Astrid gripped the arms of the chair and pulled herself forward. Alex had parked her scooter just out of reach, but if she made sure to put all her weight on her good foot, she could take a valiant hop and reach it. A victory breath passed her lips once she was upright and on the scooter, and she crossed the few yards of the living room to get a good look at the bedroom. It would do. She wouldn’t have as much space to walk between the furniture, but according to Alex’s sketch, everything would fit.
Alex’s voice wafted in from the hallway, and the little dog across the hall barked its protests from behind the closed door. Another voice, deeper, answered Alex.
“Mom?” Alex said as he came through the open door.
“Here.” Astrid turned the scooter back out of the bedroom and into sight.
“You should be sitting down.”
“I’m fine.” But she acquiesced to the plastic Adirondack chair once again.
Two of the movers rolled in her dresser on a wide dolly. A third carried two table lamps. Including Alex, there were four men to accomplish the moving in. Astrid felt as if she were watching events unfold for someone else’s life.
“Knock, knock.” The chirpy voice belonged to a petite woman standing at the door.
“Come in,” Alex said.
Astrid rather thought granting admittance ought to be her prerogative. She recognized the woman. Dark short hair. Big brown eyes. Smartly dressed.
“Hello, Joy,” Astrid said. TRANSITION COORDINATOR, her name tag said.
“Welcome to Sycamore Hills. We’re so glad to have you.”
“Thank you.”
“I thought you might enjoy meeting a few people,” Joy said.
“Already?” Astrid said. “We’ve only just begun unloading.”
“Why don’t you go, Mom?” Alex said. “We’ll get the truck unloaded, and you can sit somewhere a little more comfortable in the meantime.”
The glance between Joy and Alex told Astrid that this had been the plan all along. The voice of Alex’s son filled her head. “Resistance is futile,” he liked to say at every opportunity.
She had no reason to resist. If she couldn’t help, she might as well be out of the way.
“That would be lovely,” she said, reaching for her scooter again.
“I could bring a wheelchair if that would be easier for you,” Joy said.
“No, thank you.” Astrid rose to demonstrate mastery over the scooter. She might be aged and injured, but she didn’t require a wheelchair.
“I’ll find you in a few minutes,” Alex said. “You have your phone?”
Astrid nodded. At home she hadn’t always kept her cell phone within reach. It had been fortuitous that it was in her pocket when she fell and that it had survived the fall in working order. Now, she supposed, it would be smart to imitate her teenage grandchildren who couldn’t be separated from their phones. It was in the quilted bag strapped to the handles of the scooter. Alex’s wife had made it, including embroidering Astrid’s name on it with her fancy sewing machine.
In the hall, Joy said, “On my way in, I saw Carly. She’s the physical therapist who will be helping you. Would you like to begin by meeting her?”
Three times a week for six weeks. Astrid had heard what the doctor recommended.
“Meeting Carly would be a good place to start,” Astrid said.
“Right down this hall. We have a fully accredited therapy room.” Joy’s steps were patient, never moving faster than Astrid could manage. If Alex’s boys had her scooter, they would be riding it at maximum speed down the length of the wing. Joy led her down the hall and turned left past the laundry room.
“The staff will do your laundry once a week,” Joy said, “but you are free to use the laundry room in between if you need to. Instructions are on the machines.”
Astrid nodded. They passed the nurses’ office and a small theater, finally coming to a large brightly lit room fitted with treadmills, stationary bicycles, stair machines, and therapy tables. Two young men in gray scrubs stood guard as two mostly bald men followed instructions on the equipment. Since Astrid had never used this sort of equipment before her fall, she couldn’t imagine she would begin now—at least not once her physical therapy was complete.
At a desk in the corner, a young woman lifted her head. Jetblack hair hung in a braid halfway down her back. Green eyes popped from the olive tone of her face.
“Hello, Carly,” Joy said. “I’ve brought Astrid to meet you.”
