“Amen.” Janie smiled at him. “Thanks for opening my eyes to what my father may have gone through during the war. I have a strong sense that he would appreciate you sharing your perspective with me.”
Chapter 7
CAROLINE
“Don’t you worry about a thing,” the caregiver Joan told Caroline, practically shoving her out the front door Tuesday afternoon. “I know what I’m doing.”
“But I didn’t show you where the phone numbers are posted,” Caroline protested.
“I’ll bet they’re right by the phone,” Joan said a bit smugly.
“Well, yes. But my mom doesn’t really know you yet.”
“Does she know anyone?” Joan countered.
Caroline sighed. “No, I suppose not. Especially not recently.”
“Really, everything will be just fine,” Joan assured her. “I’ve substituted for Darlene several times. Some of our patients can’t even tell us apart.”
Caroline wanted to point out that her mom sometimes couldn’t tell her own daughter apart from Darlene but knew it was pointless.
“You just take that big dog of yours for a nice long beach walk, dear. Just like you would have done if Darlene wasn’t sick.” Joan waved and closed the door.
“Okay.” Caroline looked down at Chuck. His tail whipped happily back and forth. “I guess we’re officially kicked out. It’s just you and me, boy.” She opened up the back of her mini SUV, and Chuck hopped in as if they did this sort of thing every day. Caroline wished that were the case, but the truth was she’d only been able to take Chuck to the beach once since she’d adopted him about a month ago. Usually she spent her time off from caring for her mother by doing errands, shopping for groceries, attending her support group, or occasionally grabbing coffee with the other Lindas.
Caroline worried as she drove toward the beach. It was always so hard to shake off her responsibilities, like she felt everything would fall apart without her. Darlene was the only one who seemed able to hold it together in Caroline’s absence. But, like Darlene had told Caroline on the phone, it would be good for her mom to meet a new caregiver. “Joan is still relatively new to the agency,” Darlene had explained in a hoarse voice. “So she might be more available for other times, too.”
To reassure herself, Caroline mentally went over her safety checklist. The stove and the microwave were both unplugged. All chemical cleaners and aerosol cans were safely locked away. All knives, sharp objects, and breakables were well out of her mother’s reach. She was much shorter than Caroline, so using the high shelves for glassware was ideal. Not that her mother wandered into the kitchen much these days, but Caroline could never tell what to expect.
That was the hardest thing about Alzheimer’s: You could never tell. Just when Caroline thought she’d covered all her bases, her mother would pull a new trick out of her crazy bag, like the time she went out into the garage and attempted to start the lawn mower. Why she thought she needed to mow the lawn in the middle of the night was a mystery, albeit no more mysterious than the time she thought she needed to take a boat ride in the buff. Then there was the time she sneaked into Caroline’s room and attempted to cut her daughter’s hair with a pair of manicure scissors.
Today, Caroline’s bedroom door, garage door, and back door were all securely dead-bolted with two-way locks, and the master key was safely zipped in Caroline’s purse. The front door had been trickier to secure. According to Beverly, one exit had to remain unlocked in case of an emergency. Caroline understood this, but she hoped that Joan did too.
“Of course she does,” Caroline told herself as she turned down the road to the jetty. “She’s a certified caregiver.” Still, Caroline would’ve felt less concerned if Darlene, instead of this Joan person, were with her mother.
“You’ve got to quit worrying about her so much,” Mitch had told Caroline just yesterday. “It’s not doing either of you any good. You’re always on edge, and your mother can probably sense this. You need to relax.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” she’d retorted a bit defensively. Mitch had been dropping some not-so-subtle hints all day, and she had felt unexplainably weary just then. “You’re not the one trapped into taking care of her 24/7.”
“You don’t have to be trapped,” he reminded her. “You said yourself that the social worker has recommended that you put her in a home.”
At that point Caroline decided to change the subject. What was the point of arguing about it with Mitch when Caroline could argue about it all by herself? Besides, it had been sweet of Mitch to make the effort to visit her despite knowing that Caroline’s caregivers would be booked because of the holiday and she’d be stuck with her mom for the entire day.
She did her best to make it a good visit for him, going to the trouble of setting up a small barbecue picnic for them in the recently renovated backyard. This was no small feat, considering all the running back and forth to attend to her mother’s increasing demands. By the end of the day Caroline was exhausted, and she fretted over the fact that Mitch left earlier than planned. He said he needed to get ready for his Tokyo trip, which was true, but she also suspected he was getting a bit fed up with their relationship. Who could blame him?
Caroline parked the car in the nearly empty lot and went around to let Chuck out. “It’s just you and me, boy.” She stroked his silky head as she clipped on his leash. “For all I know, you may end up being the only guy in my life.” His tail wagged eagerly, as if this was perfectly fine with him. Really, he was a good companion. Always happy to see her. Never complained. Always appreciative. Enthusiastic, understanding, undemanding. And he never told her how to live her life. In fact he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. In Chuck’s case silence was golden. Like a golden retriever.
