Chapter 5
S eth sat stiffly in the corner of the exam room, arms crossed, his spine ramrod straight. His gut was clenched tight.
The last time he and his father had been in a hospital room together, Seth had been the one in the bed.
Sixteen years old, stitched up and bruised, nursing injuries that came from trouble he had no business being in.
Chester hadn’t said much back then. He’d stood in the doorway, jaw tight, arms crossed.
He knew his father was pissed. His dad was always pissed at him for one thing or another.
Seth had never won his dad’s praise. Never measured up.
The silent condemnation was a constant for as long as Seth could remember.
Yeah, no words were necessary in their relationship.
This time, he’d royally messed up, though.
It wasn’t chores that weren’t done to Chester’s standards or grades that weren’t perfect, and it wasn’t that he didn’t move fast enough when his mom asked him to help out.
No, this time, he’d outright disobeyed his dad.
He’d fixed up the old truck Chester had given him.
Worked damn hard to get it running, and against his dad’s wishes, he’d taken it to the homecoming party at the lake.
The parking brake failed, and he’d tried his hardest to keep it from rolling into the water.
The damn thing gained momentum, and he’d lost his footing, slipped under the front wheel, and was run over.
It was funny to all the kids around him until it wasn’t.
Because alcohol was involved, people scattered.
Gregg Koehler went to the nearest ranch and called for help.
He came back and stayed with Seth until the sheriff and Chester arrived.
Seth begged Gregg to leave, but he wouldn’t, even though they both knew Gregg’s dad would beat the tar out of him for being at the party.
Chester didn’t say a word. That look and the silence did more than words or, in Gregg’s case, fists, could do.
Seth hated that Gregg had to pay for his mess up.
When his friend showed up at the hospital three days later, the bruises and split lip told him just how much his friendship had cost Gregg.
Chester stood up, walked over to Gregg, tilted his chin up, and narrowed his eyes. “Your pap do this?” he asked.
Gregg nodded .
“For helping Seth when he screwed up?”
Gregg nodded again. Chester turned and stared at Seth, lifting his finger and pointing at Gregg.
No words. Seth knew exactly what Chester meant.
If he’d listened, he wouldn’t be in the hospital, and Gregg’s dad wouldn’t have laid a hand on his friend.
That single movement crushed him in a way nothing else could.
His father dropped his arm, shook his head, and left the room.
Seth knew at that moment he’d never be enough for his dad.
Chester’s disappointment was a constant in his life.
It was almost as if he expected Seth to mess up.
Which he did … sometimes. But mostly that disappointment put Seth on the road out of Hollister.
He knew he was meant for more, and he knew the constant disappointment he lived under wasn’t who he was.
That was why he’d joined the Air Force and probably why he’d excelled.
The determination to prove he was better than his old man thought he was.
Not much had changed. Only now, Chester sat on the edge of the exam table, his shoulders slumped forward, hands worrying the bill of his old feed store cap like it might hold answers to questions neither of them wanted to ask.
Seth really wished it did.
The doctor had been kind and gentle yet thorough when working with his dad. She walked them through what she called a routine cognitive screening. The questions sounded simple … until Seth had to watch his father struggle.
“What year is it, Mr. Hansen?”
Chester squinted at the ceiling, breathing hard through his nose. “Two thousand … and … twelve.” His voice cracked.
Seth didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He wanted to correct him so badly it hurt. Wanted to say Come on, Dad. You know this. How can you not know what year it is?
But he stayed quiet. It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.
The doctor nodded and scribbled something onto her chart without missing a beat.
They moved on. The clock test. Chester passed that one.
The three-word memory test: apple, table, penny .
His dad couldn’t recall any of them when asked.
They took a short walk down the hall so she could observe his gait.
Blood was drawn. Vitals were checked. A CT scan was ordered.
Chester hadn’t liked any of it, but to his credit, he’d gone along. That, more than anything, scared Seth. Chester Hansen didn’t let people do things. He sure as hell didn’t comply without argument.
