CHAPTER TEN
“The castles in the Loire Valley,” Dovie said, closing her eyes as if she were visiting them all over again. “Nessa, I swear I’ve never seen anything more spectacular in my life.”
Nessa agreed. She’d felt the same way on her first trip to France. The summer homes of royalty…well, they were like something out of a fairy tale.
Dovie hadn’t stopped talking about the trip all morning. “We’re going back,” she insisted. “Soon. Next year.”
“Once just isn’t enough, is it?” Nessa asked, wishing she and Leon could have had the opportunity to visit France again before his death.
“I don’t know why Frank and I waited as long as we did, and the antiques…oh, Nessa, it was like walking through the doors of paradise.” She closed her eyes again and smiled ruefully. “I’m making a nuisance of myself, aren’t I?”
“Nonsense.” Nessa enjoyed Dovie’s bubbling enthusiasm and if she wasn’t responding as excitedly as her sister-in-law thought she should…well, there was a good reason. While Dovie was talking, Nessa was trying to find a way to tell her about Gordon’s visit.
“I know how it is when people return from vacation,” Dovie said as she flitted from one end of the store to the other, unable to stay still. “They expect everyone else to feel the same as they did.”
“But I do,” Nessa assured her, and it was true. “I loved going to France. I loved visiting Provence, I loved sitting in a café in Marseilles—they say if you’re there long enough, you’ll see the whole world go by. Most of all, Dovie, I loved walking in Paris.”
Dovie nodded. “Walking along the Seine at dusk, with Frank’s arm around me, hearing music in the background…” Dovie sighed, then shook her head. “Time to get back to the real world. I can’t thank you enough for taking such good care of the shop while I was away.”
“It was my pleasure, Dovie. I mean that.”
“I wish you’d let me pay you.”
Nessa wouldn’t hear of it. She inhaled deeply, her hands tense at her sides. It was now or never. “Actually, while you were away, I met a friend of yours—well, more of a former friend, someone you might even have forgotten—”
The phone rang just then, and Dovie whirled around to reach for it.
Nessa didn’t know who was on the other end, but Dovie spoke excitedly for several minutes. Then she was silent, murmuring occasionally as the other person spoke. “That was Savannah,” she said, hanging up the phone. Her look was pensive, sober.
“Is something wrong?”
Dovie walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of tea. “Want some?” she offered, but Nessa shook her head. Dovie added sugar to her cup, stirring slowly. “I haven’t heard from Mary, not once. I phoned and left a message, but she didn’t return my call, and now Savannah tells me she hasn’t talked to Mary in weeks.”
“Did Mary know when you and Frank were due back?” Nessa asked.
“She knew,” Dovie murmured, clearly hurt that her friend hadn’t called.
“Call her again,” Nessa suggested. It seemed the obvious solution.
“I know I should, but I’m the one who’s always phoning. I’ve asked Mary a hundred times what’s wrong and she insists nothing is. Even Phil seems defensive when I talk to him. Ellie tells me that Cal and Glen have noticed things aren’t right with their parents, too. Frank and I are just baffled. Cal thinks his parents might be getting a divorce, but I doubt that.”
“Still, something isn’t right.” Nessa felt Dovie’s concerns were legitimate.
“Did she drop in while I was away?” Dovie asked next, still stirring her tea, although the sugar had long since dissolved.
“No, come to think of it, she didn’t.” When Nessa had first moved to Promise, Mary had helped find her house, which hadn’t been listed. The couple who’d purchased Ellie’s family home had recently been transferred and were looking for a quick easy sale. Nessa would never have heard about it if not for Mary. They’d known each other casually for a number of years, and Nessa had been delighted to resume their acquaintance. However, in the past few months, the relationship had fallen off. Mary just never seemed to call anyone these days or go anywhere by herself, or even with Phil.
“I’m beginning to think it might be a medical problem,” Dovie said, staring sightlessly into the distance.
“Could be,” Nessa concurred. “Why don’t you ask Phil?”
“I couldn’t do that! If Mary or Phil wants to tell me, well, that’s one thing. But since they prefer to pretend nothing’s wrong, what can I do?”
“I don’t know how to advise you,” Nessa told her sister-in-law. “I just don’t know.”