Caroline hadn’t told anyone that Chuck had been sneaking into her bed at nights, or that she didn’t mind. Something about the feel of that soft, warm fur and the sound of his canine snuffs and grunts … well, it was better than being alone!
She let him off the leash once they were out on the beach. Now was the time to run with carefree abandon, to chase the tennis ball she’d stuck in her pocket, to experience the thrill of the ocean, and to simply be free.
It seemed incredible to think of how many years she had taken her freedom for granted. Worse than not appreciating her independence, she had, at times, despised it. She spent hours, days, maybe even years lamenting the absence of a significant someone in her life. She had grieved over the children she would never mother. She had loathed the emptiness of living simply for herself, tending to her own necessities, obsessing over her own concerns, and basically being self-absorbed.
She’d tried to be a good friend to those around her, but so often her friendships were temporary. Naturally she’d had romantic relationships along the way, but never anything lasting. The men she attracted were usually takers, shallow guys who cared more about their needs than hers. That was typical of Hollywood culture, she supposed. All in all, she’d experienced an unfulfilled life down in Southern California. Independence, yes. Freedom, of course. But it had been very lonely.
Now she had someone who not only needed her but could not survive for one day without her help. Caroline was suffocating. She gave the tennis ball a hard throw and looked out to the ocean, where several surfers were making a go of it. The wave action looked rough, and she didn’t envy them their youth, vigor, and vitality. She could accept that those days were long gone for her, and, really, she wouldn’t turn back the clock. Not even if she could. In fact, by caring for her elderly mother, Caroline was finally coming to grips with aging.
Her hair beneath her highlights was graying, and wrinkles were inevitable. After seeing what happened to her good friend Shelby down in LA, Caroline had sworn off Botox for good. Now more than ever before, Caroline was starting to accept that, in her mid-fifties, things were changing, sh
ifting, dropping, drooping, and sagging. But those were external things. The things that really mattered were interior things, for the most part unseen. According to her belief they were lasting things. She had spent most of her life focused on shallow priorities. For the remainder of her life she hoped to focus on what really mattered.
Right now all that mattered to her was being out here on the beach with Chuck, enjoying the ocean air, the sound of the thrashing waves, the clouds rolling across the horizon. Be in the moment, she reminded herself. Live life fully. Relish every day you have. Be thankful!
She checked her watch to make sure she hadn’t walked too far. Her plan had been to allow forty-five minutes to walk one way before she turned back, but a bit more than that had gone by already. Her two-hour respite time always passed quickly, and she wanted to stop by McDonald’s on her way home. Lately her mom’s eating habits had been worse than ever. This morning Caroline couldn’t even get her to sample what had once been her favorite protein drink. It was probably a long shot, but she hoped the old lure of a cheeseburger, fries, and vanilla shake would entice her mom to eat something.
On her way to McDonald’s, Caroline heard sirens and pulled over to let a fire engine and a couple of emergency vehicles pass her. Silly as it seemed, her instinct was to dash home to check on her mom. Maybe mothers of infants felt the same while away from home. Instead Caroline pulled into the drive-through and waited to place her order. After she got the bag, she thought the aroma of those crispy fries would be just the thing to tempt her mom to eat. In fact they smelled so good that Caroline’s stomach growled, and she considered sneaking a few herself.
When she turned down her street, her stomach forgot all about hunger. There in front of her mom’s house were two fire engines, an ambulance, and a police car.
Caroline pulled over on the other side of the street, leaped out of the car, and ran to where firemen were spraying water onto the roof of the burning house. Caroline looked at the bystanders, searching for her mom but spotting only Joan. “Where is my mom?” Caroline screamed.
“Oh, Caroline!” Joan’s face was white as she pointed to the house. “She’s still in there.”
Caroline started to run for the house but was blocked by a fireman in fire-resistant gear. “No, ma’am, you can’t go in there.” He held her firmly, walking her back to the sidewalk.
“But my mom!” she screamed into his face. “She’s in—”
“They’ll get her out,” he told her. “They know what they’re doing.”
Caroline broke into tears. “Oh, Mom,” she sobbed. “Please be okay.”
After what felt like hours but was probably just minutes, two firemen emerged from the front door. One of them was carrying what looked like an oversized rag doll in his arms. The fireman continued to hold Caroline back as two paramedics raced over to tend to her mother.
“You need to stay out of their way, ma’am,” the fireman said. “Let the professionals take care of her.”
Caroline couldn’t see her mom’s face as they loaded her onto a gurney. But she did see one of the medics with an oxygen mask, which had to mean her mom was still alive. The fireman walked Caroline over to another medic, where she was told they were transporting her mom to the hospital.
“I’ll follow in my car,” she told them, and before long she was trailing the ambulance with its siren going and lights flashing. “Please let her be okay,” she prayed as she drove. “Please help her, God. She is so helpless. Please help her.”
