Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
F inn set the large paper bag he carried down so he could sign-in at the front desk of Wylder Ridge.
Through the glass wall behind the front desk, he could see at least a dozen residents on the back patio basking in the midday sun.
Wylder Ridge was a smaller retirement community, aged fifty-five and over.
The main building held studio apartments.
Half a dozen cabins with full kitchens sat in back for couples who wished more independence, who drove regularly.
No fancy programs, no arts director, but it was clean, and the staff cared about their residents as if they were family.
An unfamiliar thin man with tortoiseshell glasses sat behind the wooden counter. This must be the new hire Pa mentioned. No name tag yet.
He looked up and said, “Who are you here for?”
“Charles Murphy, room 52B.”
Pa’s favorite Black nurse sat nearby at a computer, her long dark braids pulled away from her face as she typed. When he spoke, Stella raised her head and rose, her full lips curving into a gentle smile.
She came around the counter and gave him a hug. “Finn Murphy. It has been a spell.”
“It has,” Finn said. “You were on vacation last week. How was Disney with Ty and the kids?”
She beamed. “We had a fantastic time. My kids can’t stop talking about it.”
“That’s great. It’s been a bit since I’ve been down there.” Finn scrawled his name on the clipboard atop the counter.
“Charlie’s birthday’s today. You got a cake?”
Finn nodded as he picked up the bag. “And berries just the way he likes.”
Stella stepped back as if to evaluate him. She’d worked with his mom at Hollows Hospital in town for years, long before its doors closed.
A single line of worry appeared across her forehead. She tsk’d. “You’ve lost weight since I saw you, in a bad way. Your pa’s going to notice.”
“Long hours in rotations. Studying. How is he today?”
She frowned and held her hand up. “You did not just try to distract me. I made a promise to your dear mama before she passed. She would want you to put some meat on those bones.”
He folded his arms. “I started my rotations two months ago, Stella.”
“What happens when you’re skinny enough to walk through cracks?”
He cocked his head and fought a grin. “It’s not that bad.”
“I’ll be keeping my eye on you. A promise is a promise. Your mama was an angel.” She tugged his arm toward the hallway on the right. “You’ll be having a large piece of that cake if I have to feed it to you myself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Stella walked alongside him; her shoes squeaked along the tile floor.
“Charlie’s in the game room, on a winning streak.
” She lowered her voice, her southern accent dropping into the pronunciation of her words.
“It’s a good thing you’re here. He’s acting like he’s the one who drove ten hours to see Mickey Mouse. ”
“Cards?”
“Mm-hmm. No one’s beat him today.”
They passed open doors on either side of the hall, a lingering scent of hospital grade disinfectant in the air.
Pa loved cards. He often won and celebrated with enthusiasm. His opponents, though, felt downright resentful. Finn glanced at the bag in his hand. Maybe he should have brought a bigger cake.
As if she could read his mind, Stella said, “Half of them can’t eat sugar. I’ll stash it in his room, bring you some plates and silverware.”
He followed her into the game room. The walls were painted sky blue.
Framed photographs of the Great Smoky Mountains hung along one wall.
The windows opposite brought light in. Small sitting areas filled the corners of the room, some occupied with residents visiting loved ones.
Square wooden tables stood in the middle with chairs around.
Two women worked a puzzle at one. Pa sat at another, cards in hand, across from a man in a wheelchair with a long white beard.
Stella’s voice rang out like a musical note. “Charlie—brought you a visitor.”
Pa turned. A broad smile broke across his time weathered face. “Finn, my boy.”
With the help of his cane, he rose and gave Finn a back slapping hug. Smiles broke around the room.
Finn wasn’t a stranger at Wylder. Most of the residents had lived in Evers Hollow before they ended up here. Pa worked on their cars at Ferris’ Garage before opting for an early retirement. Finn himself worked alongside him for three years back in high school.
He walked around the room to greet the men and women who’d watched him grow from a scrawny boy to an adult back in the Hollow they all called home. He’d developed visible muscles in the time since, but knew they only saw the boy he had been.
The sight of familiar faces reminded him how long it had been since he’d left Evers Hollow to seek his future.
Finn made his way back to his father’s side and gave him another hug. “Happy birthday. How’s your day?”
“Not bad. Won myself a handful of get out of jail free cards from Cartwright here.” He motioned to the man he’d been playing with. The bearded man clasped Finn’s hand in greeting.
