Viola Avenue
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Eventually, Dr. Nell appeared and took Claire and Delia back to her office. Ian went back to the lounge to sit by Daniel and watch the game.
Delia was teary-eyed, and Dr. Nell listened thoughtfully while Claire told her what had just happened. After she was through, Dr. Nell took a deep breath and sat back in her chair.
“The medication we are trying with your father has made him much more emotionally comfortable. He was terribly agitated when you left the other day, and he had trouble sleeping. I prescribed a sleep medication, and then we began this new medication the next day. He was lethargic at first, but by evening he was congenial and asking when he could leave.”
“He says you asked him to help with the other patients,” Claire said.
“No, I didn’t,” Dr. Nell said. “I think he needed to come up with a way to make his stay here seem acceptable, to rationalize it, and that’s what he came up with.”
“He didn’t recognize my mother,” Claire said. “How could he recognize me but not her?”
“Strokes can cause parts of the brain to die and new pathways to form,” Dr. Nell said. “Sometimes the medications that help manage behavior can exacerbate memory problems. This is not unusual. He’s living in the past now, and you probably look more like you did as a teenager than your mother does her thirty-five-year-old self.”
“Should we correct him?” Claire asked.
“It will just agitate him,” Dr. Nell said. “You can insist on trying to prove your reality to your father, but if you want him to be content it would be better to accept his reality.”
“His memory won’t come back?” Delia asked.
“No,” Dr. Nell said. “I’m sorry, but he’s not going to get better. He may even get worse very quickly. Next time he may not know either of you.”
“I guess I knew that was a possibility,” Delia said.
“We need to talk about where he’ll go from here,” Dr. Nell said. “He qualifies for the V.A. It would not cost as much as a private facility and the care there is as good as any state-run facility. That would be my recommendation.”
“Do they have a dementia care unit?” Claire asked.
“They do,” Dr. Nell said. “They have several units, more secure as his dementia worsens, and nursing care when he’s bedfast.”
“How long do you think he has?” Claire asked.
“It’s hard to tell,” Dr. Nell said. “Some patients with dementia go quickly and some last years.”
“What do you think?” Claire asked her mother. “Should we choose the V.A.?”
“Tell me what you think about us having him at home,” Delia said to the doctor.
“Now that I’ve had the chance to work with him, I think it would be a mistake,” Dr. Nell said. “Seeing how fast he’s deteriorating mentally makes me think continued care would be best.”
“I see,” Delia said.
“You’re doing the best thing for him,” Dr. Nell said. “You have no reason to feel guilty. Dementia is a medical condition, and you are seeking the best medical care for him. This is all we know how to do right now. We try different medications and see how he does. Everyone is different, and the same medications won’t work for the same five people in exactly the same way. They also may only work for a while. His insurance pays for two weeks here. Give us those two weeks to work with him and get him stabilized. Then we can decide what steps to take next.”
“All right,” Delia said, and then sighed the mother of all sighs.
“Thank you,” Claire said. “I feel better after seeing him today.”
Ian hugged Claire and shook Delia’s hand when they left.
“Thank you for bringing my daughter,” he said to Delia. “You bring Delia next time and I’ll introduce her to everybody.”
“I will,” Delia said.
“I’m getting out of here in a week,” he told Claire.
“That’ll be great, Dad,” she said.
Claire and her mother held hands on the way out. Every time the buzzer rang this time, Claire felt as though someone had punched her in the gut.
Chapter Fourteen
On Monday morning, Hannah called Claire to see if she would pick up Sammy from Sacred Heart preschool and take him to the park to play until Hannah was done working.
When Claire arrived at Sacred Heart, Sister Mary Margrethe answered her ring at the door, and then fetched Sammy. He was glad to see Claire, and flew into her arms.
“Where Mama?” he asked.
“She’s working,” Claire said. “We’re going to go to the park to play until she’s done.”
“Me going to the park,” he told Sister Mary Margrethe. “Me going to slide down the slicky slide.”
“Now, Sammy, what did we learn today?” Sister M asked him.
“I going to the park,” he said.
“Sammy, that’s so good!” Claire said.
“I am going to the park,” Sister said.
“Come on!” Sammy said. “We play on the swings with you.”
“Well, I’ve only had one day,” Sister said. “We’re going to keep at it.”
