Chapter 29
ELLA
Ry’s taking a shower while Harlan and I finish eating. Ry eats double what we eat and still finishes before us at every meal.
“So, he really took you out there today, huh?”
“Yeah. I was shocked in the beginning simply because I had assumed that she passed away.”
“He’s never taken anyone else out there. I went a couple of times with Michael, but Crutch doesn’t want me to go. He wants me to remember Dottie as the vibrant young woman I always knew.”
“What about his parents? Trash? Do they ever go to visit?”
He takes the last bite of his cheeseburger. “They can’t. They’re not allowed to.”
I furrow my brow, dragging a French fry through a mountain of ketchup. “What do you mean? They’re family.”
“They can’t visit without Crutch’s permission. He’s got power of attorney. He can designate who’s allowed to visit and who isn’t. And Crutch would rather eat razor blades than let those lowlifes around her.”
“He’s Grandma’s power of attorney? Not his mother?”
“Hell no. She would take everything she could get from Dottie and dump her in the lowest-cost facility she could find. You know something terrible like what you see on those hidden camera news investigations.”
“But Ry’s so young to be in charge of all of those major decisions.”
“He’s an honorable boy. Best thing Michael ever did was draft a will the second Dottie got sick. He had everything figured out to protect both Dottie and Crutch. I was named temporary power of attorney for a few months after Michael’s death. As soon as Crutch turned nineteen, everything turned over to him. He’s a remarkable young man. I’m proud to call him my own. Although, he did go against Michael’s wishes in one aspect, and I’ve never really forgiven him for that.”
I lean forward, engrossed in learning more about Ry. I do feel like I’m doing something a little forbidden, though—talking about him behind his back. I cast a look over my shoulder and quietly listen. When I hear the shower still running, I turn back to Harlan. “What happened? What did he do?”
Harlan leans back and stretches his arms behind his head. “It’s more of what he didn’t do–college. I mean, he’s gone to the community college, but he was supposed to go to the big university. He got in, but he was real pissed he didn’t get a scholarship. He said the school guidance counselor is supposed to help with things like that, but I know her and her family. Stuck-up little thing who thinks Crutch is like the rest of his family. But a scholarship was a moot point, Michael had set aside money for college. He planned ahead.
“When he sold me the land, it was to help offset the future expense of the nursing home and care for Dottie. But when he moved to the apartment in town and sold his house out here, that money was earmarked for Crutch’s education. Specifically.”
My mouth gapes open in shock. I stumble over my words. “Huh? Why didn’t he go to the university then? Why miss out on school for a whole year to save up money for a two-year college? Instead of going to a four-year school immediately?”
“He’s scared the money will run out, and Dottie will still be living. Still be in need of care. Some people with Alzheimer’s, especially early onset like Dottie, can live for fifteen, twenty years. He couldn’t bear to spend that money for school, knowing that someday, ten years from now, he may need it to care for her.
“Michael was in the service—Marines. Since he was activated during a wartime classification, the VA will pick up and pay some nursing home benefits to the surviving spouse once their assets get below a certain point. If the money from the land sale started to run low, the VA benefits and Medicare would still provide a nice place for Dottie. It just wouldn’t be the place she is now. She’s in the best place in the damn state. Crutch wasn’t willing to take that chance. He hasn’t spent one dime of the money from the sale of the house. He’s saving it all in case he needs it for her.”
I rub my temples with my fingers, trying to make room in my brain for this explosive new information.
Harlan stands up, tossing the last of his trash. “Welp, I’m gonna head outside and smoke a cigar before the boys get here for poker.” He stops at my chair, flicking me on the shoulder. “Come on, honey, stand up. Give this old man a hug.”
In a zombie-like state, I do as I’m told, quickly resting my chin against Harlan’s chubby shoulder. He smells like grease, deodorant, and sweet chewing tobacco. “Now don’t go feeling sorry for the boy. This was all his choice. It’s how he wants to do things. You have to respect his wishes. Family means more to him than some piece of paper with a degree written on it. Shows a shitload of character in my book.” He pats my head. “And he doesn’t wanna be less in your eyes. You’re the first girl to ever treat him like a real equal. He wants to be the kind of man you deserve.”
I pull away, dabbing at the moisture in my eyes. “ I’m the one who doesn’t deserve him , Harlan.”
True story.
And what the hell am I supposed to do with these feelings? Because how can love uplift you and cripple you at the exact same time?