by Kat Martin
One of the nurses was waiting, a slender young woman in her late twenties with tawny brown hair, light green eyes, and a pretty smile. She was new, Lottie thought, or maybe she just didn't remember her.
“Good morning...” Lottie read the name on the woman's badge. “Sylvia."
“Good morning, Mrs. Sparks. How are you feeling today?”
Lottie mentioned her arthritis but both of them knew that wasn't what the nurse was asking about. The young woman took her blood pressure then led her into one of the examining rooms. Sylvia helped her get seated in a gray vinyl, metal-framed chair and quietly closed the door.
Fighting a surge of pity, Syl turned away from the aging woman she recognized as living in the house next door to her apartment. She had met her neighbor, Lottie Sparks and her grandson, Teddy, at church the morning she had gone with Doris. She hadn't expected to see the elderly woman the following week in the doctor's office, being treated for a rapidly progressing form of Alzheimer's disease.
Sylvia glanced toward the door of the examining room. Alzheimer's was eventually fatal and Lottie's disease was moving fairly fast. Her medical records listed a cousin in New Jersey as next of kin. If the cousin wouldn't take Lottie's grandson, she hoped there was someone else who would. If not, he would go into the foster care system. She hated to think what sort of place he might wind up in.
Syl walked over to the desk in the reception area and set down a couple of files. Across the way, she spotted her landlady, Doris Culver, sitting in one of the vinyl chairs and reading a copy of Better Homes and Gardens. Doris had probably driven Lottie to her appointment. Sylvia walked over to say hello.
“Good morning, Doris. Are you waiting for Mrs. Sparks?”
“Why, yes, I am.”
“She's in with Dr. Davis but she shouldn't be too much longer."
Sylvia noticed the page lying open in Doris's lap, a photo of a cheerful, airy home filled with lush, green plants.
“I know it's none of my business,” Doris said, “but is Lottie all right? When I drove her here two weeks ago, I thought she was coming in for a simple checkup."
“I wish I could tell you but I can't divulge patient information. I'd get fired if I did. Why don't you ask her what's going on? She might be glad to have someone to talk to about it.”
“All right, I will.” Doris smiled. “In the meantime, I hope you're getting settled in.”
“I'm completely unpacked. I'm looking forward to buying some plants and things to make the apartment feel more homey.”
“That's a good idea. I'm very good with plants.”
“I think they make all the difference.”
Doris's look turned thoughtful. “I hope Floyd doesn't make too much noise out in his shop.”
The sawing and hammering could be kind of a nuisance at times but Mr. Culver never worked past nine in the evening and the apartment actually sat over the garage, not the shop, so it wasn't really so bad.
“I'm getting to where I hardly notice,” Syl said.
“That's good to hear.”
“I'll check on Mrs. Sparks.” Syl turned and walked away, hoping Lottie Sparks would confide in her friend. Going through Alzheimer's was difficult enough without trying to do it alone. She was certain Lottie wouldn't mention the problem to her grandson, at least not until she had to, and even then, it would be hard for him to understand.
Syl thought about the darling little boy who lived in the house next door. She had always wanted children. She and Joe had planned to have at least three or four of them.
Then the week before their wedding, she had gone in to see her family physician for a gynecological exam. She had been having some problems with her periods and wasn't sure of the cause. Testing had revealed cervical cancer, fairly well progressed. Treatment would require a complete hysterectomy, followed by chemotherapy.
Syl had been devastated. She was engaged to a man who wanted a family more than anything in the world. And there was no guarantee that the chemo would work.
Still, she knew without a doubt that if she told Joe what was happening, he would say it didn’t matter. He would say that he loved her and he wanted to marry her anyway.
But depriving Joe Dixon of the family he so desperately wanted simply would not have been fair. And making a young man with a bright future deal with the possibility of losing his wife to cancer was simply unthinkable.
Instead, Syl had ended her engagement and left for Chicago. She had refused to return Joe's calls, refused to see him when he followed her to the city. She had lied to him, told him she had never really loved him and that they were both better off going their separate ways.
A broken heart, she believed, was better than a broken future.
In the years after her recovery, she had tried to forget the man she had loved so much, tried to forget the pain she felt whenever she heard his name. Over the years, she had worked to make a new life for herself and for the most part, she had succeeded.
But a day rarely went by that she didn't think of Joe, didn't remember the lies she had told him, the heartbreak she had caused, and that she had ruined his life.
Teddy Sparks arrived at Murdock's Repair Shop about fifteen minutes early, as he had every day since he started. Neither Joe nor Bumper were in the waiting room when he got there. Teddy wandered into the shop and saw a pair of long legs in faded jeans sticking out from beneath a jacked-up car, and strolled over.
“Hi, Joe.”
Joe wheeled himself out from beneath the body of the car. “Hey, kid.” He checked his wristwatch, “You're early again today. I appreciate a man with enthusiasm.”
Teddy grinned. He liked when Joe talked that way. Liked that Joe treated him like a grown-up. “Whatcha want me to do?”
Joe wiped his hands on a grease rag. “Come on. You can sweep up the waiting room.”
