Page 70 of Ryder's War

Ven made short order of the next door, but the room was totally barren. They weren’t so lucky with the next room. As soon as the door cracked open, they could smell the faint scent of death. It smelled like a funeral parlor.

Stepping into the room, Tiffany realized exactly why. It was an older woman’s bedroom. The floor had been covered with plush carpeting and a huge oriental rug. Books filled two massive shelves, and there were old-fashioned knickknack sitting about, and a chess set on a nearby table for two.

A huge bed ate up the largest share of the space. It had nightstands on each side and lamps with pretty shades. Luxurious bedding covered the body of an older woman who was wearing a lovely gown and had her hair brushed lovingly back out of her face, with long locks of silver haircurling around her shoulders. If not for the gray color of her skin, she could have been mistaken for sleeping.

“It’s Suzie Que.” Sarah’s voice was almost a whisper from the back of the room. “She was Old Man Chamberlin’s first wife. We all thought she died in a boating accident.”

A sound came from the doorway. Stuart strolled in, shocking everyone and murmuring as he passed, “It was nice of you folks to drop by for a visit.” Stuart's voice carried an eerie normalcy that made the scene more disturbing. “Momma loves company.” His casual tone turned the grim tableau into something out of a nightmare.

Sitting on the side of the bed, he picked up a small brush from the nightstand and ran it gently through a lock of her hair. “Wake up, Momma. You have visitors. I told you my Tiffany would come back to me.”

Ryder whispered in her ear, “Shit, the dude’s really lost it.”

“I can hear you, Mister Staunton,” Stuart said over his shoulder. “Momma does not like cursing, so keep a civil tongue if you want to stay and visit.”

Tiffany’s hand flew to her mouth to smother a strangled sound. She’d always known something strange was going on with Stuart. Somehow, she never expected it was this. How long had this been going on? Her mind literally couldn’t process what she was seeing. Her knees wentweak, and Ryder wrapped one arm around her to help steady her.

Clearly, no one knew what to say. Finally, timid Sarah stepped forward. Putting a hand on Stuart’s shoulder, she asked, “How long has Miss Suzie been sick?”

“My father tried to get rid of her in that boating accident, but I wouldn’t allow that to happen,” Stuart monotoned. “I pulled her out of the water and took her to a safe place. Only she didn’t do so well after that. No matter what the doctors did for her, she just kept getting sadder. The doctors wanted to put her in a home, but I learned how to take care of her. Sometimes, she talks like it’s old times, and sometimes she just ignores me. She’s been ignoring me for days now, and I can’t get her to eat a thing.”

Sarah spoke kindly like a mother would. “You did real good by your mother, Stuart. She’s real proud of you, but you have to let her go now. You do know that, don’t you?”

Pulling the blankets up around her, he murmured despondently, “Maybe tomorrow.”

Tiffany stepped forward. Grabbing his hand, she hauled him to his feet. “Not tomorrow, Stuart. You’re going to let go today.”

“I can’t, Tiff,” he said sadly.

“Why not?”

“The undertakers will drain her blood and cram her in a metal box. I can’t let them do that.”

Recovering from the shock of hearing that, Tiffany felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Hauling in a much-needed breath, she suggested, “I think we should bury her under the huge oak tree behind your house. We’ll keep her in the nice nightgown she loved so much and wrapped in her bed clothes, so she’ll be nice and comfortable. How does that sound?”

Looking down at her, Stuart teared up. “You’re not coming back to me, are you?”

“No, Stuart,” Tiffany admitted with a shake of her head, “I’m not. I promise to take you somewhere safe where you can rest and get the help you need to get over your mother’s death.”

“Death?” he said, his voice rising. “She’s not dead. She’s just sleeping, Tiff. Saay it. Say it now!”

It was obvious he was a scant inch from losing it. Reaching out to touch his arm, she intoned, “You’re right, she’s only sleeping. I don’t know why I said that.”

As if speaking to himself, Stuart returned his gaze to his mother and mumbled, “She’ll have a nice long sleep, and then wake up in heaven.”

On some level, he must have understood she was dead. He just wasn’t ready to accept it.

“Come on upstairs,” Tiffany suggested. “I’ll make you a nice coffee, just the way you like.”

Ryder chimed in quietly, “I say we give him a nice little dirt nap as well, ‘cause this is all kinds of crazy.”

Shooting him an annoyed look, Tiffany said sternly, “We are not giving my friend a dirt nap.”

Ryder shot back, “So he’s your friend now that we discovered how crazy the dude really is?”

Ignoring his jibe, Tiffany pointed to the door. “Get with the program. If everyone thinks she’s dead, his father has already collected the insurance money. When the police start crawling all over this, they’re going to interrogate the man who has been moving heaven and earth to take care of her. Look at the man,” she snapped, pointing at Stuart whose hinges were clearly coming unglued. “Does he look like he’s in any condition to get into all that with them?”

Ryder was clearly not on board with helping her ex whatsoever. “Since when are we caring about that?”

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