When We Were Them (Aron Falls #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Ten months ago…

Delaney

Silence startles me awake. Oh my God, I fell asleep. What have I done?

“Mom?” My call is loud, but I keep my tone as calm as possible so as not to frighten her.

I race through the small house and frantically search for my mother.

“Mom?” This time, fear taints the sound of my voice.

How could I do this? I’ve learned through experience that falling asleep during the day is dangerous.

A hint of relief soothes me a bit when I find the front and back doors closed with the security locks on. My racing pulse settles down some. Except when I get to our breezeway, my lungs tighten, and my heart pounds like it’s trying to escape out of my chest.

The door is open.

I run through it, my hands shaking. I search for Mom outside, moving my head from one direction to another, desperate to find her.

“Mom? Where are you?” Now, I’m shrieking. “Ouch!” Damn rock.

I forgot to put on shoes, but there’s no going back to remedy that. There’s no time to waste in my attempts to locate her.

I scan the immediate area and run through neighbors’ yards searching for her. As the minutes pass by with no sign of her, my anxiety rises.

“Please, God, don’t let her have gone near the pond.”

Tears stream down my face. I glance at my watch to see how long I think I was asleep. It was about half an hour.

Working until four a.m. each night when I need to be up with Mom by eight has caught up with me. How could I be careless enough not only to forget the security lock on the breezeway door, but to allow myself to doze off?

I run to the area where the retention pond is and scour the landscape, relieved when there’s no sign of her here. The fatalist in me taunts that maybe I don’t see her because she’s in the water, and my chest constricts with terror.

No! I refuse to entertain the thought.

I’m not sure which direction to go, but instinct tells me to head toward the path we walk most days to get her evening ice cream.

I run that route and pass Mrs. Nicker’s house.

As usual, she’s out in her flower beds. She’s a blur as I speed past her.

After another fifteen feet, my brain registers that there were two people there, not only Mrs. Nicker.

I stop and turn around. Relief washes over me when I see my mom sitting on a stool in the garden with Mrs. Nicker.

I run over to them, and Mom looks up from the daisies she was peering at. Her eyes widen at my intrusion into her afternoon.

There’s no indication she recognizes me.

A visceral squeezing grips my chest. On the days that Mom doesn’t know who I am, even though I’m aware it’s from the disease, it makes my heart ache. It frightens me, too. These times are happening more often.

I take a deep breath and let it out while I school my expression, so my panic doesn’t show and scare Mom.

“Hi. I’m Delaney. What’s your name?”

I observe her to see if her memory seems sparked, but it doesn’t happen. She confirms this with her actions that follow. She turns her head to look at Mrs. Nicker as if seeking permission to speak to me.

Mrs. Nicker nods at her.

“It’s okay, Hattie. Delaney is a nice young lady. You can talk to her.”

Mrs. Nicker glances at me, and she can’t hide the sympathetic frown she’s wearing.

“Hi, honey. I was just getting ready to bring her back. She’s been here about five minutes, and I figured you would be looking for her.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Nicker.” My voice quivers when I speak, and my hands tremble. I should be relieved that I found my mother. Instead, I’m breaking inside because I’m losing more and more of her every day.

“Hattie, it’s a beautiful day out. Were you just out for a walk, or were you heading some place?” I ask.

Mom’s face lights up.

“Oh, I was going… I was on my way to…” Mom’s brow furrows, and she focuses her gaze upward. She looks like she’s thinking or looking for the answer in the clouds.

“Somewhere…” She bites her lower lip, and I hurt for her when I see she can tell something’s wrong but can’t figure it out. “My garden.”

I smile at her and try to mask my sadness. Mom’s gardens were stunning, and I’ve tried to keep them up, but failed. She doesn’t recognize that this pretty patch of flowers isn’t hers. That’s okay, though. If it pleases her, I’m happy.

“Well, that sounds like a lovely afternoon.”

I sit and stay there for several minutes talking with Mrs. Nicker.

I’m hoping it allows my mother to acclimate to my presence before I attempt to convince her to come home with me.

When Mom gets distracted looking at a pair of bumblebees on the coneflowers, Mrs. Nicker pats my hand that’s resting on my knee.

“Sweetheart, do you have any more help lined up? Isn’t this the third episode this month when your mom has wandered out of the house?”

“It is. I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t qualify for any assistance, and it costs more to hire someone than I can make at work. I feel horrible. My exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep. That’s when she got out. I thought I had everything secure. What kind of daughter does that?”

Mrs. Nicker opens her mouth to speak, but I stand, ready to leave, not to talk more about this.

“Hattie, do you want to take a walk with me? I have some ice cream at my house if you’d like to come visit.”

Mom glances over at Mrs. Nicker, as if she needs assurance that I’m trustworthy.

“You should go with Delaney. She has the best ice cream.”

I smile, bend, and kiss her cheek, then whisper a thank-you. After promising I’ll look into getting more help, my mother and I walk home.

I make a mental note to schedule an appointment with Mom’s neurologist. Her dementia symptoms are rapidly worsening. I didn’t expect her decline to happen so quickly, and I’m not prepared for it.

I’m nearly bankrupt—physically, emotionally, and financially. That’s a problem. Mom never asked me to, but in my heart, I promised her I would take care of her at home. Every day brings more fear that I may fail to keep my vow.