Thirteen
Trinity
T he last week and a half have been nonstop, but I’ve eked out a bit of a routine. I work most of the day from Mom’s hospital room and spend my nights with Greyson. Today, however, we’re moving Mom to Lakeview Assisted Living. In the end, it was indeed the best option. I feel a little silly about the way I reacted initially, but I needed to see for myself what the choices were for Mom. And I wanted to make an informed decision. But after lots of web surfing and calls, and even another visit, it turns out there weren’t that many places with anything open, and none of them was as nice as Lakeview.
I dodge around the work crap I’ve spread out on my mother’s living room floor, looking for where I put my keys. My Zoom meeting ran long, and now, I have to hustle if I want to be there when they release her from the hospital.
In the middle of all of this, my phone rings, but I have to smile when I see my best friend’s silly face on the screen.
“Girlfriend!” Liz’s voice crackles through the phone when I answer.
My heart lifts at the sound. “Liz? I miss you like crazy,” I tell her, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I lift a pizza box to find where my keys are hidden. I slip them into my pocket and head out the door to the car.
“Good! Because I’m driving over for the weekend, as long as you’re okay with it.”
“Yes, please come. I could use the company. And honestly, I think I need someone to help me figure out…all of this.”
“All of what?” Liz presses.
I hesitate, focused on the elevator buttons as I descend to the parking garage. “Everything. Mom, work…me.”
“Sounds like I’ll need to bring wine,” Liz quips, but her voice softens. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”
I step out into the garage and head for the car. “Thanks. Mom has moved on to the rehab portion of her recovery. They kept her in the hospital longer because her heart started doing funny things and they were worried, but they decided it was the meds and adjusted those. Today, she’s moving to a temporary living arrangement where she can continue to get stronger.”
“I can’t wait to see her. We’ll have a great time. We’re single and ready to mingle, right?” I can almost see her flirty wink through the phone.
“Well, not so single, but I’ll give you all the details over drinks here at my mom’s.” I pull out of the garage and start my trip to the hospital.
“Interesting…” she notes. “Either way, I need a change of scenery. How’s the weather? Should I bring my bikini?”
“It’s hot. Very hot. Definitely bring it,” I respond with a laugh. “Mom’s condo has a killer pool. We’ll make the most of it.”
“Consider it packed,” Liz says. “I’ll swing by your place on my way. I can pick up anything you need. ”
“Would you?” Gratitude washes over me. “There are a few things I left behind in my rush.” I hesitate, biting my lip before I add the detail that I don’t know when I’ll be returning. “I’ll send you a list, if that works for you.”
“Of course. I’ll bring whatever. Is everything okay?” Liz asks, her tone shifting from playful to concern in an instant. “If you’re not single, what have you gotten yourself into?”
“Remember me telling you about the hot doctor from the MedTalks conference?”
“No way…” she breathes.
“He was Mom’s first doctor, and he lives in her building.”
“No flippin’ way! It’s kismet. And here you thought you’d never see him again.”
“I have to tell you, he’s making it really hard not to fall for him.” I sigh. “But he lives here, and I live in Vancouver, so we’ve set some rules. We’ll just go on the occasional date and have incredibly hot sex until I return home.”
“Wow…” I can almost hear the smirk in her words. “When do I get to meet Dr. Dreamy?”
“I’m sure you can probably meet him when you’re here. When will you arrive?”
“I can leave work tomorrow at noon, so I’ll be there for happy hour.”
“That sounds great. Thank you. Things with Mom are… Well, it’s a lot right now.”
“Say no more. You just focus on your mom, and I’ll take care of you— Well, Dr. Dreamy can take care of you in that way. I’ll do the rest.”
I laugh, so happy to know Liz is coming. “Thank you, and I’ll send you a list,” I promise. “See you soon.”
“See you tomorrow, babe,” she replies before hanging up, leaving me to face the day ahead with a touch more hope than before.
I park my car in the hospital parking lot and head to Mom’s room. One of the nurses stops me. “Thank you for the cookie bouquet.”
