Hometown Ties

by Melody Carlson

“I’ve told myself I could probably adopt some grandchildren if I wanted. I still remember an older couple who played grandparents to Ashton while we were stationed in Germany. They came over for birthdays and holidays and really made a difference while he was in preschool.”

  “Sometimes nonrelatives are less complicated than the real thing. I know there were times when I wanted to disown my mother.” Abby chuckled. “But I have to admit she’s been a good grandmother to the girls.”

  Marley imagined what it would be like to have a little one around just long enough to spoil and then send home. “Surely there must be a child somewhere in Clifden who needs a doting grandma.”

  “Doesn’t Jack have grandchildren?” Abby asked.

  Marley cocked her head to one side. “Yes, but why should that have anything to do with me?”

  “Well, I just thought maybe you and Jack …” Abby smiled sheepishly. “I thought maybe Jack would like to share his grandchildren with you.”

  Marley chuckled. “Yes, he’s a generous guy; he probably would. If I was interested that is.”

  Abby leaned forward and lowered her voice. “So are you telling me you’re not interested? In Jack, I mean.”

  “I’m interested in his friendship. And I’m interested in having my art in his gallery.” Marley shrugged.

  Abby looked disappointed. “And that’s it?”

  “I can’t predict the future, Abby.”

  “But you’re saying you’re not attracted to him?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I haven’t really let myself go there yet. I keep telling myself that Jack’s a lot older than me.”

  “How old is he?”

  Marley laughed. “I don’t even know. But I think he’s in his sixties.”

  “Sorry to dampen your youthful spirits, but he’s not that much older.”

  “Maybe not.” Marley watched some young women coming into the coffeehouse and wondered why she didn’t feel that much older than they looked. Was she really in her fifties? Where had the years gone?

  “Jack seems like a good guy to me. I think he’d be a good catch.”

  “He is a nice guy. But I don’t know that I’m ready for a serious relationship right now. I spent so many years in a really bad marriage. And then, even after I got out, I was kind of stuck for a while, like I had arrested development or shell shock or something. But it was like I had to decompress for a couple of years. I had to learn how to live, how to breathe and walk on my own two feet. I feel like I’ve just moved beyond that stuck place. Moving back to Clifden and buying my beach house is a huge step for me. And maybe, now that I’m feeling stronger and more independent, I think I’d like to spread my wings and fly a bit.”

  Abby sighed, looking longingly out across the bay. “That sounds lovely. I wish I could fly too.”

  “Why can’t you?” Marley smiled hopefully. “So, tell me more about your bed-and-breakfast idea.”

  Abby’s eyes lit up. “I want to keep this news under my hat, but I heard that our old house, the Victorian that Paul and I lived in for all those years, may come up for sale soon. I’d always dreamed of turning it into an inn after the girls were grown and moved on. Operating a bed-and-breakfast sounds like fun to me. You know how I love to cook and play hostess and decorate and just basically take care of people. Why wouldn’t I make a good B and B owner?”

  Marley thought about it. “You know, you probably would, Abby. So what was Paul’s biggest worry?”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “Money, of course. First of all, he doesn’t like the idea of me using my savings for a down payment. Then he questioned what I’d use for collateral for the loan, and he was worried that I’d have to live at the B and B.”

  Marley nodded. “Those seem like legitimate concerns. Money and loans are a big deal and something you two need to discuss. And if he’s worried about you living at the B and B, it sounds like he wants to keep you around.”

  “To clean his house and cook his food. Sometimes I think that’s all he cares about.”

  “Sounds like this is something you should talk about with your counselor next time you meet.”

  “Yeah. Sorry to keep dumping on you.”

  “Sorry for not having more answers.” Marley looked at her watch. “And now my time is up. I’m on my bike today, and I promised myself to be back home by ten to work on my painting, so I should probably get moving.”

  “How’s the painting coming?”