All those questions. The memory games. The scans. The medical terms. Not once was the word dementia said. Not once. But Seth could feel it. It hung in the air, thick and heavy, like smoke wafting through every breath. Everyone in the room seemed to ignore it, but it was there.
Afterward, Seth lingered in the hallway while the nurse walked Chester out to the lobby with a paper cup of water and a soft promise: “It’ll only be a few more minutes.”
The exam room door closed with a soft, final click. The quiet settled around Seth like a trap. The humming overhead lights, the faint scent of antiseptic and burned coffee, and a silence that weighed more than it should have.
The doctor returned a few moments later. She was in her fifties, with warm, perceptive eyes and a voice that cut clean through the noise without ever raising in volume. She sat across from him in a rolling chair, no computer, no tablet. Just a plain manila folder resting in her hands.
“Seth, thank you for staying,” she said gently. “I wanted a moment to speak with you alone.”
He nodded, jaw so tight it ached from being clenched all afternoon. “Yeah. Of course.”
He braced himself. Every part of him was waiting for the hit. She opened the folder, glanced down briefly, then looked up and met his gaze.
“We’re not finished yet. There are still blood test results pending, and we’ll need to review the CT scan before confirming anything officially.
But …” She pulled another sheet of paper from the folder.
“Based on today’s cognitive screening, our clinical interview, and what you’ve shared with us,” she paused, “your father is showing signs consistent with moderate dementia. Most likely Alzheimer’s. ”
The words were clear. Gentle. Carefully chosen.
And they hit like a fucking draft horse kick to the gut.
Seth swallowed hard. “So … this isn’t just him forgetting where he put his keys.
” He shook his head and lifted a hand. “No, don’t answer that.
I know it’s not.” He shook his head. “You’re going to think this is stupid, but I was hoping that maybe it was something else.
Hoping for a miracle, you know, because that isn’t my dad, and …
well, I’m not going to lie, the road ahead scares the heck out of me. ”
The doctor gave him a soft, sad smile. “It isn’t stupid.
Everyone in your situation likely hopes and prays for a miracle, but you’re right.
This won’t be easy. I understand the fear of the unknown.
Unfortunately, you’ll need to walk that road with him because what he’s dealing with is beyond normal aging.
He’s confused about time, place, and the sequence of events.
His ability to problem solve is impaired.
You witnessed that yourself today. And you said he left the stove on twice since you’ve been home?
How long have you been staying with him? ”
Seth closed his eyes and nodded, then opened them to meet the doctor’s gaze.
“Almost two weeks. It took a while to get in to see you,” he murmured.
“That’s understandable,” she said gently. “He’ll need supervision … more structure in his schedule. A routine will help. However, he’ll likely need assistance with daily tasks. More than someone just checking in on him now and then.” She paused. “Are you staying with him currently?”
“Yes.” Seth nodded once, steady and resolute. “Until he needs more than I can give.” His sister Sarah had a family counting on her in Aberdeen. He had no ties except Gomer. He’d stay.
The doctor studied him for a beat, then gave a small nod. “Does he have his legal paperwork in order? Medical power of attorney, end-of-life directives?”
“Not yet, ma’am. I just got home. The physical was the priority.
However, I’ll be meeting with a lawyer in Hollister to finalize everything.
We’ll make sure he’s aware of what’s happening before he signs anything.
She’s a court officer, so I’m sure she’ll arrange for witnesses to confirm he’s lucid and understands what he’s signing. ”
“Good,” the doctor said. “There are some medications that may help manage the symptoms. Maybe even slow the progression a little. We’ll go over options once all the test results are in.
” She leaned forward slightly, her voice soft but unwavering as she continued, “But you need to understand something, Seth. This is a progressive illness. It will get worse. Not overnight, of course, but gradually, steadily. You’ll see him slip.