A few Monopoly cards lay on the table. Wylder often used objects from the past to energize their residents. “That’s great. Ready to celebrate?”
“Four letter word?” Pa had a childlike hope in his eyes.
Finn nodded.
“Let’s get to it then. Tell me it’s from Betsy.”
“It’s from Betsy’s, with custard filling.”
Pa rubbed his stomach. “Ever consider asking her out?”
“I think her wife, Alessia, would have something to say about that.”
Pa chuckled as they moved down the hall. “You can’t blame me for asking. She’s an artist with cake.”
The couple opened Lightning Cakes five years ago. Betsy made the cakes and Alessia made the pastries with the help of their employees. The bakery was a huge success.
Stella met them in Pa’s room. Each room at Wylder was a small studio apartment with kitchenettes. Regular meals were served in the facility’s dining room. Pa’s held a small table with chairs, his favorite recliner, and his bedroom set from the old house.
The small, round decorated cake sat on the table. Stella took a picture of the two of them before they sang Happy Birthday . She cut the lemon-flavored cake. She handed Pa the first piece with a spoonful of berries on top. Then cut an enormous second piece and pushed it at Finn.
“Eat.”
He sat down and ate. His mom taught him long ago that Stella was not a woman to be argued with. At his insistence, she cut herself a sliver and joined them for a bit.
The leftover cake was stowed in the mini-fridge in the room. Pa was still licking his fork when Stella left.
Finn said, “I brought a surprise for you.”
“What’s that?”
He pulled a box out of his backpack. “Found a Battleship game that could fit in my bag.”
Pa’s brown eyes lit up. “It’s been forever since we played.”
“It’s been forever since you won.”
“I’m glad you don’t play cards.”
“You refused to teach me. Afraid I’d beat you.” He set up the two halves of the game.
Letter and number pairings filled the minutes. Finn looked at the number of ships he’d lost. Four. This was not a game he lost.
“Rough time at work?”
It had been, but Pa didn’t want to hear about last night’s car accident. He didn’t like bad endings. The ER rotation was difficult. These past weeks showed that no matter how hard he tried, there were some people that couldn’t be saved.
“Work is the same,” Finn said.
“You meet with Ray yet?”
“Had to reschedule.”
Pa swore. Finn ignored him. Ms. Magnolia’s stroke took precedence over a meeting with a real estate agent.
Plus, he was the one doing all the work on the house.
The inside still needed a fresh coat of paint, which he’d be doing himself.
The quote he’d received from a local painting company was too high.
“I went through more boxes. Got some questions. G-4.”
“Miss.” Pa’s voice sounded gruff. “I told you, all decisions are yours.”
“I found your wedding album.” Finn reached into his bag and pulled it out, setting it on the table between them.
Pa didn’t even glance at it. “H-7.”
He glanced at his board. “Hit—destroyer.” He stuck a red peg in one hole of the tiny plastic boat.
Pa leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, focused on an obvious victory. “Make your play.”
Finn studied his board. “A-10.”
“Miss.” His glee was obvious. His fingers rifled through the pegs compartment in celebration.
“I figured you’d want the album here.”
“You figured wrong. H-8.”
Finn sighed. “Hit and sunk—destroyer.”
“About time.” Pa started pulling pegs off his board, putting them away.
“I’ll leave the album here on the shelf for you, just in case.” Finn leaned over and placed it near the bed.
Pa snapped his game board closed and set it back in the box, his mouth now a thin line. “You leaving the game here or taking it with you?”
“It’s yours. I noticed it wasn’t in the game room.” Finn put his half away.
“I’ll keep it in here. Harley Conti chewed up all the Parcheesi pawns.”
“I hope he didn’t swallow them.”
“No, he spat them out,” said Pa. “It’s been hard on him, giving up tobacco. Stella lectured him.”
Finn grimaced. He’d had a few lectures from Stella as a child. She and her husband, Ty, lived next door to them for a few years before they had kids. She babysat him several times back then.
“Delicious cake. Good birthday.” Pa leaned back and rested his hands on his stomach.
Finn watched Pa distance himself. His normal routine every visit.
He’d talk about how much he loved his Clara, tell the stories of long ago—how he’d wooed her with wildflowers and hikes in North Carolina’s state parks.