  Marley forced a smile. “I made a few new brushstrokes yesterday, thanks to Janie, since she really likes it. She said she might even want to buy it for her house when I’m done. But I’m not holding my breath. Anyway, my plan is to stick a stack of old jazz albums on the stereo and force myself to paint until noon. If I put in two productive hours, my reward is to have lunch, then walk on the beach afterward. After that, I’ll try to paint for two more hours before I allow myself to break for dinner.”

  “What discipline.”

  Marley frowned as she stood. “It seems like I shouldn’t need discipline to do something I enjoy, but I’ve kind of had a case of painter’s block.”

  “Well, good luck.” Abby stood and picked up her purse. “I’ve got a busy day too. I plan to do some more investigation in regard to my bed-and-breakfast idea. I want to find out when the house will be for sale. I’m going to meet with Jackie Day and learn some of the nuts and bolts about running an inn, and then I have an appointment with a loan officer this afternoon.”

  “Let me know how it goes,” Marley told her as they walked outside. They hugged good-bye and parted ways. As Marley unlocked her bike, she wondered if Paul knew about Abby’s bank appointment. She suspected he didn’t, and she could imagine what he would think when he found out.

  Once again, Marley was exceedingly thankful for her single status. As she rode her retro-style Schwinn—complete with fat tires, padded seat, and wicker basket—along the old beach road, with the wind blowing her short hair, she imagined she was flying, that she truly did have wings. And it felt good.

  Chapter 9

  Caroline

  Trying to rebandage her mother’s feet was a bit like bull wrestling. Not that Caroline had ever wrestled a bull, but she’d been to a few rodeos in her time. In fact, she’d gone through a phase the summer before high school when she actually cleaned stalls in exchange for Western riding lessons. She’d taken this route shortly after admiring the rodeo queen in the Clifden Memorial Day parade. Astride a gorgeous palomino stallion and dressed in a pink-fringed rhinestone ensemble, Glenda Gordon looked like she was a real celebrity. Caroline’s new goal became to run for rodeo princess when she turned sixteen. She actually got pretty good at riding and even attempted barrel racing in a small rodeo up north, but eventually the smell of ripe manure, combined with the demands of cheerleading practice and the distraction of boys, tempted Caroline away from her cowgirl dreams.

  “Please … hold … still,” Caroline hissed between her clenched teeth as she tried once again to get the ointment on the sole of her mother’s right foot. But Ruby kicked again, and the ointment landed on the sheet.

  “Hurts—hurts—hurts!” her mother yelled so loudly that the neighbors probably thought Caroline was torturing her.

  “Fine.” Caroline stood. “I give up. But if you get an infection, you’ll have to go to the doctor.”

  Her mom whimpered as she pulled away, looking up at Caroline with the eyes of a wounded animal, as if she thought Caroline were responsible for her pain.

  “And you won’t be able to walk,” Caroline pointed out. “You’ll be stuck in bed all day.”

  Her mother turned from her now, facing the wall and still whimpering. Caroline looked at her watch. Well, at least the respite caregiver would arrive soon. Maybe Ruby would allow her to touch her feet. Frustrated, Caroline picked up the breakfast tray,
which was mostly untouched, and carried it back to the kitchen. Maybe the professional could coax her mom to eat something too. Despite Caroline’s brave talk to Beverly yesterday, she was having some serious doubts today about her ability to care for her mom. How could she care for someone who did not want to be cared for? Perhaps it really was time for that Alzheimer’s support group after all. Too bad it wasn’t until Friday.

  Caroline was just finishing cleaning the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Of course, the sound of the doorbell made her mother start calling out too, yelling, “Go away! Go away!”

  Caroline opened the door to see a stocky older woman. Her hair was various shades of gray and pulled into a tight, unattractive ponytail, but her brown eyes looked kind. “I’m Darlene Kinsey.” She held out what appeared to be an ID card. “Here to give you a break.”

  Caroline let out a relieved sigh as she introduced herself. “I’m so glad to see you. Come in.”

