by Amy Isaman
An hour later, I’d talked to the school principal and to my mother-in-law who assured me that Trent was punishing himself worse than any punishment I might mete out to him, which worked for me. Though I did tell her to confiscate the car keys, his video game console, and change the wi-fi password. When he was at home, she needed to keep his phone. If he left the house, he could have it back. But he would only be leaving for school and work, and she’d be taking him.
And still no sign of Anne. I texted her one last time, but she didn’t respond. Was she still furious with me? Or was it because Brian was with her? I guess it didn’t really matter though because I wasn’t leaving until my mom was in the car with me.
Every time the door to the ER swooshed open, I tried to see back to the room where Mom was when I left, but I never did catch a glimpse of Anne or Brian. It took three hours for the door to open and reveal a nurse pushing mom out in a wheelchair. Her left arm was wrapped in some sort of brace and held up by a sling.
“Mom, how are you? What did they say?” I ignored my sister and brother-in-law who flanked her, one on each side.
“Tricia, I thought you went home.”
“Nope, I’ve been out here waiting for you. I left to get a cup of coffee for Anne and I and Brian arrived while I was in the cafeteria. They only allow two visitors at a time, and neither of them would leave and let me in to see you.”
My mother glared at each of them in turn and shook her head in dismay.
I wanted to hug her.
“Let’s just get you home, Phyllis. Anne, go get your car, and we can get her settled. I’ll follow the two of you in my car and help her in the house.” Brian set his hand possessively on mom’s shoulder, which she shrugged off.
“No. I want to ride in my Suburban. It’s much more comfortable than Anne’s car. Tricia, go get it.” My mom twisted around in the seat and smiled at the nurse. “Can you please follow my daughter to my car? I’m riding with her. And Brian,” she added, “come with us. I might need help.”
“If your daughter can pull your car up here, we’ll wait,” the nurse said.
“I’ll be right back.” I tried not to skip across the parking lot. Hah. Take that, bossy Brian. Both my sister and her husband refused to make eye-contact with me as I pulled into the circular drop-off and pick-up point, and we loaded my mom up. Brian practically lifted her into the car and buckled her in.
“Drive safe,” he commanded before slamming the door. What did he think I was going to do? Drive dangerously?
Mom was stiff from her fall, but thankfully, she hadn’t broken her arm, only strained it. They’d done a comprehensive check on her hip, though, and wait for her doctor to come in and check her out, which is what took so long.
An hour later, I pulled into her driveway. Brian was the first one to mom’s door where he helped her out and pretty much carried her into the house while Anne and I watched.
“Tricia, please,” Anne murmured after she unlocked the door and Brian passed by her, pretty much carrying our mother. She held onto my arm, stopping me from going into the house.
“What?” I glanced over at her.
“Every time you look at Brian, it’s pretty clear how you feel. I know you hate him and are angry, but please, just don’t say anything about it right now.” She nodded toward her husband who was settling our mom into her chair and gave me a pleading look.
My heart broke for her. She was right. I was furious with him, with zero respect or affection for the man, but she had to go home with him. I didn’t understand why she didn’t leave, but I certainly didn’t want to make her life any worse, which is what would happen if I said a word.
“I won’t. I promise.” I reached over and wrapped my arms around my sister. “I love you,” I added and squeezed her extra hard.
Anne blinked back tears. “This is harder than you can ever imagine.”
Mom grunted as she lowered herself into her chair, interrupting our moment. “That hurt.”
“You okay?” I asked, hurrying to mom’s side.
“I’ll get you tea,” Anne added.
“I have to get back to work,” Brian said. He nodded at Anne, patted mom’s shoulder, and ignored me completely, but at least he left, so I could breathe again. I didn’t realize until he walked out the door that I’d even been holding my breath. God, how did Anne live like this every day?
“So, you’ll never guess what Trent did this weekend.” I settled in on the couch and decided to share his mooning debacle and try to lighten the mood a bit.