“You’re so good at this,” Claire said. “He’s lucky to have you.”
“You girls need to practice with him,” Sister said. “It would make my job that much easier.”
“Sammy, you stayed at school all day without Auntie D,” Claire said. “You’re such a big boy.”
“Me … I scared of Sissie M,” Sammy whispered loudly. “She no let me … I leave.”
“A little consistent discipline never hurt anyone,” Sister said with a sniff.
Claire thanked Sister and then she and Sammy walked up to Rose Hill Park. While Sammy played on the playground with some other kids his age, Claire sat on a bench close by and checked her phone.
The national tabloids had got wind of the story. Claire was sure they’d quickly converge on Rose Hill, and thus Sloan’s PR army would soon be after her.
She sighed.
Her phone rang and it was Scott.
“Beatrice and Maurice provided an alibi for one another,” he said.
“So there’s a dead end,” Claire said.
“It seems like it,” Scott said. “Mercedes and Porsche have lawyered up, so unless the toxicology proves he was drugged, there’s no way I’m getting near those two.”
“This is so depressing.”
“Sometimes we don’t solve the crime,” Scott said. “That’s just the way it is.”
Claire ended the call and sighed. She checked on Sammy and saw someone she knew coming toward her.
“Hey,” she said to the young intern from hospice. “What are you doing here?”
Sally took a seat next to her and tucked her hair behind her ears.
“I’m meeting my mother,” she said, and then rolled her eyes.
“How’s that going?”
“The school gave her a partial severance, and the minister is helping her find a new job and a place to live,” she said. “Everyone there is so kind.”
“I didn’t realize your mother was working at the church.”
“She was supposed to be the new preschool teacher, but it didn’t work out,” Sally said. “She can’t do that anymore; she needs something less taxing, and not with children. The minister is going to try to find her an administrative job somewhere. Let’s hope he can.”
“I hope it works out,” Claire said.
Sammy came running up, but to Claire’s surprise, he went to Sally instead of her.
“Hello, Sammy,” Sally said. “Where’s your mother?”
“Her working,” he said. “Me … I playing with Claire.”
Sally looked at Claire with surprise.
“Hannah’s my cousin,” Claire said. “I didn’t know his teacher was your mother. I didn’t share what you confided in me with anyone. I hope you believe me.”
“I do,” Sally said. “It’s a small world, isn’t it?”
They watched the kids play until Hannah arrived, and Sally
seemed glad to see her again. When Sally’s mother arrived, she was stiff and formal in her greeting.
“I heard Sammy had a good assessment,” was all she had to say on that topic.
Hannah, to Claire’s surprise, was gracious and polite.
“It was a relief to me,” Hannah said. “I’m glad you suggested it.”
After Sally and her mother left, Hannah rolled her eyes at Claire.
“You were awfully nice to her,” Claire said.
“She’s a weirdo,” Hannah said. “I’m always nice to weirdos; like you, for instance. Good job not getting shot yesterday.”
Claire shook her head.
“I didn’t want Ed to report it.”
“You knew who he was when you lay down with him,” Hannah said. “You can’t be surprised when you got up with reporter fleas.”
Maggie arrived and joined them on the bench.
“Hey, Claire,” she said. “Remember how you said never again about working for me at the bookstore?”
“When do you need me?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Maggie said, “and all next week … and maybe for a few months … at least through Christmas … and ski season.”
“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays,” Claire said. “All the gossip and fashion mags I can read and unlimited café drinks.”
“Done,” Maggie said, and then to Hannah, “I’m not too worried about that, it’s not like she ever consumes that many calories. Ow!”
“I’m trying this Fitzpatrick pinching thing,” Claire said. “I think I like it.”
Claire stopped by Ava’s bed and breakfast on her way home, interested to see a “For Sale” sign in the front yard.
Ava beamed with happiness, but it may have been her face was lit up from the glare of the big rock on her finger.
“Wow!” Claire said. “Nice hardware.”
“He’s over at the building site,” Ava said. “Did I tell you he’s building us a house across the river?”
“I heard about it,” Claire said. “What’s it like?”
Ava got out the plans and showed Claire the circular drive, the grand stone and timber façade, and all the many rooms inside.
“That’s wonderful,” Claire said when she was through. “I’m so glad for you.”