Nessa left the shop midmorning and spent the rest of the day berating herself for being a sneak. She wished desperately that she’d mentioned Gordon’s visit when Dovie had phoned from New York. Because she hadn’t, the entire episode had taken on gigantic proportions in her mind. Before Savannah’s call, she’d mentioned meeting Gordon and managed to get out everything but his name—the most important part. And after the call, they’d been caught up in the situation with Mary and there really hadn’t been the opportunity to talk about anything else.
By the afternoon, Nessa had reasoned it out and was content once again. Dovie was happily married; she wouldn’t care if Nessa and Gordon were friends. And since it made no difference one way or the other, Nessa saw no urgent reason to tell Dovie immediately. Or so she convinced herself.
That evening, when Gordon’s call came precisely at seven, Nessa settled in her favorite chair. They talked for a few minutes the way they always did at the beginning of a conversation. Gordon would tell her a little something about his day, then ask about hers.
“Dovie’s back.” She mentioned this in an offhand tone, awaiting his response. Even after talking to him every night, getting to know him, sharing her life and thoughts with him in lengthy conversations, Nessa wondered what he’d say, how he’d react.
“I suspected as much when you said you wouldn’t be working at the store any longer.”
“She had a wonderful time.”
“I imagine so. My first trip to Europe was special, too.” He went on to tell her about the months he’d spent in Germany and Italy, and soon the conversation flowed as it always did with them. Soon they were laughing, sharing impressions, exchanging experiences.
“I didn’t tell Dovie about you.” Her admission came reluctantly. Nessa felt she should tell Gordon what she’d done—or rather, what she hadn’t done. “I know it’s silly, and I can’t even explain why I didn’t.”
Gordon went silent and Nessa’s heart raced fearfully for a moment. Then he laughed. Amusement was the last response she’d anticipated.
“You find this funny?”
“No, not funny. It’s just that you and I are more alike than I realized. I didn’t mention meeting you to Miles, either. The fact is, he knows nothing about my visit to Promise.”
“Oh, and I didn’t say a word to Sylvia, either.” Nessa laughed, too. “What’s wrong with us?” she asked, feeling considerably better in light of Gordon’s confession.
“Nothing’s wrong with us,” he replied. “We have a right to our privacy.”
Nessa wasn’t entirely sure she agreed. Certainly Sylvia wouldn’t. And Dovie?
“Once when I was a kid I found a beautiful rock,” Gordon said slowly. “At least I thought it was beautiful. It glittered blue and green and gold. I put my rock in a cigar box my grandfather had given me and I didn’t tell anyone about it. I knew everyone would ooh and aah when they saw this treasure, and I’d be the envy of all my friends, but still I didn’t tell.”
Nessa closed her eyes and listened, feeling like a child who’d happened on a treasure herself.
“Even now, I can’t explain why I didn’t brag about that rock to my friends. If I had to make a guess, I’d say that in my five-year-old mind, I’d decided I wanted to keep something so wonderful to myself.”
“You were afraid that anyone else who saw it might try to diminish its beauty,” Nessa said quietly.
“Yes, that, too,” Gordon concurred.
“I think that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to tell Dovie.” It made perfect sense now. It was the same reason she hadn’t told Sylvia or her sons that she’d met someone. She didn’t want to hear their comments or speculation, didn’t want to answer their questions. She didn’t want them to make this ordinary.
“By nature I’m not an impulsive man. I don’t know what came over me the day I reached Dovie’s answering machine and drove to Promise, anyway. But whatever it was, I’m grateful.”
“I am, too,” Nessa murmured. She hesitated. “Are we being a pair of old fools, Gordon?”
“Perhaps, but if the way I feel about you is considered foolish, then fine—I’ll be foolish. I haven’t felt this alive in years.”
“Me, neither.”
“You mentioned that big dance next week.”
“Yes.” She’d told him a great deal about the community and the people of Promise.
“I never was much of a dancer. Oh, I can manage my way across a dance floor, but I’m no Fred Astaire. And yet…”
“Yes?”
“Last night as I drifted off to sleep, all I could think about was dancing with you. Holding you in my arms.”
“Oh, Gordon.”
“Maybe I should come back to Promise.”
“For the dance?” Nessa’s heart surged with excitement. “Could you? Would you?”
“When exactly is it?”
She told him and heard his sigh of regret.
“I’d be there if I could,” he told her. “Unfortunately we’ll have to do it another time.”
* * *
Jane Patterson sat in her rocking chair counting stitches on her knitting needle when Cal walked into the room. Her ankles had swollen with the pregnancy and she’d propped them up on the ottoman.
