by Amy Lyon
“Where are we going?” She pointed behind them at the house she’d parked her rental car at. “I thought you were taking me to my mother’s place.”
He motioned down the street. “Millie’s... Oh, that’s right. You’re the awful daughter who doesn’t visit.”
She bristled at the sting she felt at his words, but playfully swatted at him to keep the mood light. “Are you sure you’re a pastor?”
Deep laughter floated up from his throat. “You wouldn’t guess it, would you?” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s my house.”
She looked at the khaki-colored one-story with a red clay-tile roof and arched portico. She liked that this wasn’t a cookie-cutter neighborhood. There were two-story homes, large lots, small lots and plenty of palm trees.
Then something dawned on her.
“Wait. Are you the Matty my mom always talks about? Who weed-whips her lawn and takes her garbage to the street?”
“Only when the mowers do a shoddy job or I see that the trash isn’t by the road Thursday mornings when I leave for work.”
“My mother mentions you every time I talk to her, which, admittedly, isn’t that often, but you watch out for her.” She tapped his forearm with the back of her hand. “Thank you.”
He shrugged and pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants. “No big deal. That’s how people are around here.”
Andi huffed. “Well, you’re lucky. My condo could be burglarized and my neighbors wouldn’t bat an eye.”
“Bad neighborhood?”
“Naw.” Andi shook her head. “Just a bunch of workaholics in the city who don’t have time for each other.” She should know. She was one of them. But maybe there’d come a day when she’d settle down, have a family and live in a nice neighborhood like this.
She stole another look at him. “I figured you were a young kid by the way she talked about you. Matty this. Matty that. Like the paperboy or something.”
He clearly fought back a smile and Andi struggled not to stare, because Matty Cooke had dimples to die for. Whoa! Easy girl! She focused on the road in front of them and felt especially thankful for her sunglasses. She was pretty sure the way she’d looked at him—Pastor Cooke—was a sin in somebody’s book.
CHAPTER TWO
Matt had to work to concentrate on the conversations around him. His eyes landed repeatedly on the girl with wavy blond hair and big brown eyes who spent more time looking at her mother’s knick-knacks and photographs than she did talking to the other mourners. That was understandable. She didn’t know anyone and had to feel a little uncomfortable.
He could comfort her.
Matt silently reprimanded himself for thinking of Millie’s daughter that way and tried to re-engage in the conversation at hand. At post-funeral receptions like this, he was often bombarded with the difficult questions about life, death and eternity as survivors became introspective and considered their own salvation. The most common question today, though, was what would happen to Millie.
He was half the age of most of the people in this room, but many looked to him for guidance, and he felt it was his God-given mission to help them find what they needed. He didn’t have all the answers on the tip of his tongue, but when he looked to scripture, God never failed to provide him with the right words.
And he had a feeling he’d need them today.
His mother, Francine “Fancy” Cooke, slid in to stand next to him. “Any confirmation from Circles of Care?”
Matt nodded. His eyes went to Millie, but only for a second before they caught sight of Andi entering the living room like a slow-moving tornado from one of the back bedrooms. Her hands were on her hips and she scanned the room. Then her eyes locked on him and he could practically see the thoughts swirling in her mind.
“Does she know?” Fancy asked.
“She will now,” he said without taking his eyes off Andi. He patted his mother’s shoulder and crossed the room.
Andi threw her hands up and came inches from touching his chest. “Her bedroom is full of boxes,” she said in a loud whisper.
Lightning flashed in her eyes. He shook his head slightly and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“But it’s not his stuff,” she whispered. “It’s her stuff. Why is she packing? Is she selling the house or something?”
Matt knew how curious the ladies of the church could be. And some of the men, too. He also knew just how well many of them picked up conversations with their high-powered hearing aids and he didn’t want Andi to be the subject of gossip.
“Let’s talk outside,” he said, gently touching her elbow to lead her toward the front door.
Outside, she sat in the porch swing and Matt pulled a white, wicker chair around so he could sit and face her. The earthy depths of her eyes begged him for answers and he silently prayed he could fill her need.
He clasped his hands together. “I’m not sure how much you know about your mom and Dwight’s—”
“Nothing,” Andi blurted and leaned forward. “I know nothing about them.”
“Well,” he said and shifted in his seat. “Dwight really took care of your mom the last year or so. I helped out with little things here and there, but Dwight did everything. Cooking, cleaning, dressing her...”
“Dressing her?” Her eyes widened. “Is she sick? What’s wrong with her?”
Matt prayed again for the right words. He hadn’t thought this far ahead or considered what he would say in a conversation with Millie’s daughter. Honestly, from her clipped tone on the phone yesterday, he hadn’t expected her to show up for the funeral. And, clearly, she knew nothing about her mother’s condition.
Direct and to the point was his only option.
“She has dementia, Andi.”
Her eyes shifted from dark to stormy as the clouds rolled in.
“Dementia?”
The word came out like thunder and Matt was reminded of how much he dreaded being the bearer of bad news, a role that was becoming more prominent in his life with the lead pastor so often MIA.