I smile. “Of course. My mom and I really appreciate all the work you did while she was here.”
I enter Mom’s room and give her a hug, but she’s stiff and nervous. “What’s wrong?”
“Ellen, where is George? He said he’d be here to pick me up.”
Every time she calls me Ellen, a little bit of me dies inside. “He’s not coming. You’re going to get to ride in an ambulance over to the rehab center.”
“I feel great. I don’t need rehab.”
“You look great,” I lie. “And once you pass a few tests, they’re going to send you right home with me.”
She nods and seems to accept that, so I sit down in the chair. We can’t leave until Dr. Chappell discharges her. It’s nearly ten, and most days he’s come by about now. Where is he?
After a few minutes, unable to sit, I pace the sterile, white corridor of the hospital. The morning drags by with the slow tick of the clock, and I alternate walking with standing watch at my mother’s bedside, murmuring assurances that soon we’ll be on our way to Lakeview. Her hands tremble, fingers grasping at the sheets restlessly.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Mom,” I whisper, though a part of me trembles with doubt.
Eventually, we get some lunch, which distracts her for a while, but it’s late afternoon before Dr. Chappell eventually saunters in, laptop in hand, to explain the discharge process. He assures us that the ambulance transport is for Mom’s safety, but the word ambulance seems to jolt her already frayed nerves.
As the paramedics wheel her out, she clutches my arm, her voice quivering. “Ellen? Why isn’t George here?” Her gaze is pleading, lost in a time that no longer exists. My heart clenches.
“Mom,” I soothe, stroking her hair, “Dad’s watching over us, remember? But I’m here, I’ve got you.”
But then her agitation spikes anew, her thoughts tumbling into deeper confusion. “George must be so worried. He needs to know where I am. He’ll be looking for me.”
“Shh, it’s okay.” I kneel beside her wheelchair, trying to be the anchor in her stormy sea of memories. “I’ll call George. I promise he’ll know exactly where to find you.”
Relief softens her features momentarily, but the paramedics are motioning me aside now. “We should get going,” one of them says, his eyes kind behind the glasses perched on his nose.
“Of course.” I nod, gathering my resolve like armor.
They pull the wheelchair up to the ambulance, and Mom tries to undo the seat belt. “I need to go home,” she insists.
“Mom, remember, Dr. Chappell wants you to go to rehab.”
“I’m no junkie.” She starts screaming for help.
I reach for her hand and hold it to me. “It’s okay, Mom. I’m going with you.”
She quiets, though her eyes remain wide.
“Can you ride with us?” the driver asks.
I look back at the parking lot where my car is sitting and figure I can grab a rideshare back later. “Sure.”
They roll her into the ambulance and being there, right beside her, seems critical now. So I climb in, taking a seat next to her, reaching again for her hand.
“See, Mom? We’re going together. You’re not alone.” I force a smile while my insides churn with anxiety. And as the vehicle lurches forward, leaving the hospital behind, I can’t help but feel as if I’m leaving a piece of myself with it, the part that believed everything could be neatly planned and controlled.
The ambulance jolts over a bump, and Mom’s hand tightens around mine, her knuckles bone-white. Her eyes dart around the small space, confusion clouding her features. “I need to…” Her voice trails off, the thought slipping through her grasp.
“Mom, stay still, please.” My tone is calm, but my chest tightens .
She settles back, her hand still clutching mine. The ride feels endless, each bump a reminder of how little control I have right now. I tighten my grip around her arm, protecting her from a dangerous tumble. The paramedics are focused on the road, trusting me to manage the situation in the back.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, a call to a reality I can’t fully face right now. I glance at the screen—messages from work, though my boss knows today is about moving Mom. We spoke this morning to discuss implementation of the next plug-in for the electronic medical records system tonight, but I thought I’d be done before this. Probably he did too. Still, I swipe the notifications away. They can wait. Everything must wait.
Lakeview looms ahead. As we pull up, Frankie greets us at the door.
“Trinity, I’ve reached out to Dr. Greyson,” she says, pulling me aside while the paramedics wheel Mom through the entrance.
