowing his brow. “What’s your name?”

  “Calleigh.” She smiled, hoping for some recognition at last.

  He smiled, a brilliant mega-watt grin that shone like the noonday sun and for the first time, he looked like the man she remembered. “I have a daughter named Calleigh.”

  She nodded but said nothing, afraid to interrupt his thoughts.

  “She’s a beautiful lass, just like her ma and smart, too. She just turned two. Or three…” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. After a moment, his eyes went back to the TV.

  I’m right here, Daddy. Don’t you see me? Don’t you recognize me? She wanted to shout the words but instead she squeezed his hand gently. “And she loves you very much.”