Carly came around the desk and offered a handshake. Astrid balanced carefully to accept it. Carly’s eyes took in Astrid’s face and then dropped to her left foot.
“I’ve just been reviewing your file,” Carly said. “I’m sorry for your fall, but we’ll get you moving soon enough.”
“And perhaps teach me to do the jig.” Astrid winked. “Can you do that?”
Carly blinked and then laughed. “Maybe we can find a YouTube video and learn together.”
The young woman, perhaps just shy of thirty, had a pretty smile, but the lines in her face hadn’t relaxed with the laugh. She carried a burden, Astrid decided. Astrid knew a thing or two about burdens.
“When do we begin?” Astrid said.
“You’re on my schedule for tomorrow,” Carly said. “I’ll do a full assessment of strength and mobility in your leg and foot, and we’ll make a plan to go from there.”
“I solemnly swear I shall be a dutiful and obedient patient,” Astrid said.
Her promise evoked another smile from Carly, once again with strain in her eyes.
“Thank you, Carly,” Joy said. “We’ll let you get back to work.”
“See you tomorrow.” Carly turned back to the papers on her desk.
“Let me know if you need to sit down,” Joy said. “There are chairs all up and down the halls, and of course the library, the lobby, and the parlor downstairs are good places to go if you are in the mood for conversation. The fireplaces seem to attract groups.”
“Especially at this time of year, I suppose,” Astrid said.
“I can hardly believe Christmas is only ten days away. Decorating will start soon. You’ll meet Penny, our director of fun. She’ll be in charge.”
They came to a round table in an open space at the top of the stairs. Three women were playing cards. They looked up, and Joy made introductions. The only name that stuck was Betty.
“Do you play cards?” Betty asked.
Astrid laughed. “I don’t suppose playing Go Fish with my granddaughters counts.”
“We’ll make sure you have a better time than that. Look for us in the dining room for dinner and we’ll get to know each other.”
Joy and Astrid took the elevator downstairs and continued the tour. Astrid had been to the building before, in the process of choosing where to move, but she was grateful for the reminder of where things were. She met the receptionist and a couple of the caregivers in blue scrub tops who would be on hand if she needed something. Joy pointed the way to the dining room and reminded Astrid of the hours when meals would be served. They ended the tour in the bistro adjacent to the dining room, where the gas fire was welcoming and coffee and other beverages were handy all day. Joy sat with her, both of them drinking coffee, probing for any questions Astrid might have.
Astrid hadn’t moved in forty years. She was going to need time to adjust.
“There you are.” Alex breezed into the bistro.
“You need to be on your way, don’t you?” Astrid said.
“I’m sorry, but yes.” Alex handed Astrid a key. “I did my best to get some boxes unpacked so you have the basics ready. The main thing is your bed is set up and made, and your clothes are in the closet.”
“Thank you,” Astrid said. “For everything.” As awkward as this transition felt, Alex deserved credit for making it as painless as possible.
“I didn’t unpack everything,” Alex said. “I thought you might want to do that yourself when you’re up to it. Put things where you want t
hem. I stacked the boxes in one corner.”
Astrid nodded and squeezed his hand. “Have a good flight.”
“I’ll be back for Christmas,” he said. “We’ll all be together, just like always.”
“Yes.” They would all be together, but not at her home.
“You’ll be all right.”
The statement rose as if it were a question. For a grown adult and an accomplished business leader, sometimes Alex was still a little boy seeking assurance.
“I’ll be fine,” Astrid said. “Go, before you miss your plane.”
CHAPTER 3
The engine started. These days Carly was never sure that it would. She needed a new car, but too many work and address changes in the last two years made it impossible to get a loan. The piddly amount of her paycheck she was setting aside to trade up for something a little newer wasn’t adding up fast enough. It didn’t help that she had to keep dipping into that account to pay for repairs to keep her clunker running in the meantime.