“Thank you for being glad for me,” Ava said. “There’s no one I can talk to like I can talk to you.”
“How did the party go?”
“It was fine,” Ava said. “Will was late because he stopped to pick up my ring from the jeweler.”
“Everyone treating you all right?”
“He handled them beautifully,” Ava said. “He told his mother if she didn’t behave she’d never get to see her new grandbaby.”
“You’re pregnant? Congratulations!”
“Only about six weeks so I’m not telling anyone in the family but you,” Ava said.
“And the prenup?”
“His father didn’t mention it again and I never saw it, so I guess there won’t be one.”
“He’s so in love,” Claire said. “And I am glad for you. You deserve some happiness.”
“Will’s going to fly Charlotte home for the wedding.”
“How’s she doing?”
“See for yourself,” Ava said.
She tapped on her phone until a picture roll appeared, and then handed the phone to Claire.
The first group of pictures featured the Swiss mountains.
“The scenery is gorgeous,” Claire said.
Claire kept swiping until she came to the first photo of Charlotte.
Claire’s breath caught in her throat and her heart rate sped up.
“She cut off all her hair,” Claire said.
“She did that before she left,” Ava said. “I could have wrung her neck. I think she did it just to get back at me for grounding her.”
“What was she grounded for?”
“She and Rowan took a bus to New York a few weeks ago when I thought they were camping with a friend’s family. Will tracked her phone with this GPS program he has, or I never would have known she went. He flew up and brought them back, basically kicking and screaming. Luckily, he owns his own plane.”
“Two sixteen-year-olds in Manhattan is a very scary proposition. Anything could have happened.”
“I was frantic until he found her,” Ava said. “When she got home we grounded her, and forbid her from seeing Rowan again. His parents decided to send him to military school. We didn’t think it would be good for her to see him to say good-bye. Rowan’s father and Will discussed it, and decided it would be too traumatic for both of them; better to make a clean break.”
“She was heartbroken,” Claire said.
“You can sympathize,” Ava said. “You don’t know what it was like for the rest of us.”
“So you forbade her from saying goodbye to Rowan, and she threw a fit.”
“The morning he left she retaliated by cutting off all her hair. That was the last straw as far as I was concerned. She changed so much this summer. She quit confiding in me, was sneaking out at night, and defied every rule we established. Switzerland really was the last resort; we didn’t know what else to do.”
Claire couldn’t stop staring at the photo of Charlotte with short hair.
“She could so easily be mistaken for a boy,” Claire said.
“All that beautiful hair,” Ava said. “Gone.”
Claire looked at Ava, and saw what Rafe may have seen that evening in Alan’s apartment: a tall, thin, dark-haired woman in her late thirties; a mother desperately trying to cover up a crime that, if revealed, would ruin her young daughter’s life.
Claire’s mind raced as she swiped more slowly through the rest of the pictures. The very last one was a broad shot of Charlotte’s dorm room, and Claire saw something on the dresser that made her pinch and then spread her fingers on the screen in order to zoom in.
It was a bust of Shakespeare.
Wearing a fez.
Acknowledgments
Thank you to first readers Betsy Grandstaff, Terry Hutchison, and Ella Curry.
My most sincere appreciation to good friend and proofreader, John Gillispie.
Rest in peace, sweet June Bug, who was a mind-reader, an excellent judge of character, a loyal companion, and my first and best dog.
Congratulations to Gracie and George, who passed the Tucker County free-range-with-no-running-away test with flying colors. You both make our lives much sweeter.
Thank you to everyone who reads my books, takes the time to write reviews on Amazon, and sends me sweet emails.
Thank you to Tamarack: The Best of West Virginia, for selling my paper books in your beautiful building.
If you liked this book please leave a review on Amazon.com by clicking here (Thank you!)
Rose Hill Mystery Series:
Rose Hill
Morning Glory Circle
Iris Avenue
Peony Street
Daisy Lane
Lilac Avenue
Hollyhock Ridge
Sunflower Street
Viola Avenue
For Children:
June Bug Days and Firefly Nights
Ella’s New Hat and Her Terrible Cat
Terry Lee’s Home for Bluebirds (Photographs by Terry Hutchison)
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Email address: rosehillmystery@gmail.com
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