As Joe rested a hand on his shoulder and began to guide him toward the waiting room, Teddy looked wistfully behind him at all the cool machinery. He'd been hoping that today might be the day he'd get to do some work in the shop, maybe use a grease gun or something. Instead, Joe handed him the same ol' broom and dustpan he had used every afternoon and pointed down at the floor.
“Let me know when you're done and I'll find something else for you to do.”
Teddy nodded, then brightened. The day wasn't over. Maybe he'd get to use the grease gun yet. “Okay, Joe.”
“Take your time. You've been doing a good job so far. I don't want to see any dirt.”
Teddy was going to make sure there wasn't any to see. He liked doing a good job, liked it when someone said he had. Joe Dixon had taken a chance on him and Teddy didn't want him to regret it.
The broom felt clumsy in his hands. He fought to get a grip on the handle and set to work sweeping the floor. Joe came in a little later and moved the sofa so he could sweep underneath, then shoved it back into place.
“You can dust when you're finished,” Joe said. “You remember where the dust cloth and furniture polish are?”
He nodded, pointed toward a cabinet at the far end of the room. “Up in that cupboard.”
No grease gun. At least not today but Teddy remained optimistic. He had only been working at the shop for a week but he really liked it. Liked the noise and the smells and the laughter. It seemed like there was always something that made Joe and Bumper laugh.
And he liked working for a man who knew all about cars, the way Joe Dixon did.
The trip home from the doctor's office didn't take long. Doris pulled up in front of Lottie's house and turned off the engine. All the way home, she had been trying to work up the nerve to ask Lottie what was wrong.
“Thank you, Doris. I appreciate your taking me to ...” The words trailed off and Lottie's silver eyebrows drew together in confusion.
“The doctor's office,” Doris gently reminded her. “We went to see Dr. Davis.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She reached for the handle of the door.
“Lottie...”
/>
“Yes, dear?”
“What's wrong? Won’t you please confide in me?”
Lottie sat back in the seat and for an instant, her face seemed to crumple. She let out a tired, resigned sigh. “I forget things, dear. The doctor says I have ... Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh, Lottie.”
“It isn’t that uncommon as people get older. Unfortunately, I have the sort that hits folks at a younger age and progresses fairly quickly.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yes, well, we don't get to choose our diseases. I hope you won't say anything, Doris. Teddy's too young to really understand and I wouldn't like to be the center of gossip."
“You know me better than that. I won't say a word."
“Thank you, dear.” She cracked open the door and climbed out. For a moment, Lottie stood on the sidewalk looking at her front door. Then she turned back to Doris. “Where did you say we went?”
“To the doctor’s office.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right. Thank you, Doris.”
“You’re welcome, Lottie. Let me know if you need another ride.”
Lottie just nodded, turned, and wandered off toward the house.
4
The late summer grew hot and the days passed slowly. The ceiling fan in the bedroom of Syl’s small apartment did little to cool the humid air. The window air conditioner worked, but it was old and the apartment never really cooled down. Syl didn’t mind. She preferred the warmth of summer to the long, cold, snowy days of winter, except, of course, for Christmas.
Syl loved the holidays when the streets overflowed with shoppers searching for just the right gift, when the lampposts were decorated with wreaths and holly, and tiny multicolored Christmas lights hung in store windows and everyone seemed to have a smile.
Brenner’s Bakery was a favorite place to visit that time of year. The shop overflowed with Christmas treats decorated in bright red and green, and the rich, yeasty aromas of baked goods filled the air. Though Christmas was still months away, Syl found herself looking forward to the first time she had been home for Christmas in years.
In the meantime, she was enjoying her job, the lazy weekends fixing up her apartment, and seeing old friends. She had lunch with Mary Webster at least once a week. But now with a husband and two beautiful children, Mary had less time to spend with her friend.
Syl and Doris were developing a friendship. Doris was about as old as Syl’s mother would have been and Syl was grateful for the older woman’s guidance. They talked about Lottie and poor little Teddy and what was to become of him, and sometimes they talked about when Syl was a girl in Dreyerville.
“I remember you coming into the bakery,” Doris said as they sat at the small, round table in Sylvia’s kitchen drinking a glass of iced tea. “Your hair was lighter back then, almost blond, and you had freckles.”
“I still do,” Syl said with a laugh. “Even more than I had before.”
“Well, they look good on you. You’re even prettier than you were when you were engaged to Joe.”
A knot squeezed in Syl’s stomach.
“I never understood what happened between the two of you,” Doris continued. “You both seemed so much in love. The whole town used to talk about what a fairy-tale couple you were.”
Syl’s fingers tightened around the icy glass. “Sometimes things happen.”
“Yes, I suppose they do. Look what happened to Joe after you left.”
Syl stared into her drink, watched a cube of ice bobbing in the dark liquid. “I didn’t know he went to prison until a year or so later. Mary knew I’d be upset. She told me he got into a bar fight down at that roadhouse near the train tracks and a man got killed.”
Doris nodded. “Al’s Place. Way I heard it, some fella made a remark about you and Joe got mad. Joe had been drinking ... started drinking real hard after you left town. He and the guy got into it pretty good. Joe punched him and when the guy fell, he hit his head on the brass foot rail under the bar. Killed him right on the spot.”