Andi pushed out of the swing with such force that Matt had to reach forward to keep the wooden frame from knocking his knees.
“How long?”
His eyebrows lifted and he turned to look at her. Her hands were braced on the porch railing and her shoulders slumped forward. Support her. He rose to stand next to her.
“How long has she had dementia?” Or how long until the severe cognitive decline sets in and she can’t speak or walk?
“Yes.”
“Uh, ever since she started coming to Hope Presbyterian with Dwight—”
“Which has been...?”
Matt shoved his hands into his pockets. “Four years or so.”
Andrea gave a curt nod. “What else? What have the doctors said?”
Matt had to regroup. When she’d shot out of the porch swing he’d expected to comfort her and answer the inevitable question of why. But he wasn’t prepared for this peppering of logic-based questions or the stern set of her chin as she affixed her eyes on the few wispy clouds in the sky.
“They’re...well, they’re concerned, Andi. She’s gotten steadily worse over the last six months and—”
“Worse how?”
He sucked in a breath. “Like I said, Dwight took care of everything. My mom said he’d even started bathing her because she simply couldn’t remember to do it anymore.”
Andi flinched.
“Dwight stopped letting her go places alone.” He searched her face and wondered how much to tell her. Everything, he decided. She needed to know everything. “Thankfully, this is still a small town and most everyone knows each other. Dwight got a call right after Christmas from Charity down at the Super Mini Mart Convenience Store. Millie was outside yelling at the other customers because she was sure someone had stolen her car.”
She turned to face him. “And...”
“She’d walked there. Two-and-a-half miles.”
Andrea’s f
ace remained stoic, but Matt caught the slight ripple in her throat as she swallowed hard and the shaky rise and fall of her chest. He felt an urge to reach out and touch the vein at the base of her neck that pulsed rapidly with the beat of her heart.
Instead, he put his hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t move away, he gave a light squeeze. “She talks about you all the time, Andrea. She remembers so much.”
She shot him a look. “Is it that bad? That she might forget me?”
The weight of her pain settled on his chest. He motioned back to the porch swing and she followed his lead. She slipped into the bench seat next to him and lifted her feet slightly off the floorboards, crossing her ankles, so he could be in charge of swinging.
“With Dwight gone, she can’t stay in this house alone.” He looked out over the front yard and waited for a response. Andi was painfully quiet. “A Realtor came out yesterday and members of our Helping Hands grief support team have already started packing—”
“But it’s only been three days since Dwight...”
“I know.” He put his hand on her knee as they gently rocked. “Time’s not on our side.”
She drew her hands together and brought her thumbs to her mouth, and when she did, the bracelets she wore jingled down her right forearm, revealing scripted words on her wrist. Mente... Matt tilted his head to follow the letters around her arm, but she slapped her hands onto her thighs before he could read the full tattoo.
“So, what’s next?” she asked.
Matt blinked several times and sat back. She wanted to be all business, it seemed. He wondered if that act worked with other people or if they saw right through her like he did.
“Well, I’ve been talking to the people down at Circles of Care—”
“Circles of Care. What’s that?”
“A memory care center Dwight looked into. He was a planner and knew he wouldn’t be able to take care of her forever, especially when...”
Andi probed him with her eyes.
“The doctor said the dementia is progressing more rapidly than he’d expected.”
“You said that already.” She planted her feet on the floorboards and leaned forward, driving her elbows into her knees. “So what did these Circles of Care people say?”
“They have an opening. We’re taking Millie—”
“Who’s we?”
Man, she had a problem with interrupting. “My mom and I are taking Millie for a walk-through tomorrow,” he said with a sternness he hadn’t intended.
Andi sat back and looked at him. “Can I come?”
His heart softened. “Of course.” He reached over and squeezed her hand.
* * *
A stream of visitors exited the house and all Andi saw was a blur of faces, most dripping with pity. At least now she understood why some of those looks were directed at her. This was less about the loss of Dwight and more about Millie and the fact Andi had been kept in the dark about her condition.
Dementia.
She closed her eyes and swallowed hard, the word burning like acid in her throat.
Admittedly, she’d kept herself in the dark by only engaging in surface conversation with her mother whenever they spoke on the phone, but she was still angry and had every right to be, as far as she was concerned. Millie left her in Minnesota four years ago without so much as a warning. Sure, Andi was in her mid-20s and self-sufficient, but how many times could a girl be abandoned before she started to take it a little personally?
She crossed her arms over her chest. She’d managed to build a pretty successful life for herself despite everything and basically made an art form out of being independent. If you could do everything on your own, she’d realized, somehow it hurt a little less when people dropped off your radar.
Because they always dropped off your radar. Friends. Co-workers. Parents...
She remained on the swing, legs curled up under her, as Matt played the gracious host. He helped the older ladies down the porch steps to the sidewalk and shook hands with the gentlemen. Back on the porch, he stopped in front of her and touched her hand.
“Early birds,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Our seniors have to get home well before dusk.”