My heart skips a beat.
Frankie reaches for me. “It’s normal for memory-care patients to be very agitated when they’re moved. Greyson will talk to her, and hopefully he can put her at ease.”
“Of course. Thank you,” I manage, still adjusting to this overlap of worlds.
Greyson arrives shortly thereafter with his doctor’s coat billowing behind him like a cape. He’s the epitome of confidence. He gives me a wink, but strides right past and over to Mom. With a warm smile, he asks, “Joy, how are you holding up?”
“Better now that you’re here,” Mom replies, a flirtatious lilt in her voice.
I wish I could disappear into the floor. I wasn’t prepared for this—my mother fawning over the man I’m seeing.
“Always glad to help,” Greyson responds, grinning broadly, and when his gaze shifts to mine, there’s mischief dancing in his eyes, a Cheshire cat teasing its prey.
He escorts Mom to her new room, reassuring her at every turn. She bats her eyelashes at him, and I have to clamp down on the eye roll threatening to surface. Still, even I have to admit he’s impressive. This man who deftly balances charm and professionalism is the one who’s shared whispered promises in the dark with me.
“Isn’t he just wonderful?” Mom sighs, watching as he ensures her comfort, utterly oblivious to the complicated web of emotions tangling inside me. “And he’s hot, too.”
“Yep, he’s…something,” I agree, unsure whether I’m more annoyed with his effect on her or the fact that I’m affected at all.
Greyson prepares a dose of sedative for Mom and administers it expertly, somehow avoiding any of the panic needles can create for her. Within moments, her eyelids flutter to rest.
“Will you be bringing Trinity to the wedding?” Frankie’s voice cuts through the tender scene like a poorly timed cue. She stands at the doorway, her gaze flitting between Greyson and me.
I stiffen, feeling the color rise in my cheeks. “Oh, we’re not together,” I blurt, leaving no room for misinterpretation—or so I think.
Greyson turns to look at me, a flicker of something passing over his face. Hurt? Disappointment? It’s gone before I can decipher it, and he covers with a nonchalant shrug. “We’ll work on that,” he says, his tone light.
Frankie nods, undeterred. “I hope you’ll come.”
“Sure,” I murmur, though I’m not sure of anything at all.
Seizing the opportunity to escape, I excuse myself and step out into the hallway. My phone buzzes in my pocket again, flashing a notification from my boss. My heart sinks as I realize this is likely yet another fire I have to put out.
“Hey, Andy,” I say in greeting.
His voice comes through, apologetic. “I know you’re busy with your mom’s new location—”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I interrupt. “This took much longer than I thought. Is there a problem with the rollout tonight?”
“I don’t think so,” he says. “I just had a quick question from IT that I wanted to run by you.” He explains some technical issue with the operating system on our servers, but fortunately, it should all be fine.
“Tell them they shouldn’t have to worry about that. It’s solid,” I assure him. “I know the migration is nerve-wracking, but this is going to be great. We’ve got the safeguards in place, and it should cut down on prescription shopping.”
“Good, good,” he murmurs, his relief palpable. “I knew you had it covered. Okay, well, I won’t keep you. I appreciate all you’re doing, and we’ll look forward to having you back. But no pressure,” he adds quickly. “You’ve been great about being available and getting your work done.”
I press my lips together, a knot forming in my stomach. “Thanks, Andy. I’m not sure yet on the timing,” I admit. “The move hasn’t gone so smoothly. I need to be sure Mom’s settled and determine the next steps for her care. I might be here a while.”
“Of course. Keep me posted,” he says kindly. “We’re behind you. I hope your mother improves.”
“Thank you,” I whisper before ending the call.
Leaning against the cool wall, I take a moment to breathe. I’m not sure what I expected from today, but it wasn’t this. The reality is that Mom may never come back to us—not mentally at least. And I, bound by love and duty, might just be anchoring myself to Paradise indefinitely.
The door to my mother’s room clicks shut behind Greyson, and he turns to face me as he steps into the hallway. “The sedative has set in,” he says. “Your mom will sleep through the night, and staff will be on hand for when she wakes up disoriented.”