♦♦♦
My new plan to devote myself completely to my family and my mother started perfectly the next day as I woke before Mom, got the coffee made, tidied up the kitchen, and even took a few minutes to myself to write in my journal and have a little meditative moment. I sat on the couch, the sun streaming in the window behind me, warming me. For the first time since Frank’s death and Brian’s blowup, I felt normal without that tinge of underlying apprehension that’d been dogging me. I spent every moment tiptoeing around trying not to upset anyone, only to somehow piss everyone off, except my mom. Looking out the window, I decided that if at all possible, we’d get outside today, possibly bring the garden furniture out of the shed and get it set up on the back deck. Mom used to love to garden, and while she still puttered, her hip and knees prevented her from getting out as much as she used to. A little fresh air and a change of scenery would probably do us both some good, even if it was just the back deck.
The air was still brisk, but maybe she’d want her coffee outside this morning? At least I could offer it. I still hadn’t heard a peep from her, so I hurried back to my room, threw my coat on over the sweats that I slept in, tucked my feet into my slippers and headed out back.
Mom’s garden shed sat in the far back corner of the yard. I pulled open the door and peered in. Shelves lined each side, filled with dusty bags of fertilizer and garden supplies. The lawn mower was parked right in front of the door, and behind that was a stack of her patio chairs, though I didn’t see any cushions, only the metal frames. I yanked out the lawn mower, parked it on the grass, and started pulling out the chairs. I only needed two, but where the hell were the cushions? Probably underneath one of the tarps in the back behind all the furniture, which meant I’d have to get everything out. This was not the quick jaunt out to the shed to grab a chair I was planning. It was 7:30 in the morning, and I was covered in dust.
It took fifteen minutes to untangle the chairs, which were stacked up in a teetery mess, and another five minutes to carry two of the damn things to the back deck. I sat the rest of them on the lawn next to the shed. I peered back in, wondering where the hell Brian and Anne stored the cushions when my phone pinged with a text.
Carly: Frank’s funeral is tomorrow.
Okay. Was this an invitation?
I plopped down into one of the cushion-less chairs and sort of balanced on the two plastic straps that were supposed to hold a cushion while I typed my response: Thanks for letting me know. What time? Would you like me to come?
I’d just put my whole schedule in Carly’s hands. I quickly typed another message: And if I come, my mom will be with me. She fell again and can’t be left alone right now. So it’ll really be up to her if we can make it.
Carly: It’s up to you if you want to come. I don’t think there’ll be many people there, so I thought I’d let you know.
Shit. She was going to be alone with her little girl at her husband’s funeral. Okay. What time?
Carly: 10 am.
I thanked her and shoved my phone back into my coat pocket. If mom were up to it, we’d go. But then I wondered if that would piss Anne off? Or hurt her feelings? Did that matter? I didn’t even know anymore.
The last piece of patio furniture in the shed was a heavy chaise lounge. I tugged at it and instantly decided it was too big and awkward to carry by myself, so I shoved it to the side as best as I could, so I could squeeze by it and get to the back of the shed. A tarp covered s
omething in the far back corner, and I hoped it was the cushions. Pulling it off, a cloud of dust puffed into the air, choking me. As soon as I could open my eyes after the dust settled, I found two large bags of fertilizer. Behind those was a box filled with a large plastic garbage bag which I instantly untwisted and glanced into, thinking maybe Anne shoved some of mom’s pillows for her chairs in there, but it looked like grass seed. What was mom doing with all of this seed? Dad used to have a bag of it for reseeding the small areas of the lawn that died because our dogs peed on them, but mom didn’t have dogs anymore. Why would Brian keep huge bags of seed like this? Her grass looked healthy to me.
I tried to shove the box further into the corner, so I could turn around easier, but it didn’t budge. The thing felt like it was nailed to the floor. I peered inside the bag again, and my heart stopped.
Oh. My. God.
The round edge of a gold coin peeked above the seed. I shoved my hand into the bag and felt not one, but a lot of coins buried in the seed.