  “Beverly said that your mother is probably in the final stage of Alzheimer’s.” Darlene put her ID card back in her oversized canvas bag as she followed Caroline into the kitchen.

  “Yes. That’s what Beverly told me, too.”

  “That’s a lot to take on.” Darlene eyed Caroline with a questioning look. “It must be exhausting.”

  Caroline nodded sadly. “Yes. And this morning I’m wondering if Beverly is right. Maybe I do need to find a nursing home.”

  “Maybe you do, or maybe you just need a break. This will be your first experience with additional help. It might be a way to buy some time … to figure things out.”

  “And you’re experienced in working with people like my mom, right?” Caroline studied Darlene, wondering what kind of person would actually volunteer to do something like this. Was she a masochist or a saint? Or perhaps, like Caroline’s mom, Darlene wasn’t in her right mind either. What if she was some kind of sadistic elder abuser? Not that she looked mean.

  “My first experience was with my own mom.” Darlene set her bag on a kitchen chair. “She passed on about twelve years ago. At the time I cared for her, there wasn’t a lot of help or resources for in-home caregivers. No support groups. After Mom died, after I’d spent all that time learning things the hard way, I decided to get involved with senior services … hoping I could make a difference.”

  “That’s generous of you.”

  “I think God wants us to use our difficult times to help others.”

  “Maybe someday I’ll want to do that too.” Caroline sighed and wondered if that was a gross exaggeration or just a downright lie. “But right now I mostly want to run screaming in the opposite direction.”

  Darlene chuckled. “Yes. I remember that feeling.”

  Caroline explained about her mom’s messed-up feet and how she didn’t eat much breakfast. “Maybe she’ll respond to you better than she did to me.” But as much as she hoped it would be true, she was doubtful. Her mom rarely took to strangers, even long before Alzheimer’s kicked in. “Thanks to her feet, she’s pretty much confined to bed,” Caroline said as she led Darlene down the hallway. “If you have any suggestions, I’m more than open.” Caroline slowly opened the door, calling out to her mom as she entered the bedroom. “I have someone for you to meet, Mom,” she said in a cheerful voice.

  Her mom looked up with suspicious eyes, and then upon seeing Darlene she began to glare, pulling her curled fists into her chest in a defensive manner. “Go away!” she growled.

  “Darlene is here to help take care of you,” Caroline explained, although judging by her mom’s reaction, tightly shut eyes, and downturned head, she might as well have been speaking to the chair. “She’s a very nice woman, and if you get to know her, I’m sure you’ll like her.”

  “I’m happy to meet you, Mrs. McCann,” Darlene said in a friendly but not childish voice. “Don’t worry, I know it takes time to get to know new people.” She sat down on the chair by the bed now. “I took care of my own mother. She was a lot like you. She didn’t like meeting new people either.” Darlene waved to Caroline now, motioning that it was okay for her to leave. Then she continued rambling on in a gentle, soothing tone that almost made Caroline want to fall asleep. Instead, she backed away and, while her mother’s eyes were still shut, slipped out of the room. Feeling like a runaway child, she grabbed up her purse and darted out the front door, got into her car, and just drove.

  She didn’t even know where she was going or what she would do. All she knew was that she was getting away. For two glorious hours, she was free to do whatever she pleased! Of course, she was only a few blocks from home when guilt set in. What if her mom threw a fit? Or what if she needed a diaper change and Darlene couldn’t find the bag? Why hadn’t she showed Darlene where things were? Or what if there was some medical emergency? Caroline hadn’t even left her cell-phone number for Darlene. Maybe she should go back and take care of these things. Or maybe she should just call. But that might make things worse—especially if by some miracle her mother was actually getting used to Darlene and her soothing voice.

  Caroline turned onto a side street and pulled over. She tried to think. What should she do? What should she do? Was this how a mother felt the first time she left her infant with the babysitter? Or was this a twisted case of Stockholm syndrome? Caroline looked at the intersection sign and realized she was on Janie’s street. Maybe she should stop by there, check the progress of Janie’s redecorating efforts, and see if she had any more advice.