Caroline parked near the emergency entrance as the medics rolled her mother’s gurney into the hospital. They went directly into the ER, and Caroline went to the desk to give the receptionist her mother’s information. Fortunately her mom was already in the computer system there, and the process didn’t take too long.
“Can I go see her?” Caroline asked.
“Let me check.” The receptionist picked up a phone, asked some questions, and then hung up. “I’m sorry,” she told Caroline. “Until she is stabilized, there can be no visitors.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
The receptionist’s expression was impossible to read. “They will do everything they can for your mother. Please make yourself comfortable over there. I will let you know as soon as I hear anything.” She pointed to the waiting area.
Caroline thanked her and, feeling like she was in a stupor, went over and sat down. It was the same place where Caroline had first waited with the other Lindas on the night of their class reunion after Cathy Gardener collapsed, and where they’d held their vigil for Paul following his heart attack—it felt eerily familiar. Fumbling through her purse, Caroline pulled out her phone and called Janie and quickly explained the situation.
“I’m on my way,” Janie told her. “And I’ll let the others know too.”
“Thanks,” Caroline mumbled. She closed her phone and just sat there wondering. What had happened? How on earth had a fire started? And where was that caregiver—Joan—while this was taking place? Furthermore, where was she now?
It wasn’t long before Janie joined Caroline in the waiting area. So relieved to see a familiar face, Caroline hugged her tightly. “Thanks for coming.”
“How is she?” Janie asked as they sat down.
Caroline shook her head. “No news yet.”
“How did it happen?”
Caroline frowned. “I don’t really know.”
Janie looked confused. “Weren’t you there?”
Caroline explained about Joan. “I was worried about going. I’ve never had that caregiver before.”
“What did Joan tell you?”
“Nothing, not really.”
“Not even how the fire started?”
“We didn’t have time to talk.”
“Where is Joan now?” Janie glanced around the waiting area.
Caroline shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“That’s odd.” Janie’s brow creased. “Maybe we should call Joan’s supervisor and see what she has to say about this. It seems the caregiver on duty should have some responsibility to explain what happened.”
“Yes. That’s a good idea. I’ll call the agency.”
“Surely Joan was involved in filling out some kind of a report with the emergency crews.”
Caroline waited as the phone rang. When a woman answered, Caroline explained the situation, then waited as she was transferred to the head of the agency. Just as someone said hello, a policeman came into the waiting area and called out Caroline’s name. “Here,” Caroline handed the phone to Janie. “Can you handle this for me?” Janie nodded with confidence and Caroline stood to greet the policeman.
“I’m Detective Alberts,” he said as he shook her hand. “Very sorry to hear about your mother.” He glanced toward the ER desk. “How is she doing?”
“I don’t know.” Caroline felt a lump in her throat.
He nodded. “I am a CFI, and I have some questions about the fire.”
“A CFI?”
“Certified Fire Investigator.” He nodded to some chairs by the door, indicating that they should sit.
“I thought you were a policeman.” Caroline said as she followed him to the chairs and sat down.
“Since Clifden is a small town, some of us wear more than one hat.” He opened a black notebook. “I understand you weren’t present during the fire. Correct?”
“That’s right. I had a caregiver watching my mother.”
“Joan Wilson?”
“Yes. It was the first time she’s stayed with my mom, so I was a little uneasy.”
“Uneasy?” He peered at her.
“Well, because my mom didn’t really know her.” Caroline held up her hands. “My mom has Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t really know anyone.”
“And you are the primary caregiver for your mot
her?”
“Yes.”
“That must be exhausting for you.” He smiled in a sympathetic way.
She nodded. “Yes. It can be pretty stressful.”
“Have you been doing it for long?”
“Since August.”
“Has she been difficult to care for?”
Caroline sighed. “Well, yes. She’s in an advanced stage. She can be very difficult.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t move her to a nursing home.”
“I’ve considered it.”
“Of course, that can be very expensive.” He seemed to be studying her closely.
“Yes.”
“I had an elderly uncle with dementia,” the detective continued in a rambling sort of way. “He was quite well-off, owned several houses, but he went into a care facility, and after several years there was nothing left of his estate.” Caroline felt confused. Why was he telling her this story? “Anyway, do you know what caused the fire?”
“I’ve been wracking my brain,” she admitted. “I keep the stove and microwave unplugged. There are no matches or candles or anything in the house. Even the lighter I use for the barbecue is kept safely locked in my room.”
“I noticed there were a number of keyed locks on the doors.” Again he peered curiously at her.
“That’s because my mom wanders. If a door’s not locked she will go right through it. She has no sense of boundaries. For safety reasons, I didn’t have a lock like that installed on the front door. The social worker advised against it”—Caroline swallowed hard—”in case of an emergency.”
“Like a fire?”
She nodded.
“Are you a smoker, Ms. McCann?”
Caroline blinked. “No. Not at all.”
“Your mother?”
“No.” Caroline frowned. “I mean she used to be. But that was ages ago.”
“So those were not your cigarettes?”
“Cigarettes?” She stared at him. “What cigarettes?”
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