The weight in my chest grows heavier as I blink back tears. “Do you think…she’ll get more of her memory back?” The words tremble as they leave my lips .
Greyson sighs. “The brain is complicated,” he admits, and my heart sinks. “But right now, it’s just about giving her some time.”
“Thanks,” I murmur. “Can you drop me at the hospital? I need to pick up my car.”
“Sure, but how about dinner first?” He suggests Salt & Brick downtown, and I hesitate only a moment before nodding. It’s not like I’m ready to face the empty condo yet anyway.
As we sit in the car, the silence stretches awkwardly between us. “About what I said to Frankie…” I fidget with the hem of my jacket. “I was just going by your rules.”
Greyson nods, his eyes on the road. “True,” he says quietly. “But it’s a wedding. And you’ve met Frankie. I’d like you to come with me, not because of the rules we set, but because I want you there. With me.”
He glances over as I consider his words, turning them in my mind. Maybe I should. What would that mean? We agreed this was temporary, a way to pass the time until I return to Vancouver. And yet, with every passing day, the idea of leaving feels less like an escape and more like a loss I’m not ready to face.
I glance at him. He’s confident, steady, and so sure of where he belongs. I wish I could say the same.
We pull into a parking space close to Salt & Brick, and I finally allow myself to exhale. Why not go with him? It could be fun, a distraction from the chaos that’s become my life.
Inside the restaurant, the staff greets Greyson like an old friend. The chef emerges from the kitchen, shaking his hand before turning his attention to me. “And who is this lovely lady?”
“Trinity, my girlfriend,” Greyson says, and I resist the urge to correct him. That doesn’t seem like what we talked about when we made our ground rules.
We settle into our seats and with the chef’s recommendation we order the Brussel sprouts, wagyu beef dumplings, tuna tartare, and endive salad.
Greyson turns to me. “Wine with dinner? ”
“Sure, and water too, please.”
“Of course.” The server turns to Greyson. “We have the two-thousand eleven Paradise Hill Cabernet.”
Greyson looks at me. “That’s a good year.”
I shrug. I wouldn’t know the difference between 2011 and 2020.
Greyson smiles at the server. “I think we’ll have the cabernet from Black Bear Winery.”
The server’s brows shoot to his hairline.
“Always smart to watch the competitors,” Greyson remarks.
The server nods and leaves us.
I steal a glance at Greyson, wondering if this dinner is more than just a meal, if perhaps we’re tiptoeing around something deeper than either of us wants to admit. “Before I get you to dive into the whole Black Bear Wines saga or why you declared me your girlfriend to practically everyone here in the restaurant, I should tell you. I’ll go with you to Frankie and Penn’s wedding if you want, as long as it isn’t this weekend, but I want you to think carefully, and it’s okay if you decide it’s better I don’t. That’s outside of our deal.”
Greyson leans back, his chair creaking under the shift of his weight. A dimple flashes in his cheek as he smiles. “It was the easiest way to let them know we’re exclusive,” he explains.
I nod, caught between pleasure and caution. The label girlfriend resonates with a sweetness I didn’t expect to enjoy so much. But this is just until Mom’s settled and hopefully home in her condo. I need to remember this and keep my heart on a leash.
Our server approaches, a bottle of wine in his grasp. He presents it to Greyson for approval, but Greyson dismisses the formality with a wave of his hand. “Just serve it,” he says confidently.
“Are you sure?” the server asks, a frown hovering over his brows.
“Positive,” Greyson replies.
The twist of the top is followed by the sound of wine glugging into our glasses, and the server disappears.
I lift my glass, inhaling the rich aroma before taking a sip. It’s good—fruity, with an oaky undertone—but it doesn’t quite match the cabernet we shared the other night.
Greyson watches me taste it, a knowing twinkle in his eye. “Not as good as the last one, right?”
“Definitely not,” I agree, setting the glass down.
He chuckles softly. “We’ve been invited to the International Wine and Spirits Competition in London in November. Black Bear Winery was as well.”