But for today, right now, the car started. The red numerals in the dash chided her for leaving work a few minutes late, which once again meant she would be a few minutes late picking up Tyler and might be exposed to the scowl of the preschool director who monitored the comings and goings of parents far too fastidiously, in Carly’s opinion. Carly had mastered walking past the office to her son’s classroom without meeting the eye of any staff or the few parents who might also be straggling after the rush toward closing time.
Tyler was in a full-day program now, which theoretically should have made it easier for her to schedule her work hours around dropping him off and picking him up. Somehow, though, she was always late.
And nervous. She had to scan her surroundings six times as carefully as a normal person, and even then she wasn’t sure she hadn’t missed something. Another parent followed her into the parking lot this time, which relieved Carly from being the last.
At the open door to Tyler’s classroom, she squatted and awaited his hurtling body to fill her arms as it did every day. She inhaled the scent of the gentle children’s shampoo she had rubbed into his hair during his bath last night. His hair was getting long again. Her mother had begun hinting that it was time for a haircut, but Carly loved the softness of his long blond strands under her fingers and every week decided to wait just a bit longer. Carly looked up at the teacher putting papers in Tyler’s backpack. He was supposed to do that himself. She would have to talk to him again, and this time she would make herself sound firm and nonnegotiable.
“He had a good day,” Miss Lesa said.
“Was he quiet during mat time?” Carly asked.
“I think he may even have dozed off this time.”
Carly put a hand on her son’s smooth cheek. “Did you have a nap today?”
“I told you. I’m too big for naps.”
Carly stood up, still holding him, and shrugged her shoulders at Miss Lesa. Lots of four-year-olds didn’t take naps. As long as he stayed on his mat and was not disruptive, he would earn a sticker.
“He’s delightful,” Miss Lesa said. “The other children like him. I know you were worried that the transition was a little rough at the beginning, but he seems to have made a wonderful adjustment, considering he transferred in so late in the school year. He knows the classroom routine and is respectful. You have nothing to worry about other than a few misplaced worksheets.”
“Thank you.” Nothing to worry about. This time. Tyler could be in another new school in a few weeks. How long could one child be expected to make seamless transitions to new settings? Carly scribbled her name in the binder, signing Tyler out, before putting him on his feet and handing him his “packpack” as he called it.
Fifteen minutes later, they tumbled through the back door of her mother’s home. Tyler hugged his grandmother’s knees on his way through the kitchen, no doubt determined to turn on the television. Their stay was supposed to be temporary. A month, two at most, while Carly got on her feet. That was two years ago. Now this house, in a neighborhood of well-kept lawns and fenced-in yards, was the most consistent element of Tyler’s existence. And so far they had been safe. Tyler had been in three schools, and Carly had been in four jobs, but this sanctuary hadn’t been physically breached. The moment Carly felt her mother was genuinely threatened, she would take Tyler and go. Where? She had no idea. But her mother had nothing to do with the troubles.
She dropped her keys and bag on the counter. Her mother looked up.
“Good day?” Carly asked.
“A very good day.” Her mother stirred a pot. “And yours?”
Carly nodded. “I’m busy enough that the day goes quickly. They assigned a new patient to me today. A German woman. At least she sounds German.”
“Maybe you can use your high school German, after all,” her mother said. “I made corn chowder and biscuits.”
“Tyler’s favorite.”
“Every little boy deserves a gran who will spoil him.”
“Well, he hit the jackpot with you. We both did.”
Her mother tapped the ladle on the side of the pot and then set it on the counter. “I know circumstances haven’t been ideal for you, but I am still your mother. Not being completely on your own is probably the safest thing for both of you right now, and I have plenty of space.”
Carly kissed her mother’s cheek and took dishes down from the cupboard before calling Tyler back to the kitchen to wash up. When he saw the giant biscuits come out of the oven, he was more than willing to comply.
“Slow down,” Carly cautioned in the middle of supper. “You’re eating too much too fast.”
“But it’s my favorite,” Tyler countered.
“You don’t want your favorite food to make you sick.”