Cal waited patiently until she’d finished. “That was Glen on the phone. He and Ellie are coming over.”
“Tonight?” It was unusual for Cal’s brother to make a social visit, especially on a midweek evening, since he was at the ranch every day. Because Ellie owned the local feed store, they lived in town and Glen commuted to the ranch, which was the arrangement that made the most sense for them. The two couples saw each other fairly often, but for the most part, Jane and Cal drove into town, instead of the other way around.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. Cal had been restless and short-tempered for weeks now, worrying about his parents. She understood his concern, yet wasn’t sure how she could help. She’d been giving it some thought, though. Maybe she could get in touch with a geriatric specialist she knew in California….
“Glen and I’ve been talking,” Cal said.
“You talk every day.”
“About Mom and Dad, I mean.”
Jane set her knitting aside. Savannah had recently taught her to knit, and she’d finished her first project a week earlier—a lovely yellow baby blanket. Now she was moving on to booties and a sweater.
“Did you notice anything different about Mom last Sunday?” Cal asked. It was a question he asked with increasing frequency. “You’re a doctor, you should be able to tell when someone’s ill.”
Jane had noticed a number of things about her mother-in-law and she had her suspicions. But she couldn’t give a medical diagnosis unless Mary took the proper tests. Nor did she feel comfortable sharing her suspicions.
“Your mom looked healthy,” she said, hoping that would reassure him.
“But not happy,” Cal added, frowning.
“She did make an effort,” Jane reminded him.
“My dad made an effort, too, and everyone could see it was an effort.”
“Cal,” she said, trying to calm him, “let’s not jump to conclusions here. We need more evidence before we—”
“These are my parents, Jane, and I’ll tell you right now, I don’t appreciate your attitude.”
“My attitude? What—”
“You think I’m overreacting.”
His accusation stung. “Have I said that?”
“No, but I can tell what you’re thinking.”
Jane got awkwardly to her feet. “I don’t know when you became a mind reader. You must’ve missed your calling in life, Cal Patterson. It just so happens I’m worried about your parents, too!”
“You certainly have an odd way of showing it.”
Jane pinched her lips, refusing to continue the argument. “This isn’t helpful, Cal.” She walked out of the room.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“To make coffee.”
“These are my parents, Jane,” he said again, following her into the kitchen. “How would you feel if this was happening to your mom and dad?”
“What’s happening?” she cried. No one had had any real proof of anything. Cal and Glen had been talking, working themselves into a frenzy of worry, making illogical assumptions. They’d dragged Dovie into it, too. For the past week her husband had talked more with his mother’s friend than he had with her, his own wife.
“You know something’s wrong.” He paused and stared at her. “You know something and you’re not telling me.”
“Cal, I know nothing.” Not for certain, and she wasn’t about to heap additional worry on his already burdened shoulders.
“You’re a doctor,” he said again.
“That doesn’t make me a magician.”
Her husband dragged out a kitchen chair and sat down at the table. Taking several deep breaths, Cal closed his eyes. “It seems as if I’m the one looking after my parents now.” He shook his head. “Or trying to.”
“Your mom and dad are getting older. This is what sometimes happens—a kind of role reversal.”
“Mom’s depressed.”
Jane walked over and placed her hand on Cal’s shoulder. “I think you’re right. Your father seems depressed, too. But it’s not an uncommon side effect of aging.”
“It’s more complicated than the two of them not getting along.”
“I suspect so.”
A vehicle could be heard pulling into the yard. “I don’t know what to do to help them,” Cal whispered. “That’s what’s so frustrating.”
“I know.”
Soon Ellie and Glen joined them in the kitchen. Johnny was home with a sitter, which told Jane the conversation was a serious one.
Once Jane had poured coffee and passed around a plate of Dovie’s cookies, they all sat at the kitchen table.
“Dad told me today that he and Mom won’t be attending the Cattlemen’s Dance this year,” Glen said.
Cal nodded. “I don’t know why that surprises you. Mom and Dad have avoided all social functions for at least six months. Can anyone remember the last time they went out with their friends?”
“Dovie says Mom barely talks to her anymore,” Ellie supplied.
“Tell them what happened earlier this morning,” Glen urged his wife.
