Page 101 of Delay of Game
Friday: You took a trip into town today to go shopping at Colonial Mills Plaza. You bought three cookies to bring back to your room.
Thursday: Played Bingo in the community room and ate dinner with Dot.
Wednesday: Jimmy brought you croissants from Tony’s bakery. You ate with him in the sunroom.
Tuesday: It was a big day! You taught Jimmy how to play Bunco in the garden. Ate lunch with the Ladies Who Lunch Club and then watched Encanto after dinner.
I sucked in a breath, turning back to the week before.
Tuesday: You had a hard time sleeping and asked for Jimmy. We gave him a call and He visited the next morning. You both watched Matlock all morning.
My heart pounded in my chest. I flipped back another page, nearly ripping the sheet.
Wednesday: Jimmy brought June’s for lunch, and you ate together in the dining room with Dot.
With trembling fingers, I picked up the book, convinced there was some mistake. Jimmy didn’t visit Aunt Mercy. Certainly not every week.
Clutching the book to my chest, I raced down the halls, past the cafeteria with a distracted wave to my family on the way to the front desk. A resident leaned over the front desk, muttering in a low hum at Brenda. I waited until he shuffled away before I placed the book on the desk.
“Jimmy,” I said, opening the book and pointing to an entry three weeks ago.
Her face broke into a smile as she leaned forward to read the entry. “Oh, honey, that boy. He’s a charmer. He catered lunch for the entire staff that day and then made sure the night shift had a meal, too.”
I shook my head. “No, that can’t be right. Jimmy lives at a retirement home in Miami. He hasn’t seen Aunt Mercy in years, decades maybe.”
Brenda’s smile fell away and confusion took its place. “Oh. I didn’t even know there was a real Jimmy. That’s just what Ms. Mercy calls him.”
“What she calls who?” I filled the blanks in myself, but I wanted to hear it from her lips.
“Rob, honey. Rob Grant. That football player you brought in here.”
“He visits?” Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit them back.
“Every week, sometimes twice a week.” She frowned, concerned at my reaction. “You put him on the visitor’s list the first time he came with you. We thought you knew. I can take him off?—”
“No,” I interrupted, a little too loud. “No, don’t do that. Although he’s probably stopped coming already.”
“No,” she metered out the word as she stood up, flipping to this week’s entries. “He was here Tuesday and yesterday. Same as every other week.”
“Really?” A tear slipped down my face and I rubbed it away with the back of my hand. “He still visited?”
“Is something wrong, Ms. Evans?”
I shook my head, collecting the book. “No. Nothing at all. I just…he didn’t tell me.”
“Hmph,” Brenda sighed and crossed her arms with a smile. “It’s those strong, silent types that’ll get you, huh?”
I nodded, retracing my steps back to Aunt Mercy’s room and returning the book. I slipped my phone out of my pocket. Rob’s last text stared back, but my reply wouldn’t fit in a single text. Or a dozen.
I called Gloria, instead.
THIRTY-SIX
ROB
My headlights shoneas I pulled into my driveway, spotting a figure on the front porch. My breath caught in my throat as I eased my car down the driveway, hope growing in my gut but readying myself for disappointment.
Astrid.