Sometimes the slips will be grand, sometimes it will be little things. ”
Seth turned his head, staring hard at the whiteboard on the wall behind her desk. It was covered in clips of articles and hospital posters, but none of it offered a miracle.
“Ma’am … he’s always been so damn stubborn,” Seth said, his voice low. “Never asked for help. Never let me in. I pray that changes.”
The doctor offered him a quiet, sympathetic smile. “That might not change. But how you respond, well, that’s what matters. And you’re already doing the right thing by bringing him in.”
Seth nodded, emotion thick in his throat. At least he’d done this one thing right. “Okay, what happens now?”
“We’ll schedule a follow-up. My nurse will give you an information packet with helpful resources. And if you need help navigating any of it, just let us know.” She rested her hand over the folder. “You’re not alone in this, Seth.”
He stood slowly, his body stiff with the weight of reality settling into his bones. “Thank you, ma’am. For everything.” He opened the exam room door and stepped into the hallway.
There, just outside, Chester sat with his legs crossed, staring out the window like nothing had changed.
But for Seth … everything had.
Outside, Seth walked beside his father, their steps slow as they made their way to the truck. Chester shuffled more than he walked, muttering about the fluorescent lights inside the clinic giving him a headache.
“You did good today, Dad,” Seth said quietly.
Chester grunted. “Felt like a damn lab rat.”
Seth tried to laugh, but it didn’t quite land.
He unlocked the truck and waited as his father climbed in.
The old man’s joints creaked louder than the hinges on the door.
Seth had come home to help, not to take over.
But now? Now, he understood. The man who’d once seemed carved from granite was crumbling, seemingly softening into sand.
And all the resentment, the lost time, the unsaid words, the silence that had stretched between them like a canyon, it all felt meaningless.
None of it mattered anymore.
Not now.
They drove home in silence. Not the angry kind.
Not the cold, resentful kind either. This was the quiet of understanding.
The tired kind. The kind that filled the truck cab like a fog.
It was heavy with the weight of everything unspoken between them.
And for Seth, at least, there was a fear that there might not be time to say it, or if he did … would his dad remember?
When they pulled into the drive, Chester opened the door and climbed out.
Seth watched him head toward the porch and called after him. “Watch the step, Dad.”
“I built this damn step,” Chester muttered as he took it slowly, gripping the railing harder than he needed to.
Seth didn’t argue. He just stood nearby, quiet, watching the stiffness in his father’s movements.
Inside, Gomer greeted him at the door, tail sweeping the floor like a broom. Seth opened the door and let the dog outside to relieve himself, the screen door creaking shut behind him.
The house smelled like old furniture, dust, and yesterday’s coffee.
He’d cleaned up the stacks of stuff, well …
mostly. The clutter was gone from the living room, boxes cleared and stacked in the storage shed out back.
He’d moved the recliner closer to the window so Chester could sit and watch the pasture in the afternoons.
The fridge was stocked with simple meals, most of them bought at the diner after Ken’s recommendation. Seth sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around.
He didn’t know what he was doing. Not really. But he’d done his best and would keep doing just that.
Chester shuffled out of the hallway and paused, taking in the space like he was a guest in someone else’s home. His eyes roamed the room, a faint frown pulling at his weathered face.
“Something’s missing,” he muttered.
“No, Pops. I just cleared some space,” Seth replied gently. “Thought I’d make things easier.”
Chester snorted. “Looks like a retirement home.”
He made his way to the recliner and sank into it with a long, bone-deep sigh. Within minutes, his eyes slipped shut. Seth hadn’t even had time to offer him dinner.
He stood there for a moment, unmoving, watching the man who’d once walked fence lines in January without flinching. The man who’d used to yell loud enough to rattle the windows. Now, he was slumped in his chair, dozing before the sun set.
The lines on Chester’s face were deep, his jaw soft, slack with exhaustion. Seth stepped quietly into the kitchen and rubbed a hand over his face, bracing himself against the counter.
If this was hard for him …
My God.
How hard was it for his father?