Chapter 6
RAELYN
Ihated drop-off days.
Not only did I have to give up my boys for the night, but I had to come face-to-face with Dan. He was the last person I wanted to see, and it didn’t help matters that he always wanted to meet at the Walmart parking lot. It was always so busy on the weekends, and the exchange always felt so rushed.
I was parked next to the front entrance, and I silently groaned when I saw Dan’s silver pickup pulling into the lot. I glanced back at the boys to tell them he was here, but they were already unbuckling their seatbelts, chattering about the night like it was any other Saturday.
Once he’d parked, I got out and forced a smile as I told him, “The boys already ate breakfast.”
“Good deal.”
“And they both packed clothes for church tomorrow.”
There was no ‘thank you’. Just a simple nod as he got out and grabbed the boys’ bags.
He didn’t ask how the boys were, and there was no mention of CeeCee’s pregnancy.
I thought he might try to feel me out and see how I felt about it, but he wouldn’t even look at me.
He just tossed the bags into the back like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“I’ll drop them off tomorrow after dinner,” he said flatly, already turning away.
“Okay, that’s fine, but you should know that Thomas has a book he needs to read this weekend. It’s in his bag.”
“He has what to do?” he snapped, finally looking me in the eye.
“He has a report due on Tuesday,” I answered. “He needs to read the book this weekend, so we can get…”
“That should’ve been done on your time, Rae,” he growled. “We’ve got tickets to the game tonight.”
“I know. Thomas told me, but…”
“No buts. He’s not wasting his night with me doing some dumb book report for school!”
“It’s not wasting his night, Dan. He can read a few chapters before you go…”
“I said no! I’m not rearranging my plans because you can’t keep up with what the kids are supposed to do.”
He always did that. He always found a way to turn everything into my fault, that I’d done something wrong, and it infuriated me. “You’re his parent, too. It wouldn’t kill you to help him.”
His jaw tightened, and for a second, I thought he was going to say something even worse than he already had. Instead, he shook his head and grumbled, “Whatever.”
He got back in his truck and slammed the door, putting an end to the conversation. What a jerk. I was still reeling from our exchange when the boys came over to me. Lucas reached for me first. He hugged me and whispered, “Have a good weekend, Mom.”
“You, too, sweetheart.”
As soon as he started for the truck, Thomas stepped up. He gave me a tight hug and said, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll get the book read before I get back. I promise.”
I nodded and whispered, “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
With that, he climbed in next to his brother and closed the door, and that hollow ache in my chest returned. Once they buckled up, Dan glanced over at me. Once upon a time, those eyes had been warm and full of love. Now, there was nothing.
I stood there and watched as he pulled off. The boys waved at me through the rear window, and I waved back, heart squeezing in my chest like it always did when they left. Yeah. Drop-off days were the worst.
Dan hadn’t even really looked at me. Not the way he used to. Strangely enough, the thought had me thinking about the man who’d approached our table at the diner. There was something about him that stuck with me.
He was handsome, but not in your typical hot guy kind of way.
This guy was rugged and intense, and looked like he’d been shaped by life, not sheltered from it.
His flannel shirt was tattered along the hemline and pulled against the muscles of his chest, and his jeans were worn and fit like a glove.
One might think he couldn’t afford new clothes, but I got the feeling that wasn’t the case.
He was solid, sure of himself, and didn’t seem the type to care about something as trivial as what he was wearing.
His sleeves had been pushed up just enough to show the tattoos running down his forearm, leaving me wondering if there were more beneath his shirt.
I also wondered if they meant something, if they told a story.
His story.
Something told me his wasn’t an easy one. I could see that in the roughness in him. His graying hair and the beard that hadn’t been trimmed in some time, along with his calloused hands, didn’t take away from him. If anything, they made him more.
So much more.
But it was his eyes that got to me the most.
I felt a warmth and sense of understanding the second he looked at me. It didn’t make sense. The man didn’t know anything about me, and yet, he looked at me like he understood all the hardships I’d been through.
More than that, he looked at me like I mattered.
Not like I was in the way. Not like I was an obligation.
Like he saw something in me that compelled him to stand there a moment longer than he should, just so he could get a better look at me. And that made me wonder if he might’ve found me attractive, which brought a smile to my face.
That smile stuck with me all the way over to my parents’ house.
I’d been promising to go see them all week, but with school and the boys’ after-school practices, I hadn’t been able to make it, which I felt awful about. They were getting older and needed me more now than ever.
I turned down their road and sighed when I spotted the white farmhouse in the distance. There was a time when that house brought me nothing but comfort and joy. Now, it deepened the ache in my chest.
Dad was out on his tractor, mowing the front lawn, and I couldn’t help but notice that the lines weren’t as straight as they used to be.
It wasn’t a big deal, but something about it saddened me.
