Page 13 of Sweet Obsession
Doc scribbled a few things and then slid the paper to his side between him and Sara, pushed to his feet, and halfway to the kitchen door, turned to the older woman grinning at her grandson. “Sara, I don’t want to lose that paper. Would you please fold it in half then set it on my seat? I’ll get it when I come back from inside.”
“You don’t want me to leave it on the table?”
He shook his head. “I might forget it.”
The older woman shrugged, reached for the sheet of paper, folded it carefully in half, pressed the edge neatly, but instead of placing it on the seat as asked, set it on the table where the doc had sat. That much, Blake was positive, was not a good sign.
Stories continued to flow. Preston and Carson, who had joined them for lunch, pushed away from the table in an almost synchronized move. Despite the tension coiling in his gut at this casual lunch that was anything but, Blake couldn’t help but smile at the brothers. All the Sweet boys, now men, were so different and yet, in many ways, so much alike. Their love for the land, their heritage, and each other, topped the list.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” Carson said first.
Preston nodded. “Ditto.” His wife trotting up the back steps, giving her father a kiss on the cheek and then turning to her husband, eyes sparkling, gave him a slower, sweeter peck on the lips. The not so private moment held Blake’s rapt attention. How had all these siblings signed up for a business deal and wound up so in love even a blind man could see it?
“Sorry I’m late.” Sarah Sue stepped away from her husband. “There was a situation with a placement I recently made. Had to unravel that mess.”
“Oh, dear.” Alice Sweet’s face crumpled with concern.
“It’s all fixed now, but it seems to be getting more and more difficult to place dogs right now. Everyone is tightening their belts and their budgets.”
The way Miss Alice sighed, Blake had the feeling this wasn’t the first time the family had held this conversation.
Once all those who had to return to work had left, the conversation shifted to Garrett and his students.
“You’d be amazed how much children struggle now reading a clock face.” Doc casually interjected and everyone knew this was the next test. “We can all draw clocks, but today’s kids, everything is digital.”
Immediately, Ms. Alice retrieved a sheet of paper from the stack she’d brought to the table earlier, and doodled a face clock. “Is this what you mean?”
The doc seemed to study it as if imbedded on the page were the winning lottery numbers. “Exactly.”
“You try it.” Ms. Alice slid a page to her daughter, then to his grandmother. Within minutes, as hoped, Sara Kirby had doodled a clock face, slowly, but accurately. Blake felt a slip of relief,…but not enough.
Lunch had gone much more smoothly than Jillian had expected. Even though she had the utmost confidence in Doc Conroy, she’d still had her doubts that Mrs. Kirby would cooperate so easily. She should never have doubted the doc.
With the family scattered back to their respective work, Mrs. Kirby cheerfully sat in one of the rockers, sharing a long-winded tale with Jillian’s mom about a prize-winning rooster and a lovesick hen. In the meantime, Blake, the doc, and Jillian took advantage of the two women happily laughing and chatting to clear a few plates and empty tea glasses and carried them inside where the doctor could update Blake on his findings.
“Am I crazy?” were the first words Blake spit out before setting the dirty dishes on the counter.
Heaving a deep sigh, Doc shook his head. “I don’t think so. I would have preferred to see her remember all three words on her own without prompting. Combine that with her forgetting the second half of the paper folding instructions, and I’d feel pretty confident in saying that Sara is indeed in the early stages of dementia.”
“Alzheimer’s?” Blake’s gaze had narrowed and his voice had dropped to a near whisper.
Not wanting to intrude on the private conversation, Jillian inched toward the back door.
“No.” Blake grabbed her hand. “Stay. Please.”
Jillian nodded and they both turned to Preston’s father-in-law.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Doc continued. “She’s going to need more tests and even then, it’s pretty much a guess if it’s Alzheimer’s or any other forms of dementia. I’m going to call a friend of mine in Miller’s Creek. He’s a neurologist specializing in memory loss.”
“I want the best.” Blake shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I know son. Dr. Crawford is top in his field and going to Miller’s Creek will be much easier on your grandmother than hauling her all the way to Dallas.”
His lips pressed into a fine line, Blake nodded.
The doc grabbed his little black bag, a throwback to the days when even city doctors made house calls, and nodded at them both. “We’ll see what Dr. Crawford has to say and move forward from there.”
Blake and the doc shook hands. Doc Conroy stuck his neck out the back door to say goodbye, and the kitchen all sorted out, the two of them returned to the porch. Somewhere between gathering up the dirty dishes and saying goodbye to the doc, Jillian’s mom had turned her phone on. Both women tapping the wooden floorboards to the tune of a familiar country song.Across from her, Blake stared off into the distance. She’d give anything to know what he was thinking, and what, if anything, she could do to help.
