Right Where We Started. Pamela Hearon
him to the dogs to Tess. “Do you think—”
“I think there’s nothing wrong food won’t cure.” Her face relaxed. “Can you stay a few minutes? I’ll show you my apartment.” He pointed to the door in the wall that cut the garage in half.
“Put the puppy down, Tess.” She shook her head. “We can’t stay now. Mom’s in the car, and she was starting to get antsy. I need to get her home and get her fed.”
“Oh, sure.” He’d witnessed Helen’s restless behavior at the Labor Day picnic.
“But she takes a sedative and goes to bed around seven.” Audrey had her daughter by the hand and was moving out the door. “Maybe we’ll walk down and check on the dogs then?”
She was coming back? Tonight? He tamped down the enthusiasm in his voice that would only scare her away. “Sure. Feel free to come anytime.”
“Oh, by the way,” Audrey called over her shoulder. “Didn’t know if you’d want one, but there’s a doggy door in one of those sacks. The receipt’s with it. Just take it back if you don’t want it.”
A doggy door. She’d thought of everything. He grinned and waved as the car backed out of his drive.
Rummaging through the bags, he also found a food dish and a water bowl. He emptied one of the cans into the bowl and put it down beside mom dog, and she gobbled it up in about three bites. He reached for another can, but thought better of it. He’d seen starvation before. Too much food too quickly would only be thrown back up until the stomach adjusted. “Keep that down and I’ll give you more later.”
The dog’s expression went from expectant to resigned as if she understood precisely what he’d said.
He found the pet door in the largest bag. The contraption wasn’t just one of those swinging types. This was high-tech, with a sensor attached to the dog’s collar—also provided by Audrey—which emitted a signal that unlocked the pet door. It was pure genius, as it kept any other critters—opossums, skunks and raccoons, which were everyday sights in these parts—from being able to wander in, drawn by the scent of the food.
Their conversation from the night of the picnic came back to him. She still hadn’t given him an answer or a smile. Still hadn’t taken him up on his offer of friendship. But the dog had given them a second thing to share in their lives—Tess being the first.
“Share.” He squatted down beside the dog. “Might be a good name for you.” He gave a chuckle. “And if I give it a little twist and spell it C-H-E-R, she’ll be none the wiser...until I tell her differently.”
Cher licked his hand.
He picked up the pet door and looked at the directions for installation. They required a hole to be cut through his dad’s new garage door.
He was a dead man.
* * *
“HERE’S YOUR MEDICINE, MOM.” The pink pill Audrey held out was so small it hardly seemed possible it could contain a full night of sedation.
Her mom shook her head and waved her away. “I don’t want any, thank you. I’m full.”
“This is your medicine.” Audrey nudged her with the glass. “The pill helps you sleep.”
“I’m not sleepy.” Her mom crossed her arms tightly across her chest.
Although she tried to keep everything related to her mom on as much of a schedule as possible, Audrey had to be flexible and ready for whatever came up. Her mom had never refused any of her medicine before, but this could be the start of a new behavior she’d have to deal with. Hoping her mom would see it and take it on her own, she set the pill on the table along with the water glass. “I’ll leave it right here. Maybe you’ll want it in a minute.”
“Tell your father I need to speak with him.” Her mom glanced around the room, a worried look pinching her petite face. “And you need to call your sister in for supper.”
“Dad’s busy right now,” Audrey said, following the suggestion the doctor gave her to not engage Mom in upsetting dialogue unless she specifically asked if the family members were dead. “And Callie’s already eaten.” After years of hardly ever discussing Win with anyone, since no one in Florida had known her or brought her up, it was almost therapeutic to discuss her so openly and so often. But calling her Callie would always feel off.
Tess came into the kitchen with her jacket on. “Are you getting sleepy yet, Grandma?”
Audrey smiled behind the refrigerator door at Tess’s eagerness to go check on the dogs, but could she be any more transparent? She put the milk in its assigned place, where her mom could find it easily.
“There she is.” Her mom pointed to the chair beside her. “You need to eat your supper. Now sit down.”
Tess cut her eyes up to Audrey. “Um... I’m not hungry?”
“You must eat something or you won’t be allowed to go back outside to play.”
Audrey grabbed a bag of baby carrots before she closed the door and put a few of them on a saucer, which she placed in front of Tess. “Eat your carrots and you can have a cookie.” She pointed to the pill. “You need to take your medicine, Mom.”
“I’ve been asked to play.” Her mom got up and strode to the piano. Within a few seconds the house was filled with Chopin’s Fantaisie-Impromptu.
Audrey’s heart danced to the wild rhythm of the piece. How could her mom’s memory, so ravaged by disease, still allow her fingers to move at such speed with such precision? One of those good things in the world Mark had spoken of, she supposed.
Mark had done a good thing this afternoon. Actually, they had done a good thing together, and since Mom seemed so restless this evening, maybe a walk would do her good. They could check on the dogs. She finished tidying the kitchen while her mom played her heart out and even stood and took a bow when Audrey and Tess applauded at the end.
“How about a walk this evening, Mom?” Audrey suggested.
Tess pumped her fist. “Yes!”
Her mom smiled. “A stroll would be lovely. Ask your father to come along with us, will you?”
Audrey grabbed a couple of sweaters from the closet as Tess grabbed her grandma’s hand and pulled her out the front door. “He’s busy right now,” Tess said, throwing a questioning look Audrey’s way. She nodded, assuring her daughter the pat answer was the right thing.
The sun had dropped low, so they couldn’t stay long or they’d be walking home in the dark. If she had a dollar for every time she and Mark had walked from his place to hers in the dark, she would be a rich woman. And if anybody had told her six months ago she would ever be making this trek again, she would’ve thought they were delusional.
As they walked down Beecher Road, Tess chatted excitedly, filling in her grandma again on all the details about the mother dog and the puppies.
“Oh.” Her mom jerked to a stop and she stared at the enormous weeping willow. Her mouth twisted into a look of horror. “No!” The word was whispered, but the agony behind it sounded loud and clear. The old tree had been a favorite spot for Audrey, Callie and Mark throughout their childhood. No doubt, the sight of it—not a quick pass like in the car, but a slow approach—had shaken loose a memory. “No, no, no, no.” Her mom thrust her fingers into her hair, gripping the roots, and she squeezed her eyes closed as if she couldn’t bear to see.
Audrey managed to get her arm around her mom’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Mom.” She kept her voice calm as much for Tess, whose wide eyes said she was scared, as her mom. “Here, why don’t we walk this way.” Turning her around was like trying to maneuver a statue.
“No, no, no, no.”
Audrey finally got them headed back in the direction of home, but her mother refused to open