Page 52 of To Belong Together
Mom followed her lead, and the conversation turned to inconsequential topics as they finished their meal.
After they cleaned up, Mom turned down her offer of ice cream. “Your father will be waiting.” She pulled on her camel-colored wool coat and slid the red purse coordinated to match her silk scarf onto her shoulder.
Always so ladylike, her mother.
Erin had inherited none of her graces. She stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Maybe it’s time to get help. You can’t always be with him.”
“Hire someone?”
“I’ll help if you’ll let me, but I think you might need more than that. He’s …” She choked, unable to voice the wordspretty far gone.
“I ordered one of those trackers. It should come soon. It sends alerts if he falls or wanders, and there’s an app we can both install to see where he is.”
The tracker would lend peace of mind, but was the device the right solution? Or was Mom muscling through when she ought to admit to needing more help?
“I can see the wheels turning, but none of that. You’re not supposed to try and fix this, remember?”
“I just want what’s best for you. Both of you.”
“Me too.” Mom gave her a light hug and left.
Erin chewed her lip. Mom had come to dinner and agreed Erin could spend more time with Dad. Those were victories, but their losses—Dad, mostly, and his ability to bring them together—hung in the air more heavily than the scent of garlic.
A soft knock sounded. Before she gathered the sense to turn the knob, the door slid open.
Her mother stood on the step, one hand clutching the strap of her purse, the other gripping her coat closed. “You might as well know we’re losing the house.”
“What?”
“Your father always handled the money. He made some costly mistakes before I realized his mind was starting to go, and …” Her voice had risen with the strain. She cleared her throat. “With neither of us working, and the delay in getting disability, and … We couldn’t keep up.” Tears welling, Mom turned away.
“Mom.”
Head down, she hurried to the car, unlocked it, and drove away.
John woketo a bang that rocketed the dogs into high alert. Through his disorientation, he found the clock—2:35 a.m. Waking so suddenly to so much noise tensed his muscles and turned his stomach.
Was someone trying to break in? No security system alerts displayed on his phone.
Skull pounding, he edged around the barking dogs. “Quiet.”
In their moment of obedience, he heard Tim talking somewhere in the house.
John slipped from his room, closing the dogs in behind him. When he reached the kitchen, he found Tim struggling to right a dining chair. He caught his foot on the chair leg and stumbled sideways. With all this racket, it was a wonder Issy hadn’t appeared yet.
“What’s the deal?”
Tim blinked. “Sorry. I’m getting water.”
The man smelled like a sponge soaked in whiskey. Funny, John had only seen the meat, vegetables, and deli containers when Tim had returned from the store. He must’ve gone out of his way to hide the alcohol. “This is why you went shopping?”
“You wouldn’t get it.” Tim swayed.
No, probably not. This conversation would have to wait for morning.
He grabbed his manager’s arm with his good hand and helped him to bed.
17