She offered him a weak smile, which was the least she could do after he’d answered all of her questions with more patience than she deserved. She checked the time on her phone. Almost five o’clock. The day had whizzed away from her and now she felt like she was wrapped tight in the middle of a time warp. Forget the hours. Where had all the years gone and how could she not have seen the warning signs of her mother’s dementia? She licked her lips and fought the urge to spit out the bitter taste of the word that now ran rampant through her mind.
She pulled at the corners of her eyes just as her mother appeared in the doorway with the woman from the church by her side.
Andi stood. “You must be Fancy.” She extended her hand to Matt’s mother.
Millie stepped forward and enveloped her daughter in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here, honey.”
Andi’s eyes filled instantly and her gaze shot to the porch roof to keep the tears from falling. She hugged her mother gently, like you might hug a small child, and felt the boniness of her back and the overall frailty of the woman who, at one time, was her source of strength. Her rock.
Millie slowly pulled away and yawned.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and into some comfy clothes,” Fancy said, turning her mother toward the door.
Andi looked to Matt. “What should I do? I feel like I should be the one taking care of her.”
Matt shook his head. “Let my mom do it. They’ve been friends since Millie came here and there’s a comfort level there—”
“That she doesn’t have with me,” Andi supplied and followed him inside. “So, do I say something to her? Tell her that I know?”
Matt pulled a garbage bag from under the sink and went to work cleaning up the dining room. “I wouldn’t. She gets upset when it’s brought up.”
Andi shook macaroni salad off a serving spoon and gathered up the utensils. “Maybe I should stay here tonight.”
Matt cocked his head. “Weren’t you planning to?”
“No. I got a room at Casa Blanca Resort and Spa.”
His eyebrows raised. “Casa Blanca, eh?”
She looked down at her boots. “Don’t judge. It’s been four years since I’ve seen her. I didn’t know how this would go.”
“Not judging.” He stacked disposable cups and tossed them in the garbage bag. “Just thinking Casa Blanca is a pretty spendy place there, moneybags.”
She snorted at his playfulness. “They had a last-minute cancellation so I got a deal, thank you very much.”
He winked and amusement flickered in his eyes. She was the first to look away, but only because the sound of her mother’s laughter from the back of the house caught her attention.
“She seems happy enough, despite everything.” Andi came around the table and tossed a handful of paper plates into the bag Matt held open. “Doesn’t she seem happy to you?”
“I don’t think Dwight’s passing has hit her.” He didn’t look up as he continued to fill the bag. “And there is some trouble connecting with reality for people with dementia.”
She flinched. He didn’t try to sugarcoat the situation and she appreciated that. The truth, however, was a jagged pill to swallow. She brought the serving bowls and spoons to the sink, which she filled with soapy water.
“I should have known,” she finally said, but Matt clearly didn’t hear her over the sound of the filling sink. She shut off the water and rested her hands on her hips. “I should have known, Matt. I’m sure there were signs, something I could have picked up on.”
He set down the garbage bag and came across the room to stand in front of her. She practically fell into him and he encircled her in his arms.
“You’re not alone in this,” he whispered into her hair. “I’ll be here, walking with you.”
&n
bsp; Her stomach quivered as his hug grew tighter. She squeezed back, knowing full well she could handle all of this on her own. History had proven she was capable of standing tall and thriving in the most difficult situations. But she didn’t have to, not today. And despite the fact she’d only met Matt a few hours ago, he knew Millie and this situation better than she did right now. And for that reason alone, she couldn’t think of a better person to have at her side.
Never mind that her feet seemed to drift along on a cloud when she was wrapped in his arms.
CHAPTER THREE
Andi watched the sunrise from the lush comfort of the balcony of her Casa Blanca Resort and Spa room. The burnt orange was so spectacular that the color almost smoothed the raw feelings of guilt that had only grown inside her overnight.
The third-floor balcony faced Barefoot Bay, an enchanting inlet of turquoise waters that merged with the Gulf. Even at this early hour, there was a welcome hustle among the other guests below. It was a much-needed distraction. Walkers and joggers queued along a virtual pedestrian super highway near the water’s edge.
Andi toyed with the idea of living on an island like Mimosa Key. What would life be like lived steps away from the ocean, forever feeling the warm heat of Florida on her skin?
She closed her eyes. And what would it be like to live in the same small town as Matthew Cooke? He’d walked her to her car last night and gifted her with another one of those magical hugs. The comfort of his nearness went with her to the resort and lingered as she drifted off to sleep.
She woke in a fresh blanket of guilt when she thought about her mother. Her mother was probably just rising, maybe being dressed by Fancy, before their hair appointments today at Beachside Beauty. Shame rolled over her. Why hadn’t she visited her mother before this? And not just to be a good daughter and meet Dwight, but also to take a break from working the rigid schedule she’d set for herself. All work and no play really had dulled her.
The work-versus-family conundrum. Matt’s words echoed in her mind and she shook them off like sand from her feet. Despite his charm, he had no insight into her life. Except, of course, the little bits Millie had shared with him. But he didn’t know why she worked as hard as she did or why it felt so important for her to maintain control over that aspect of her life.