Page 86 of Moonlit Colorado

It was confusing as hell, and I had no idea what to do with it.

Once we were back on the street, I sucked in two lungfuls of city air. Car exhaust, garbage, cigarettes, and cloying perfume from some woman walking by. Radically different from the clean mountain air of Silver Ridge. Yet familiar enough to ground me.

If Kip was having some kind of difficulty, who did he have to blame but himself?

I put my arm back around Grace, where it belonged. “I thought we’d walk through Central Park. Get some food and have a picnic.”

“That sounds great. You can talk about your mom too, if you want.”

I massaged the back of her neck. “I’d much rather show you a good time.”

“Dane—”

I stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk, pulling Grace into the shelter of my arms. Somebody cursed as they had to veer around us, but I didn’t fucking care. “This is what I need right now. To focus on you.” I pressed a kiss to her mouth. “That’s the best thing you can give me.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’d love to see Central Park. With you.”

“Excellent, because I’m sticking to you the rest of today. There’s no getting rid of me. Sorry.”

“You have a strange sense of what’s a privilege and what’s a punishment.”

I laughed, steering us in the direction of the park.

We walked the paths aimlessly for a while. It was a perfect fall day. A bite to the air, but a blue sky and sunny.

“The fall colors are so different here than in Silver Ridge,” she said.

“Which do you like better?”

“Nothing compares to home.”

She was right, but home was a more complicated concept for me.

Grace took pictures of the scenery and sent them to her family and friends in Colorado. I asked someone to take a picture of the two of us, because I hated selfies. Then we got gyros from a cart and I talked Grace into ice cream. “I’m going to gain ten pounds on this trip,” she complained.

“I have a workout planned for us later.”

“Is that a sex reference?”

“Definitely a sex reference.”

She giggled and slid her hand into mine.

While we digested, I picked a shady spot for us to relax beneath a tree. Grace took off her coat, and I hung it on a branch so it wouldn’t get dirty. I spread out my peacoat on the ground for us to lie down. We stared up into yellow-orange leaves.

“Mom has good days and bad days,” I said. “Today, she was a lot like herself. But sometimes she’s scared and angry. I hate that I can’t make it better for her.”

Grace turned onto her side to face me, but she didn’t say anything. Just waiting for me to go on.

I told her about the early symptoms and Mom’s diagnosis. How early-onset Alzheimer’s tended to progress more quickly, which had been true in Mom’s case. None of it was easy for me to talk about. Especially the way that Mom had seemed to lose the spark that had driven her. Basic things became a struggle. Remembering her past. Remembering her family.

“I can’t imagine how hard that must be,” Grace said. “For all of you.”

“You lost your mother.”

“But it happened fast. That was incredibly hard too, but not in the same way. It’s something that’s not fair about grief. So many people go through similar things, yet for each person it feels unique. No one else can ever fully understand.”

I nodded. “My father refuses to talk about it. Refuses to consider relocating her, even though I’m sure Mom would love being near mountains again. She never really liked the city. Only lived here because of him. I’d love to bring her to Silver Ridge. But I can’t imagine Dad agreeing.”

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