Ellie stared down at her coffee. “Mom and Dad came into the feed store to pick up some fertilizer for the garden, and Dad was chatting with Lloyd Bonney about something or other. While Phil was busy, I was talking to Mom about Glen’s birthday, which is next week.”
“She didn’t remember the date,” Glen cut in. “She actually had no clue what time of year I was born.”
“Mom hasn’t been herself in months,” Cal said. “She’s depressed, forgetful, sometimes disoriented. This is more than the normal aging process, isn’t it?”
All three looked at Jane. “I couldn’t possibly answer that without giving her a full medical exam and arranging for some tests.” She couldn’t say the dreaded word—Alzheimer’s. Not yet.
“Even if you did know, you wouldn’t say,” Cal muttered accusingly.
Jane disregarded the pain she felt at his anger and refused to answer such a loaded question. There was nothing she could do unless Mary submitted voluntarily to those tests.
* * *
The following afternoon Jane left the clinic and made an unexpected visit to her in-laws. Phil answered the door, but didn’t show any pleasure at seeing her. He stood in the doorway, blocking her entry into the house.
“Do you have a few minutes?” she asked, surprised when he didn’t step aside or invite her in.
“Actually, I was just leaving.”
“I’d love to visit with Mary,” Jane said.
“She’s coming with me.”
Jane hesitated, then walked over and sat down in one of the big wicker chairs positioned on the veranda. She gazed out at the town park for a moment, with its stately oaks and lush green foliage.
“Is she that bad?” Jane asked softly.
Phil tensed, then walked over to the porch railing, his back toward her.
“Don’t insult my intelligence by telling me I’m imagining things,” she said. She’d suspected for several months that Mary’s problems were related to the onset of Alzheimer’s disease.
Phil was quiet so long she wasn’t sure he was going to speak. “How did you know?” he finally asked.
“I’ve wondered for a while. Wasn’t it a year ago that Mary hurried out of church, positive she’d left the freezer door open?”
“About then.”
“And it wasn’t open, was it? I remember everyone laughed about it.”
Phil nodded miserably.
“The last time I saw her by myself, she couldn’t recall the phone number to the ranch.”
“We had that phone number for nearly thirty-five years.” The sadness in his voice was enough to break Jane’s heart.
“There’ve been changes in her personality,” Jane said. “Small ones at first.” Mary had always possessed a sharp wit, one Jane had admired. These days, Mary was vague and she often wore a confused look. A number of times Jane had been certain that it took her mother-in-law a moment to place her, to remember that she was Cal’s wife.
“So you’ve noticed the difference in her personality, too?”
“I’m afraid so, Phil.”
“If you have, then so have others,” he mumbled.
“You can’t protect her forever.”
“I know.” He turned around and sat in the wicker chair next to Jane, then buried his face in his hands. “The other day she got dressed and forgot to put on her brassiere. When I told her, she got so embarrassed and upset, I didn’t know what to do.”
“You’re doing the housework and cooking?”
He nodded. “At first she couldn’t remember the recipes she’s made for years. She’d leave out an ingredient or two, and we’d laugh it off. Then she damn near burned the house down, leaving a pot on a burner.”
“There are medications that can help.”
“I know all that. I’m looking into it, doing everything I can.”
Jane didn’t want Phil to think she was being critical. “Is she under a doctor’s care?”
“Dr. John Curtis in San Antonio. We made our first visit two months ago.”
Jane had heard the name and knew he was a respected physician who specialized in geriatric care, especially with Alzheimer’s patients. “How long do you intend to keep this from Cal and Glen?” she asked, wanting him to realize what the situation—and his secrecy—was doing to his family. His sons had a right to know, and it wasn’t her place to tell them.
“I’ll talk to them soon.”
Jane patted his hand gently. The stress had taken its toll on Phil—that much was obvious. He’d lost weight and the shadows beneath his eyes were testament to his ordeal. “Please, Phil. They deserve the truth about their mother,” she urged. “And once they know, they can help her—and you.”
“I know I should have told them before.”
Jane agreed with a nod but didn’t judge him. It was his love for Mary that had made Phil hide her illness.
“Promise me you’ll let me be the one to tell Cal and Glen, in my own time and my own way.”
Jane hesitated.
“Promise me,” he pressed. “Mary is the mother of my sons. I should be the one to tell them.”
“I agree with you, and I promise,” Jane said. She just hoped he’d talk to them within the next few days. She would keep Phil’s secret and pray that Cal never learned how much she knew.