  But only the plumber was there, and he told Caroline that Janie had gone out to shop for tiles. So Caroline called Abby, trying her home phone first since Abby didn’t always keep her cell on. When no one answered, she tried the cell phone, and that went straight to voice mail. Caroline hung up and considered calling Marley, except Janie had told her of Marley’s plan to dedicate this part of the morning to painting. Caroline hated to disturb her. And, really, Caroline wasn’t a baby. She could handle this without running crying to her friends.

  And yet Caroline continued cruising through town in the hope she might spy Janie or Abby and talk them into getting coffee or an early lunch with her. But with no luck, she decided she could at least make use of this time by going to the store to pick up a few things. This would be her last chance at freedom until Friday, and that wouldn’t really be freedom since she’d promised to attend the support group, which she was actually looking forward to. That only showed how truly pathetic her life had become, but it also meant her next chance at freedom freedom wouldn’t be until Monday—five days away!

  On her way to the grocery store, she took a backstreet that ran right past Mulberry Manor. The nursing home had been around for as long as Caroline could remember. In fact, while Caroline was living in California, her grandmother had spent her final days there. And yet Caroline had never been inside those brick walls. Without really thinking, she turned in, parked in a guest space, and got out.

  Caroline knew that her mom had been the one to place Grandma here, because at the time Caroline had questioned the decision. Grandma suffered a stroke and needed assistance, but Caroline was surprised that her mom didn’t try to care for her. Of course, that might’ve had to do with Dad, since he didn’t get along with his mother-in-law any better than he got along with his wife. As Caroline walked through the door, she thought, If this place was good enough for Grandma, why wouldn’t it be good enough for Mom?

  “Can I help you?” a serious-faced young woman at the reception desk asked.

  Caroline felt a wave of guilt, as if she were about to betray her mother by having her locked up. “I, uh, I’ve been caring for my mom,” she began nervously. “She has Alzheimer’s, and I was wondering about putting her into a care facility. Not that I’ve made up my mind yet. I mean, I haven’t. I’m just curious, and I thought it might help to check this place out. If that’s okay?”

  “Are you on our waiting list?”

 
Caroline shook her head. “But it’s because I’m not sure. I mean, whether it’s a good idea or not. It’s a hard decision.”

  “Would you like to talk to someone?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I was hoping maybe I could just look around a little. You know, to decide whether my mom would fit in here.”

  The woman picked up the phone. “How about if I let our manager talk to you? I don’t think she’s too busy this morning.”

  Caroline just nodded and waited, feeling even guiltier now. What was she doing here? Really, maybe she should just turn and make a run for it before the manager came out.

  “I’m Marybeth Brimley.” A short brunette stuck out her hand and smiled. “How can I help you?”

  Caroline introduced herself and explained her dilemma and Beverly’s recommendation to look into nursing-home care. “But I might be premature,” she explained. “I just thought if I could look around it might help with my decision.”

  Marybeth nodded. “How about if I give you a quick tour of our facility?”

  “Thanks, I’d appreciate it.”

  Caroline wasn’t sure what she thought as Marybeth led her around. Certainly, it seemed fairly clean, probably cleaner than Caroline’s mom’s house, although Caroline didn’t blame herself for her mother’s pack-rat habit. And the “residents” seemed to be fairly normal. Just old. Many were in wheelchairs, and some looked a little spaced out, not unlike her mom at times, but no one appeared neglected or particularly unhappy or even crazy.

  A number of them were in the activity room, mostly gathered around the big-screen TV where The Price Is Right was playing. But there seemed to be games and other activities available. The dining room was cheerfully decorated in an aquatic theme with an interesting ocean mural on one wall. The rooms didn’t even seem institutional with their individual decor and furnishings, and they even had TVs. All in all, the place seemed okay, and yet something felt amiss. She felt slightly like she was being tricked, or maybe that was just her guilty imagination.