Chapter 32
Winnie glared at the console in her car as her phone started to ring yet again. “Taylor, I swear I’m going to kill you,” she muttered.
She had just crossed the border from Texas to Oklahoma and stabbed the button to take the call.
“Hello,” she said as politely as she could.
Her sister had been badgering her for a solid week, as if Winnie didn’t have anything going on in her life and could simply uproot everything and come home to take care of Daddy.
Taylor’s crying came through the line. “You have to come home, Winnie.”
“I know,” Winnie said. “I’m on the way right now.”
“I just can’t bear them anymore. Momma thinks I should stay home all the time, and I can’t be trapped in this house with them twenty-four seven.”
Winnie gripped the steering wheel and worked not to roll her eyes. “Taylor, I just crossed the border,” she said. “I’m probably an hour away.”
“You should see the way they order me around. It’s like Mom hurt her back too, but she didn’t, and she’s perfectly capable of making dinner.”
Winnie sighed, the fight leaving her body.
She didn’t want to argue with her sister.
She’d listened to plenty of her mother’s complaints about their father, and while Winnie agreed with a lot of them—and had no idea what it would be like to live with a chronically ill person—she knew her mother didn’t handle stress very well.
Just like Taylor.
“Taylor,” she said, this time louder. “I’m on the way, and I already told Momma—and you—that I was going to bring dinner. Remember?”
Taylor sniffled. “Yes. You’re right.”
Winnie nodded encouragingly, the way she would to a small child. “All right, so it’s going to be fine. I’m going to be there in a few minutes. Remember, I shared my map location with you so you can see how far away I am.”
“What are you going to get for dinner?” Taylor asked, all traces of distress now gone. Of course.
“I told Momma I was going through the drive-through at Roadkill Barbecue, and she texted me your orders, so I already have everything I need.” Winnie made her voice very firm. “I’m not making extra stops, Taylor. I worked all day, and I’ve been driving for hours.”
Once she got to her parents’ house, she’d have to haul her bags in, figure out where she would sleep in the cramped house, and listen to at least three different versions of the same story—one from her mother, one from Daddy, and one from Taylor.
“It’s just that we’re out of Doctor Pepper,” Taylor said.
“Then use that app and order some. I’m not making an extra stop.
” She glanced down at her phone where her map was up, though she’d made this drive before and it was a straight shot north.
“It says I’m fifty-seven minutes out, which means I’m not going to get there until a quarter past nine. I’m tired, and I’m not stopping.”
“Fine,” Taylor said. “But just so you know, I’m going to be gone all day tomorrow. I have had enough of dealing with them. It’s your turn.”
“I’m aware—” Winnie started, then cut off as a loud beep filled the car, indicating Taylor had hung up on her.
Winnie stared at the dashboard. Incredulity ran through her in hot, rampant waves.
Taylor had not been alone in taking care of their dad.
Brad had been there until Monday morning, when he’d gotten up early and made the long drive back to work.
Not only that, he had a wife and a family to take care of, and Taylor had no one but herself.
I don’t know why you’re surprised, Winnie thought, glancing out her side window. Taylor is a narcissist, and everything is about her.
The radio came back on, and Winnie let the country station Ty had introduced her to whisk her cares and worries out the window.
She drove through the barbecue restaurant as planned and arrived at her parents’ house exactly when her map app said she would. She left her bag in the car, hoping to use it as an excuse to escape for a moment later, gathered the plastic sacks of food, and headed inside.
“I’m here,” she called. “And I brought dinner.”
“Praise the heavens,” her momma said from the couch near the front door. She jumped to her feet and approached Winnie, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, it’s so good to see you, my girl.”
Winnie believed her. She knew without a doubt that her momma and daddy loved her, and she let her own powerful feelings of love flow through her as well. “I got the smoked turkey,” she said, her voice a little thick. “And plenty of mashed potatoes. I think you’ll have extras for a week.”
She managed a giggle and then pulled back from her mother. “Where’s Daddy?”
“I already have him set up in bed,” Momma said.
Her father bellowed something from down the hall, but Winnie couldn’t make out the words.
“I’ll fix him up a plate,” Momma said. “You go say hello.” She took the bags and bustled into the kitchen while Winnie took a moment to get her bearings and find her sister.
“Where’s Taylor?” she asked when she didn’t find her in the living room, dining room, or kitchen.
