Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
LILY
The automatic doors of Big Ridge Manor slide open with a soft whoosh.
I’m immediately hit with that familiar mix of antiseptic and something else I can never quite place.
Maybe the scent of slowly encroaching death?
My chest tightens a little as I approach the front desk, exhaustion weighing heavy on my bones.
The job for Addison is taking a toll. The only thing keeping me going is knowing that as cluttered as that house is, cleaning it is temporary.
“Hey there, Lily!” The woman behind the counter waves. I’ve seen her around Big Ridge ever since we moved here—at the grocery store, the post office, church when I used to go—small town syndrome at its finest.
“Hey!” I wave back, forcing a smile. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
“Sure is. Your mama’s having a good morning.”
Excitement zings through me. My heart flutters as I sign in and make my way down the hallway. The beige walls are lined with paintings of the mountains that probably came from some bulk healthcare supply catalog, but today they don’t feel quite as depressing.
I pause outside Mom’s door, bracing myself.
I never know which version of Mom I’m going to get.
The one who raised me or the stranger who happens to share my DNA.
I peek around the doorframe and find her hunched over a puzzle at the small table by her window, the radio humming softly nearby.
Her hair, more silver than red now catches the afternoon light.
She’s wearing the blue cardigan I brought her last month. My throat tightens.
“Hi, Mom.”
She glances up, and for a terrifying second, her expression is blank. Then something shifts behind her green eyes and recognition flickers to life.
“Lily! Oh honey, come sit.” She pats the chair beside her.
Relief crashes over me so hard I almost stumble.
Mom was older when she had me, though it was never a big deal.
By most standards, now at sixty-three, she should be perfectly healthy, but the disease has progressed enough that she needs constant care to keep herself safe.
It would have been too dangerous to leave her at home where she frequently left the stove on or forgot to turn off the water.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying right here in front of her.
Good days are precious, and I’m not about to waste this one falling apart.
“What are you working on?” I settle into the chair, studying the puzzle. It’s a mountain landscape that’s pretty, but not nearly as pretty as the views in Big Ridge.
“Five hundred pieces.” She picks up a corner piece, turning it this way and that. “The sky is giving me trouble.”
“I think I can help with that.” We work in comfortable silence for a few minutes. It’s almost like everything is fine. Just mother and daughter working a puzzle together on a lazy afternoon.
“How’s work, sweetheart?” She slots a piece into place with satisfaction.
“Really good, actually.” A lie, but I’ll say anything to keep this peace. “Busy.” A truth. I’m obnoxiously busy.
“That’s wonderful. You always were so driven.” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’m so proud of you.”
My throat closes up. I squeeze back as my phone buzzes against the table right as the song switches to a hit from when I was in high school.
“Sorry, let me turn that off.” I glance at the screen. It’s Tom. Crap. “Mom, I have to take this, but I’ll be quick.”
“Okay, sweetie.”
I step into the hallway, forcing my voice into professional mode. “Hi, Mr. Wilson.” I try to pay attention as best I can, but my mind is pulled toward Mom. The call takes longer than expected and by the time I get back to Mom’s room, she’s finished the edges.
“Sorry about that.” I slide back into my chair, reaching for a piece that looks like it might be part of a tree.
The radio cycles to another song I recognize from my teenage years, and I chuckle. “I love this song.”
“I know you do.” Mom looks up at me, and my stomach drops. She’s still there, but her gaze is a little unfocused.
“You have such beautiful hair, baby.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Are you nervous about the dance tonight? We should really start thinking about getting you ready. Don’t want to be late for prom.”
The puzzle piece slips from my fingers. Prom? Jesus. That was over ten years ago. At least she recognizes me.
“A little nervous,” I manage, my voice steady despite the way my chest is caving in. I’ve learned from the nurses that the easiest way through an episode is to go along with it rather than fight it. “What do you think I should do with it?”
“Oh, definitely an updo. Something elegant.” Her eyes light up with excitement. “What time is your date picking you up?”
“Seven.” Every lie crushes me a little more.
“Then we better get moving!” She starts to stand, panic creeping into her voice. “We haven’t even started on your hair, and your dress probably needs to be steamed, and—”
“Mom, it’s okay.” I reach for her hand. “We have time. Let’s finish the puzzle.”
But she’s already moving toward her tiny bathroom, muttering about curling irons and bobby pins. I hear her opening and closing the medicine cabinet, then a crash as something hits the floor.