How many were in here? I pulled out a handful of gold coins. This was a fortune. A massive fortune. Brian had the gold all along? I stared at the coins in my hand, stunned. He went back up there and stolen the treasure from his father and Frank? I couldn’t wrap my brain around this. How did Anne not know? Okay, that was a stupid question. Of course, he wouldn’t tell his wife. He was a control freak asshole. Anne wouldn’t ever come out here. Brian helped mom with the yard. He at least had that redeeming quality, but it wasn’t enough, wouldn’t ever be enough, and now, he’d stolen and hid a fortune from his whole family for years.
How could he?
I didn’t think it was possible to get angrier at a person that I already hated with every cell in my body.
I held my hand over the seed and shook it off the four coins that I held. Shoving them in my pocket, I twisted the bag back up, threw the tarp back over it, and tried to make it look like I hadn’t just discovered millions of dollars’ worth of gold coins in my mother’s garden shed when my phone rang.
I yanked it from my pocket and my heart stopped when I saw the name on the screen.
“Mom?”
“Where are you? I need help. You left again.”
I sidled between the shelves and the damn chaise lounge as fast as I could. “I’m coming. I’m here. I’m outside in the shed. Are you okay?”
“No, Tricia. I’m not.”
And she hung up.
I ran across the lawn in my slippers, a gold treasure clanking around in my coat pocket.
Chapter 16
MY SLIPPERS SKIDDED ON the deck as I ran up the steps toward the house, their soles wet from the dewy grass. Me falling was just what we did not need, but thankfully, I’d set the chairs at a convenient spot and caught myself.
“Mom, I’m coming,” I shouted as soon as I got the old slider open.
The pungent smell of urine hit me as soon as I opened her bedroom door. I felt like a complete and total asshole. She sat on the edge of her bed, glaring at me, and holding her wrist with her good hand.
“Oh, Mom. I’m so sorry. I was outside getting the deck ready for you to sit out there.”
“Why? Why were you worried about me going outside? You know I need help. Especially after this week.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I guess I thought you’d sleep later.” Even as I said the words, I knew they sounded like a lame excuse.
“Maybe Anne is right. Maybe you should just go home, and we can hire help who’s here when I need them.”
I felt nauseous. “Mom, no. I’m right here. Let’s get you cleaned up and dressed. Come on.”
She refused to look at me as I set the walker in front of her and reached under her arms to help her stand.
“My hip and wrist are stiff from sleeping, and I’m not strong enough to pull myself up with one hand. I hate this.”
I felt like even more of a troll.
“I know. Me too.”
She refused to speak or even look at me other than to tell me she wanted some privacy in the bathroom after I helped her out of her soiled clothes. I retreated to her bedroom, shut the bathroom door, and stripped the bed, berating myself the entire time. I wanted to take care of my mom. I was here to take care of her, and somehow, I kept completely screwing it up.
An hour later, mom was cleaned up, dressed, and settled on the deck with some coffee. I found the cushions for the chairs in her walk-in closet, of all places. The sheets and her nightgown were in the laundry, and my mind turned to the gold as I stared across the yard at the shed.
Should I tell Mom about it?
I couldn’t tell Anne. If Brian found out that we knew about it, he might move it, or it might send him into some rage, and who knew what he’d do? He was crazy.
No matter what, I needed to somehow get some of it to Carly, and if we could siphon off enough for Anne, it could be her escape route. If she was staying because she felt she couldn’t afford to leave.
If we took it all, he’d hunt us down. Of that, I was sure.
I sat on the deck chair next to mom and tried to focus on my breathing to calm myself. It wasn’t yet mid-morning, and I’d already found a treasure and cleaned my mother up from an accident. Two firsts for me.
Well, finding treasure wasn’t a first, but finding this treasure was.
“Mom, I’m sorry about this morning.”
She nodded but still wouldn’t look at me.
“Tomorrow, I’ll stay inside until you’re up and I’ll crack your door so I can hear you. I’ll get up early. This whole thing was totally my fault.”