“She ran out to get a soda pop,” Momma said.
Winnie wondered what time she had left, chose not to say anything, and went down the hall to see her father.
Her parents had a bed where the head and foot could both be lifted or lowered, and Daddy sat up on his side closest to the door. A fond smile coursed through her. “Daddy.” She rushed to his side and leaned over gently to hug him. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
“Oh, you’re not going to hurt me,” Daddy said, and he gripped her fiercely, the tight hug telling Winnie she was loved. She thought of Ty and the way he held her on his lap and in his arms and close to his heart.
“Momma’s bringing in dinner,” Winnie said as she stepped back. “What can I get you? When’s the last time you took pills?”
She surveyed the nightstand beside him. It had been cleared of his usual Bible and books; his reading glasses sat on top of an e-reader, and he had a half-drunk bottle of Gatorade, a tall hospital water bottle with a straw, and an array of creams and pill bottles.
“Momma writes everything down,” Daddy said. “She can’t seem to remember what she gave me and when, so we started doing that.”
Alarm tugged through Winnie, but she didn’t let it ring too loudly. She reached for the small notebook on the far corner of the nightstand. Her mother’s familiar handwriting shone back at her, and she found Daddy had taken his pain pills at five-thirty.
“It’s been a little over three hours,” she said. “Are you feeling all right?”
“We time it that way on purpose,” Momma said from the doorway. “So he can take his strong narcotics right before bed. Then he sleeps the best.”
“Okay.” Winnie actually thought that was a smart move.
“I could use some more water,” Daddy said. “And I’m not going to drink that Gatorade.”
Winnie reached for the offending items and cleared them from the nightstand as Momma approached with Daddy’s Styrofoam container of barbecue on a plate.
“She remembered the bacon on the mac and cheese.”
“That’s a good girl,” Daddy said, and he took the plate from Momma.
Winnie noted the color in his face and how well he seemed to be doing. Of course, he lay in bed wearing a back brace, probably in the most comfortable position he’d been in all day. She turned to fill his water bottle and toss the Gatorade and went to do that in the kitchen.
“I’ll take it,” Momma said, and Winnie handed her the refreshed cup of ice water.
Instead of following her down the hall, Winnie moved to the French doors and stepped outside, taking a deep breath as she hugged her arms around herself.
Her parents had a half-acre property here in Redwood.
Nowhere near what Ty was going to buy for his horses and the small farm animals he’d count as pets, but she found their faithful border collie, Lucky, near the back fence.
Winnie walked across the deck and down the steps to greet him.
He was thirteen now and clearly excited to see her.
She smiled, opened his run, and crouched to scrub his neck and face.
“How you doing, Lucky?” Lucky whined and licked her, turned in a circle, his rump wagging in joy to see her.
“Winnie,” her momma called.
Winnie rose and faced the house again, the motion light blazing as she made the trek back, Lucky bounding ahead of her.
“Oh, don’t let him in,” Momma said. “He’s a pain.”
“Momma, how long’s he been in the run?” Winnie asked.
“Um, Taylor put him outside…when your Daddy fell.” Momma glared at the dog as he dodged past her into the house. He went straight to the water bowl in the corner and started lapping vigorously.
More alarms rang through Winnie, far louder now than the fact that her aging mother needed to write down her father’s medication schedule. “Momma, when’s the last time you fed him?”
“Taylor takes care of him,” Momma said.
Watching Lucky sniff his empty bowl and then turn to look at her, Winnie very seriously doubted that. “Momma, I don’t think he’s been fed today.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Momma said.
“Have you met Taylor?” The words slipped out before Winnie could stop them. She shook her head. “Never mind.”
She walked to the pantry and opened the doors, expecting to see Momma’s neat rows of baking supplies, canned goods in holders, bags of flour and sugar and rice, and the bucket of oatmeal on the floor. Instead, pure chaos stared back.
More packaged food than Winnie had ever seen in her parents’ home stared back at her. Mac and cheese, bagged noodles, rice dishes, lentil cups, the list went on and on.
“Where’s Lucky’s food?”
“We had to move it into the garage,” Momma said.
Winnie turned a long look on her mother. When Momma didn’t meet her eyes, Winnie’s heart started to pound an irregular rhythm.
“Come on, Lucks,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Let’s go get your food.” She scooped up his bowl, opened the door by the dining table, and stepped down the three steps into the garage, flipping on the light as she went.