“Competitive, much?” I tease.
“Of course.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s part of the game.”
I swirl the wine in my glass, and Greyson’s eyes meet mine over the rim.
“Did I ever tell you that my family and the owners of Black Bear are like…well, the Canadian Hatfields and McCoys?”
I shake my head. “No, but do tell.”
“Over a century of bad blood,” he starts with a chuckle. “Eight generations ago, my forebears came here from Scotland. They wagon trained with other immigrants, looking for gold. My eight-generations-ago grandmother had twins, and with the lake there was a fur trade, so they stopped and decided to stay. My distant grandfather’s last name was Pàrras, which is Scottish Gaelic for Paradise, so he renamed himself.
“Over time, more people came. His wife ran the general store, and he, depending on the time of year, either mined or fur trapped. They built their farm, and the Dempseys built next door. At one point they both ran for sheriff. When my ancestor won, he named the town Paradise.”
“I would bet that didn’t make the Dempseys happy.”
“Nope. The Dempseys kept stealing cattle and developed a huge vegetable-farming rivalry. They mimicked every move we made. It was ugly. Rumor has it that if one was in the saloon and the other arrived, everyone would clear out.”
The server appears and sets down our first course. “I’ll bring out the plates as they’re prepared, so just dig in.”
With a nod, we settle in to eat, and for a time, our focus moves to the food. The courses come and go, and it’s all fantastic.
“So who got your family into the wine business?” I eventually ask.
“The government had passed the Temperance Act in 1878, which prohibited the sale of wine. Four generations ago, my great-great grandfather had planted grapes for his own consumption, and he saw an opportunity. The Temperance Act wasn’t being enforced yet, but he knew it was coming. He realized there was an exclusion for sacramental wine, so he planted more and more grapevines and expanded into that market. The vines by the visitor center are his original grapes.”
I’m astonished by that. “Really? What did the Dempseys do?”
“They planted more grapes, too. And when the government sent people here to shut it all down, my father was already supplying the local churches with the wine, so he could continue. But the government burned the Dempseys’ fields.”
“That’s awful.” My hand goes to my heart.
He shakes his head. “They’ve always blamed us, and that took the rivalry up about ten notches. It’s really stupid.”
“Wow. So what happens if a Dempsey ends up in your emergency department?” I ask.
Greyson gives me a look of utmost sincerity. “They’ve come in before. And I treat them like any other patient, professional to the core.”
“Good to know,” I say.
Eventually, the table is cleared, and we’re left with the lingering warmth of shared laughter and emptied plates. Greyson signals for the check, and as he takes care of it, a restlessness stirs within me. The night is getting on, and there’s still the matter of my car at the hospital .
“Trinity, I can take you to pick up your car in the morning, if you’d like,” he offers, standing and pulling on his jacket. “Let’s just go back to my place tonight?”
“Okay,” I agree, more out of a desire not to be alone with my thoughts than anything else.
As we step out into the evening, Greyson turns to me. “I was thinking this weekend, we could—”
“I’m sorry. I nearly forgot,” I tell him as we slide into his car. “Liz, my best friend, is coming to visit this weekend. I can’t wait to see her.”
“What about me?”
I look at him. “It’s only a few nights. We can hang out with you, but we’ll probably stay at my mom’s.”
“You can sleep at my place.”
“No, I can’t,” I protest. “I can’t leave her alone at night.”
His shoulders sag as he starts the engine. “Of course. I understand.”
“Thanks,” I say. “We’ve hardly talked since I got here, and she just broke up with her boyfriend. Maybe you have a friend, and we can go on a double date?”
Greyson nods, considering. “Maybe she’ll sleep with him, and you can sleep with me.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. She may seem like a party girl, but she really isn’t.” I reach for his arm. “It’s only two or three nights.”
“Fine.” He pulls out of the parking lot smoothly, and I lean back into the seat, not sure how I feel about him being so needy.
“Besides,” I add, “it’ll be nice to have some girl time.”
“Of course,” he agrees, the soft glow of the dashboard illuminating his profile. “Girl time is important.”