She shrugged. “I did fine last night. I didn’t realize how stiff I’d be this morning from the fall. Neither of us did. I know I lashed out earlier, but this isn’t your fault. It just happened.”
“If I was here yesterday, you wouldn’t have fallen—”
“You sure about that?” she interrupted me. “There’s no guarantee. And I wanted you to go. I want to be able to live on my own. I know what happens to little old ladies who lose mobility. They end up in nursing homes where they fade away and die. I don’t want that to happen to me.”
“Well, nobody can be sure that you wouldn’t have fallen, but I would have been here to help you. And I wasn’t.” The sharp edge of guilt knifed into my gut again.
“I’m a grown woman, Tricia. I’ve lived on my own for decades. I don’t want you to be here at every turn to take care of me. Trust me. This is harder on me than it is on you.”
“Well, of course it is. You’ve got a rebuilt hip and now a sprained wrist. That must hurt.”
“No, that’s not at all what I mean. My body will heal, or it won’t. It’s the whole idea that I can’t live on my own right now that, frankly, pisses me off.” She took a sip of coffee and finally looked at me. “And it scares me. I’m not ready to move out of here and be more of a burden on you two.”
“Mom. You’re not a burden. Ever. And you’re years away from moving in with Anne or me or one of those assisted living places.”
She shrugged and shook her head. “We’ll see. I have to be able to get out of bed on my own, every day.”
“Of course, you do. That’s what physical therapy is for. Don’t give up. You have to give your body time to heal.” This woman who sounded so broken did not feel at all like my mom.
“I’m not giving up. I’m just facing reality. I couldn’t get myself to the bathroom this morning, sweetheart. It scared me if I’m being totally honest.”
Guilt stabbed again. “That’s because you just underwent surgery and now a hurt wrist. Your body is healing. It wasn’t because you’ve got dementia or couldn’t find the bathroom or something. You’ll be fine in a few weeks. But, if you really want me to leave, I can.” It killed me to say that, but I had to offer, especially if that’s how she really felt.
Thankfully, she shook her head. “No. I’d rather have you here over a stranger. I was frustrated. I’m sorry.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
&nbs
p; “Yes, I’m sure. Stay for another week, and we’ll re-evaluate. I know you need to get back to your life.”
I nodded. “I can do a week for sure. Maybe a little more. I guess we can end the pity party. For both of us?”
At that, she finally laughed. “Yes. Party’s over.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sun. In a month or two, it would be too hot to sit out here at this time, but in the spring and fall, it was beautiful.
“Carly texted this morning.” I interrupted the silence, hoping a quick change of subject would keep her from ruminating on her aging body failing her. “Frank’s funeral is tomorrow morning at ten. I think I’d like to go if you’re up for it.”
“I have physical therapy at one, right?” Mom laid her head back on the chaise lounge, her eyes closed.
“Yes, I think we’d have time. But if it’s too much to go to the service before your appointment, we don’t need to go. I’ll tell Carly about your fall. She’d understand.”
Mom didn’t respond, and I wondered if she’d fallen asleep.
She broke the silence but kept her eyes closed. She sounded tired. Sad. “Are you going to tell your sister about it?”
“I think I have to. She’s pretty much been angry with me since I got here. One more thing isn’t going to make things worse.”
“Go easy on her, Tricia.” Mom sighed deeply, “She’s doing the best she can. I think we all are.”
“I know. I’m trying.” This whole conversation only reminded me that we needed to get her the hell away from Brian, but how?
A robin perched on the fence post and stared at me while I pondered the entire situation. Frank had been murdered. His biggest enemy was his ex-partner, with whom he found a cache of gold. Somebody, either Frank himself, Del, or someone else went back into the hills and stolen the rest of it. Frank denied doing it, and Del did too, but Frank paid off his truck and all the vehicles. And he had some coins in his safe deposit box. He also cashed in some coins at one of the shops in Boise. A young man sold some of the same style coins but hadn’t been in for a few years. That was Alex, helping out his dad before they both died.