Syl’s insides twisted. “I never knew the whole story. I didn’t... didn’t know Joe got into that fight because of me.” She swallowed, feeling a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach. “I knew he went to prison and that eventually he got out.”
“That’s right. Involuntary manslaughter. He was sentenced to five years. Got out in three for good behavior and came back to Dreyerville about four years ago. He’s half owner over at Murdock’s garage.”
“That’s good. I’m glad he’s doing well. I guess ... I guess he never got married. That’s what Mary said.”
“For a while, he got real serious with Diane Ellison. She’s a kindergarten teacher over at Dreyerville Elementary. Looked like they were going to get married but it didn’t work out.” She flicked Syl a glance. “Funny ... I guess it hasn’t worked out for either one of you.”
On Friday after work, Syl and Doris went grocery shopping at King’s Supermarket. As they walked down the aisle in front of the milk counter, sharing the same basket for the few items each of them needed, Syl found herself thinking of the conversation they’d had about Joe and wondering if he knew she had come back to town. Her stomach knotted at the thought of what his response would be if he did.
She pushed the cart down the aisle while Doris went off to collect a pound of butter and a loaf of bread. The store needed remodeling. The aisles were too narrow and the manager kept it far too cold to suit Syl. Still, the selection was good and the meat and vegetables always fresh.
They were just passing the mayonnaise and pickle aisle when their cart collided with one coming around the corner from the opposite direction. Syl looked up to see the man who hovered in her thoughts. He was pushing a cart, his big hands wrapped around the handle.
Joe didn’t seem to notice Doris at all, just stared straight at Syl. She could feel the blood drain from her face, which must have turned the same color as the jar of mayonnaise she held in her hand. When both of them said nothing, just kept staring at each other, Doris said something about needing a head of lettuce for Floyd's supper and quietly slipped away.
Syl stood frozen. She had known she would run into Joe sooner or later. Still, it was a shock to find him standing right in front of her, his jaw set and his thick black eyebrows pulled together in a frown. A smile that really wasn't edged the corners of his mouth.
“Afternoon, Syl. I heard you were back in town.”
She swallowed. “Hello ... Joe.”
“Kind of surprised to hear you'd come back; I didn't think you were interested in living in a smalltime, one-horse town like Dreyerville.”
Syl fought not to wince. It was exactly what she had said, word for word; one of the many lies she had told. She wanted to live in Chicago, she had said, where she could experience new and exciting things.
“I guess I found out life in the city isn't all it's cracked up to be.”
The un-smile stayed on his face. With his hard jaw and brilliant blue eyes, how could she have forgotten how handsome he was? But then, deep down, she hadn't. She hadn't forgotten a single thing about Joe.
“You’re a nurse now, I hear, working over at old Doc Davis’s office.”
“I work for his son, Harry.” She tried for a smile but failed. Inside her chest, her heart beat a little too fast. “Doris says you’re part owner of Murdock’s auto shop. That’s great, Joe.”
Joe said nothing. She noticed his hands still curled around the handle of the cart.
“Why’d you come back, Syl?” he asked softly. “Why didn’t you stay in Chicago?”
She found a bit of courage and stiffened her spine. “Dreyerville is my home, Joe. It always has been. When Aunt Bessie died, I realized this was where I wanted to be.”
“I heard about your aunt. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
His gaze ran over her but there was only insolence in his expression, none of the softness he used to reserve just for her. “You should have stayed in the city, Syl.”
“I have the same right to be here as you do, Joe.”
He made no reply but neither did he move out of her way. Another cart rolled up behind him. Joe shoved his cart a little to the right so the gray-haired man could pass but he still blocked Syl’s way. “You never got married?”
“No.”
“I figured you’d marry one of those rich, city boys.”
“I didn’t go there for that.”
“No?” His mouth turned hard. “Maybe someday you’ll tell me the reason you did go. What you thought you’d find in Chicago that you couldn’t find right here with me.” He started pushing his basket, angling it so it rolled past hers without touching it. “See ya around, Syl.”
He didn’t look at her again, just kept pushing the cart straight ahead. He stopped and tossed in a jar of pickles, then rounded the end of the aisle and disappeared out of sight.
As Doris walked back toward the cart, Syl released the breath she had been holding but regret remained tight in her chest.
Doris dropped a head of lettuce into the basket. “I guess Joe was surprised to see you.”
“Not really. He knew I was in town. There aren’t many secrets in Dreyerville.”
“Not many, but there’s still a few.” Like the truth about why you left, Doris’s expression seemed to say.
Syl wished she could tell her. Before that, she had to work up the courage to tell Joe. After what she had put him through, he deserved to hear it before anyone else.
“He’s turned into a fine man,” Doris said.
Syl was silent.
“After all the trouble he had, it’s nice he’s been able to make something of himself.”
Syl felt the unexpected sting of tears. “He was supposed to finish college. I always thought he would.”
“I think he likes what he’s doing. He’s real good at it.”
“Yes, I imagine he is,” she said taking a calming breath. “Joe was always good at whatever he