Tyler bit into a third biscuit, but he did chew more slowly this time.
After supper, Carly rummaged through his backpack for notes or permission slips. The Christmas program was only a few days away, and she had yet to find Tyler a Santa hat and sew a jingle bell on the tip. She bathed him, letting him play in the water until it went tepid, and then negotiated the books they would read together that night. Tyler proposed thirteen. Carly suggested three. Since Tyler was four and had a limited concept of the difference between three and thirteen, his next offer was four, which Carly gladly accepted. Fed, clean, and sleepy, he didn’t resist when she said it was bedtime. He picked out his clothes for the next day and climbed into bed. Carly tucked the quilt around him as he burrowed in.
“Stay, Mommy,” he said.
She always stayed. He seldom took more than a few minutes to drop off, especially since he had abandoned regular naps. In those moments, in the glow of his sailboat nightlight, Carly could study the features of his face and wonder how something so good came out of her mistakes. His shoulders rose and fell, and as soon as the rhythm was even, Carly began breathing along with him and counting to a hundred. To Tyler this was an enormous number. To Carly it was enough for her to feel his sweet peace invade her rattled spirit and calm her as well.
In the living room, her mother was working on a sweater she was knitting for Tyler for Christmas, a medley of blues and browns.
“Mom, you must be tired from working all day and making dinner,” Carly said. “Why don’t you have an early night?”
Her mother lifted her knitting needles for Carly to inspect the project dangling from them. “Do you see any sleeves on this thing?”
Carly shook her head. “Maybe it could be a vest instead.”
“It will be a sweater. He needs a good sweater to see him through the winter.”
Carly picked up the stack of papers she had brought home from work and once again read the file of Astrid. With both an ankle and a lower leg to rehabilitate, they had some hard work ahead of them. Not many octogenarians would be using a scooter. A wheelchair would be safer to keep the weight off without risking another fall. The doctor’s notes indicated that he believed Astrid had adequate upper body strength to use the
scooter, and Carly had seen for herself that this was true. Still, she would feel better when Astrid could safely put enough weight on the foot to use a walker instead.
She read files while her mother clicked her knitting needles, occasionally humming a measure of a Christmas carol. Outside, the wind kicked up. During the evening news, the meteorologist said there could be light snow before morning. Mother and daughter drifted toward their bedrooms.
Carly’s cell phone startled her out of deep sleep, and she pounced on it before the noise would wake Tyler across the hall.
No one would speak to her. She knew that, but she answered anyway.
“Hello.”
Silence. Carly held her own breath in order to hear his.
It was him. It was always him. He was the reason Carly left a perfectly good job doing physical therapy with children. Truman was an assistant who worked with several of the therapists in the pediatric center. Carly was the single mother of a toddler, and Truman fancied himself the answer to all her troubles. In the beginning, they’d been friends. He’d worked at the center for a long time and helped her acclimate. Occasionally they had lunch together, and once they went together to a movie they both wanted to see. That was all it was. But no matter how kindly but firmly Carly discouraged his attentions, he set his romantic sights on her all the more.
Finally, she looked for another job.
And then he found her.
He always found her. He always discovered her new cell phone number. There was no telling what systems he was hacking into to do that, or what stories he spun to persuade someone to give him the information, or how many different numbers he would call from to avoid the block she put on his calls.
With one movement of her thumb, she ended the call. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone?
CHAPTER 4
Astrid woke. The fleeting disorientation was normal, she told herself, like waking up in a hotel room and not being sure where the bathroom was. Sycamore Hills. She lived here now. This would be her morning view. Sunlight leaking through thin slats in the blinds reminded her that her apartment faced east, and if she got up early enough she would see the sun rise. But she had never been a sunrise person. She was, however, a breakfast person. Most mornings she was content to make a piece of toast in the apartment and spread some peanut butter over it, and the coffeemaker would be right there on the cramped counter. But today—and every day—a hot, full, paid-for breakfast would await her if she could make her way to the dining room in time.
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