“Mom?”
“I can’t find my curling iron.”
That’s because she’s not allowed to have one. “Oh, it’s okay. I think I might have Callie do my hair,” I say, trying to bring her back to me.
“Nonsense. I can do it, I just need to find the damn thing.” She bangs around in the bathroom some more before making a frustrated sound. “Where is it? Where’s my curling iron?” Her voice is rising, taking on that edge I know too well.
I walk to the bathroom doorway. “It’s okay. My hair is fine down.”
“No.” She slices her hand through the air. “No, we have to curl it.” She scowls at the bathroom cabinet. “This isn’t even my bathroom!” Her bewildered expression kills me. “Where are we?”
“Mom, you’re not at home. Remember? This is your room now.”
Her face crumples, confusion and fear replacing the excitement from moments before. “No.” She shakes her head then says it a little more firmly. “No.”
“Mom,” I say carefully. “You’re in memory care.”
“No, I don’t . . . I don’t understand. Where am I?” Her hands shake as she looks around the small space like she’s seeing it for the first time.
“You’re safe,” I say quickly, but she’s backing away from me, tears starting to fall.
“I want to go home.” She’s looking at me like I’m a stranger now, features pinched in confusion.
My heart shatters, but I know better than to push. Instead, I press the call button for the nurse and within minutes, one appears.
“Hey there, Iris.” The nurse’s voice is soothing as she approaches. “Let’s take some deep breaths together, okay?”
I step back, watching her work her magic. It takes several minutes of Mom shouting to go home before the nurse eventually calms her down, allowing herself to be guided back to her chair. By the time the nurse looks at me, Mom is staring out the window like nothing happened.
The nurse reaches over to turn off the radio before coming to me. “She’ll be okay,” she murmurs. “These transitions are hard, but she’ll settle.”
“I don’t know what happened,” I admit.
“Sometimes music is good for them, but other times, it can be a problem.”
“They were playing songs from when I was younger.”
She nods. “That might’ve been it. Either way, it might be best to give her some time.”
I want to hug mom, to kiss her forehead, but I don’t want to set her off again. With my heart in my throat, I gather my things and leave, fighting tears the whole way to my car.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I sniff, trying to shove down my sorrow as I make sure it’s not work.
CALLIE
Meet up at my house in thirty minutes? Aspen’s bringing tacos.
On my way.
I’ll take anything to keep from wallowing in my grief.
“So.” Callie hands Coronas to and Aspen and me. We’re sprawled across her overstuffed couch like we used to in high school, empty taco plates scattered on the coffee table. “How was your trip, Aspen?”
Aspen stretches like a cat, her blonde hair falling in soft waves down her back. “Heartbreaking. Exhausting, but strangely beautiful too.” She tucks her feet under her. “Grandma would have loved the turnout for her funeral. Half of the town showed up.”
“It sounds like it was nice,” I say, picking at my fingers. I’m not sure what Mom wants when she passes. I honestly didn’t think I’d be worrying about that until I was in my forties, but with her in memory care already. . . things have changed.
Noticing my sudden silence, Aspen reaches over and squeezes my hand. “How is she?”
My chest aches. “Good days and bad days. More bad lately.”
We sit in heavy silence for a moment. I love them, but I don’t want to cry right now. They both seem to understand, especially Callie, who clears her throat dramatically. “Okay, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you want to hear about my trip?”
Exhaling in relief, I tap my chin. “Depends. Does it involve butt plugs?”
Aspen laughs, shaking her head. “I can live without hearing about your butt, Cal.”
“Hey, some people love my butt.” Callie waggles her eyebrows.
I stare thoughtfully into my bottle. “Is it hard to hook up with all three of them at once?”
Pink immediately floods Callie’s cheeks. “It’s not hard per se.” Aspen’s pillow thwacks her in the head and Callie giggles. “Okay, okay. It’s a lot but oh my god, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I love those guys.”
Warmth fills my chest thinking about how far she and the Williams brothers have come. Not too long ago she swore she’d never forgive them and now she’s three dick deep. “Who hurts the most in your ass?”
“Oh my god.” Callie groans and covers her face with the pillow. “Knox.”
Aspen snaps in approval. “Okay, Knox with the BDE.”
Laughing, I raise my Corona. “Here’s to big dick energy.”
Callie peeks out from behind the pillow. “Can we talk about something else? Like how you’re living with Matt’s three hot best friends?”