It was just another sign that my parents were getting older, and there would come a time when they wouldn’t be here anymore.
I parked beside his old pickup, and by the time I got out, Dad was already off the tractor and walking toward me. He used the back of his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow as he said, “Morning.”
“Hey, Dad.” The exhaustion in his eyes made my chest tighten. “How’s it going?”
“It’s going.”
“Doesn’t sound that way.”
“Your mom’s had a rough morning.”
His words hit like cold water. Mom’s memory wasn’t what it used to be, and there were days when she didn’t know where she was or even who she was, much less who we were.
I hated it. Alzheimer's had stolen my mother. It had stolen her memory, her judgment, and even her will to fight, leaving her a shell of the woman she used to be. It hurt me to see her this way, but it didn’t compare to how it had affected my father, the one who stayed with her day in and day out.
He sounded utterly defeated as he told me, “She woke up early and was real confused. Couldn’t remember where the bathroom was and kept asking for her mother… thinking that she was still a girl, living back with her folks in their old house on Maple.”
“Oh, Dad. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It took me a while to calm her down, but I did.” He forced a smile as he told me, “Got her looking back on some of our old memory books.”
“She’s getting worse, Dad.”
“Yeah, it’s happening faster than I thought, but we’re making it okay.”
Dad wasn’t ready to admit that he needed help.
I didn’t want to admit it either, but we both knew it was coming.
It was only a matter of time before we would have to consider bringing in help or placing her into a nursing home, which neither of us wanted to do.
But it was a reality we had to face. “We’re going to have to start talking about our next move. ”
“We’re not there yet.”
“But we’re getting closer,” I pushed. “We have to do what we can to make sure Mom’s safe. That’s what matters most.”
“I’m not ready.”
“I’m not either. I’m not sure I’ll ever be, but it’s not about us and what we’re ready for.”
“I know. I know.”
I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him tight as I said, “I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you.”
“It’s hard on you, too, kiddo.” He hugged me for a moment, then asked, “You going inside to see her?”
“If that’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay.” He gave me a warm smile. “She’ll be glad to see you.”
I nodded, then started up the front porch.
Each step was heavier than the last. I tried to brace myself for whatever I’d find inside, but there was no way to prepare for losing the one person who knew you better than anyone.
I stepped inside and was met immediately by the familiar scent of lemon cleaner and old wood.
It should’ve been comforting, but sadly, that wasn’t the case.
Mom used to take such pride in her home. She could spot a crooked picture frame across the room and would rush to fix it before anyone noticed. Every magazine had its place, every blanket was folded just right, and God help the person who put a cup on one of her tables without a coaster.
Now, every room was cluttered with furniture and knick-knacks that seemed to appear out of thin air.
Chairs were in odd places, and picture frames were stacked in the corner.
It was like I was trying to walk through a maze made of memories that my mother couldn’t hold onto anymore, and that made me sad.
I weaved around her old recliner and overflowing baskets of trinkets and made my way into the kitchen.
I found my mother sitting at the table with a cup of coffee in one hand and a photo album in the other.
I watched her brows furrow as she turned the page and studied the images. My heart squeezed at the sight.
I poured myself a cup of coffee before joining her at the table. “Morning, Mama.”
For a long, breathless moment, she just stared at me.
Her eyes skirted over me, slow and steady, like she was trying to remember, and I prayed desperately that she did.
I needed my mother today, even if it was just for a brief moment.
Eventually, she smiled and said, “You have to see these pictures I found… They’re from a few summers ago when we took Rae and the kids to the lake. ”
My chest tightened. It hurt that her mind wouldn’t let her recognize me today, but I found comfort in knowing that some of her memories were there. She knew I existed, and the boys too, so I took that as positive.
“Sounds like a fun trip,” I replied, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.
“You should’ve seen it.” She slid the album over to me as she said, “Rae was determined to get Thomas up on those skis.”
Hearing her say Thomas’ name warmed my heart. Not only had she remembered me, but she’d also remembered Dad and Thomas. I laughed as I said, “I lost count of how many times that poor kid face planted in that water.”
“But he never gave up,” Mom replied proudly. “He was a determined little guy.”
“Sounds like his grandfather.”
“Oh, he’s just like him.”
And just like that, the morning shifted.
We spent the next hour looking over pictures and sharing memories, side by side. Mom traced the photographs with her fingertip, trying to lock away the memories. There were so many important moments, like the time Lucas fell off the dock and Thomas tried to teach himself to fish.
She remembered all of them.
Not perfectly, but enough to make my chest ache with gratitude.
Every so often, she would look up at me with that clear, familiar recognition shining in her eyes, and I held onto those moments like they were gold. I knew they would come less and less, but she was here now.
She was with me, remembering and talking.
And I cherished every second of it.