The tangible though: the photos, the Irish double chain quilt she’d sewn for her hope chest as a young woman—Pa refused to touch them.
Finn pressed a hand against the back of his neck. What could he say? Every person had their way with grief. He glanced at his backpack, at the other thing he’d brought. There was no putting it off.
He pulled out his wrapped gift and handed it over. “I came across these last week.”
The wrapping came off easily. Two frames sat in Pa’s hands. He held the top frame by its edge as he looked at the long ago image of Finn and himself in front of his old truck. “Old Blue. You were just a pup then. You couldn’t even lift a tire.”
Finn’s biceps contracted as if in defense, as he rested his forearms on the table. “I can lift one now.”
Pa nodded, his gaze still caught by the old photo. “That you can, although you could use some fattening up. You’re forgetting to eat.”
Finn wouldn’t call it forgetting. Meals were long hours apart when multiple ambulances rolled in.
Thankfully, Pa didn’t press the issue while he studied the image of father and son. “You made a wonderful mechanic.”
“It was good training for my hands.” He’d spent hours under his and Riley Pierce’s tutelage working at Ferris’ garage.
“I know. Your mom would be proud of you becoming a doctor.” Pa set the frame down. “At the big house after the funeral, I heard it was you at the house with Magnolia when she had her stroke.”
“It was, but…”
Pa ran a hand over his face, glanced at Finn. “You gave the family time to say goodbye.”
“I know—it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“They said the pneumonia took her. I never thought...” He looked away.
Finn didn’t know what to say. His pa wasn’t one for emotion. This was the closest he’d come to discussing a difficult topic in a while.
The second frame lay facedown on the table. Battered from years of working on cars, his fingers touched the back gently. “This other one—it’s your mom, isn’t it?”
Finn nodded. “Thought it would make you smile.”
Pa hesitated. Would he hand it back to him? Finn held his breath.
He turned the frame over. “I’ll be.”
His parents stood side by side dressed like pirates, his mom’s eyes alive with laughter. A gentle smile took over Pa’s face. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he took the image in.
“That was the best Halloween we shared. I miss her. Makes it hard some nights even after all these years.”
“I know. I miss her too.” Finn laid a hand over Pa’s and squeezed. “She’d be proud of you.”
He looked wistful. “I suppose she would. Twelve years dry. Thanks to you and Riley.”
Finn took the moment for what it was. Enjoyed it. His mom’s passing made for some rough times when Pa decided to self-medicate his grief with whiskey. He forgot himself for a time, along with his job and his son, who needed him.
It had been Riley Pierce, the new owner of Ferris Garage, who’d had words with Pa after he ended up in the local lock-up for a night. Then again, after he found Finn one night, bloodied and bruised behind the garage, a victim of local bullies.
Riley was the one to get Pa enrolled in a treatment program and then drove him there.
No longer did Finn receive phone calls late at night to walk into town, collect the truck keys from the bartender, and drive Pa home.
Finn didn’t have his license; he was too young.
Every bartender who handed over the keys knew, but he’d never been pulled over.
Riley took Finn in while Pa was in the initial program and again when he went through a second time. Made sure he ate, taught him how to defend himself, and hired him on at the garage once he was old enough.
He’d done what Finn couldn’t. Riley restored their family.
Pa set the frame down, face up. “This thing with Magnolia—word is you were there to visit. That you rode in the ambulance.”
Finn’s muscles tightened. Damn gossips.
“I found some photos in one of Mom’s boxes. A stack of me and Rose. Mom made doubles. She wanted her to have them. I dropped by the big house, thinking I could get them to her.”
“You didn’t see her?”
“No, Ms. Magnolia wouldn’t give me Rose’s info.”
“Good. I wish you told me you’d gone to see her. Bad enough you spoke to her at the funeral. Two of you never had a chance. I knew. No matter what your mom said.”
Finn leaned forward. He hadn’t heard this before. “What did Mom say?”
Pa grumbled as if realizing he’d said too much. “Think it’ll rain?”
“Pa—what did she say?”
“Fine.” He grimaced. “Clara called her your acushla .”
“Loved one.” Finn reeled. His mom didn’t use Irish words lightly. “What else did she say?”
He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I can’t watch you fall for her again. She doesn’t deserve you.”
How could Pa know how he felt about Rose back then? He’d never shared with anyone.
Pa pushed his chair back and stood. “Sell the damn house.”