Page 2 of Families and Other Enemies

CHAPTER TWO

KELLEN ADAMSDROVEfrom Yearning Sands Resort on Washington’s Pacific Coast down the length of California and across into Nevada. She thought the long drive would give her a chance to think about the new realities of her life.

She was right. The trouble was—the long drive gave her lots of time to think about the new realities of her life.

Her life, her growth, her time of becoming a fully capable human being, had started on the day she walked into an Army recruiting center, her cousin’s identification papers and degrees in hand, and enlisted in the military. There she had become disciplined, strong, brave, displayed a talent for organization. She had handled vehicles and people, and when, six years later, she was given a swift and decisive medical discharge, she went to work as the assistant manager of the sprawling and thriving Yearning Sands Resort. She believed she was equipped to manage any situation, any crisis.

And she was: murder, smuggling, kidnapping, a missing shipment of tiny shampoo bottles—she managed everything, right up to the moment when a seven-year-old girl who bore a remarkable family resemblance hugged her and asked, “Did you know that you’re my mama?”

Kellen hadn’t known what had happened during the year she’d been in a coma. She’d imagined a lot of scenarios, but not this. Never this.

For twelve hundred miles, the scene played and replayed in Kellen’s mind, so when she parked at the Las Vegas memory care facility that housed Aunt Cora, she got out of that car in a hurry.

The memory care facility looked like a nursing home: single story, four wings protruding out from the center, pretty gardens filled with white oleanders and carefully tended lawns. Oh, and locked doors. The staff locked themselves in with the patients.

Kellen Adams walked up to the main entrance and rang the bell. She had called ahead and talked to administration, and prudently omitted the fact she had problems with her own memory. They told her to bring identification to prove she was a relation of Cora Rae Adams.

She had agreed, and at the front desk, the nurse receptionist took her driver’s license. Kellen’s unique mind cataloged him.

NURSE WARREN:

MALE, 30S, CAUCASIAN ANCESTRY, MEDIUM HEIGHT, FIT, THIN AND TANNED. LONG, DEXTEROUS FINGERS. UNICORN EARRINGS. COMFORTING SMILE.

While she signed in with her name and the time, he examined it and announced, “Welcome! Looks like your ID is in order, so here’s your fancy visitor’s badge.” He chuckled at his own joke. The badge was a faded piece of paper the size of a driver’s license, laminated using the pull-apart sheets from the 1990s. It clipped to Kellen’s jeans using a bent paper clip. “You can keep that,” he said. “Just make sure you bring it on your next visit. Now I’ll take you to meet Mrs. Adams’s doctor.”

“Can I see my... Can I see Cora first?”

“That’s not wise. We were frankly relieved to hear from you since we need information about Mrs. Adams, any previous mental problems—”

“None that I know of.”

“—and her family history. You’ll like Dr. Hawkinson. I promise she’s very caring with the patients, and she won’t take much of your time.” He ushered Kellen into the doctor’s office.

DR. HAWKINSON:

FEMALE, 5'10", AFRICAN-AMERICAN, MODEL-LIKE SLENDER, LONG LEGS, BLACK HAIR, BLACK EYES. WHITE COAT, OPEN AT THE FRONT, POCKET CLIPPED FULL OF PENS, SOME OF WHICH MIGHT BE, AND PROBABLY WERE, STUFF LIKE THERMOMETERS AND TINY FLASHLIGHTS. EFFICIENT. UNSMILING.

Dr. Hawkinson sat back down after shaking her hand. “Miss Adams, how much do you know about your mother’s situation? Her condition?”

“Kellen, please.” Kellen didn’t know why she felt it necessary to assure a memory doctor that she knew her own name and wasn’t lying about that. It was sort of like assuring a psychologist she wasn’t crazy. “I know as much about Alzheimer’s as the next person.”

“Your mother has dementia as opposed to Alzheimer’s.” Kellen was sure the questioning look on her face led the doctor to continue. “It means that...”

The next ten minutes were a flurry of medical facts that granted Kellen a breadth of knowledge she didn’t care to have. It was frightening to be reminded that a mind could so brutally betray its owner, even without the benefit of a bullet.

“But let’s specifically speak to Mrs. Adams’s condition,” Dr. Hawkinson said calmly. “Does she have a family history of these types of issues?”

Kellen was quick to answer. “Not that I know of, but she didn’t talk about her family much. I think there was bad blood—my cousin and I never met...my mother’s parents.”

“I see.” Dr. Hawkinson made a note on Cora’s chart, then continued. “She is in the early throes of dementia. At this point, she can remember a good portion of her childhood, and she definitely has moments where she’s clear on things that happened a few years ago, namely her husband’s death. Other days, she has to be reminded he is no longer with us, and as you can imagine, that’s always devastating news.”

Kellen nodded. “Yes, she loved him more than anyone.”

Dr. Hawkinson said, “Hmm,” as if that revealed a lot about Aunt Cora. “She has become increasingly angry and hostile. I want you to be prepared. She can sometimes be pleasant and docile. However, she has the type of personality that does not brook disappointment.”

Kellen couldn’t help herself. She muttered, “Don’t I know it.”

“Yes, she has on occasion vigorously explained her disappointment in you. And why.”

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