33. Duke
THIRTY-THREE
DUKE
After I was told the life expectancy of someone with dementia was four to eight years, I imagined I’d be putting Dad into the ground, not moving him into a new house.
But there we were.
On the edge of the property at Haven Pines sat the newly finished, semi-independent homes.
They were still maintained by Haven Pines staff, but each small home was a private, detached living space for residents who qualified.
A nurse would visit him daily, and there was even a button in each house that alerted staff if an emergency were to arise.
In the small community, residents had opportunities like boating, knitting, pickleball, even yoga.
Fucking yoga .
I looked around Dad’s new living room and clenched my jaw. The community was too secluded. Too distant from the main building and staff. Too far from help if Dad had any kind of emergency. I didn’t like it despite my siblings going on and on about how great it was.
“Doesn’t look out on the back forty acres, but it sure as hell beats being neighbors with Winnie McCallister.”
I grunted a laugh. Ms. Winnie was pushing her ninety-eighth birthday and was infamous for her lack of filter. If she didn’t like breakfast or the weather or how your face looked, you’d hear about it.
I shrugged. “I kind of like the old bird.”
“You would,” Dad scoffed. “Kindred spirits.”
He shook his head and walked another lap around the small living space before shoving at the recliner. “I don’t like this.”
I stepped up next to him and helped him move it two feet to the left. “Better?”
“No, but I suppose it’ll do.”
I laughed to myself and reached behind me into the small cooler I’d brought. I handed Dad the bottle, and his eyebrow arched upward.
“To celebrate your new move.” I twisted off the top and handed it to Dad.
He didn’t seem to notice it was a nonalcoholic beer and sank down on the plush couch with a sigh. “Home sweet home.”
I sat next to him, taking a sip of my own bottle. “It’s a nice place. I’m happy for you.”
“Bullshit.” Dad smiled as he took a sip of his beer. “No one I know hates change more than you.”
I shook my head and considered. He wasn’t wrong. “Feels like this past year has been nothing but change thrown in my face.”
“And was it all bad?”
My mind immediately filled with images of Sylvie’s sweet face. “No, sir. It wasn’t all bad.”
“Good, ’cause I’ve got one more to throw at you.”
I shifted, eyeing my father and attempting to gauge his level of clarity.
According to his medical team, the clinical trial had been a resounding success.
I could think of only a handful of bad episodes in the last month, and that alone felt like a miracle.
We had more calm days with our dad, and for that I’d be forever grateful.
Dad sighed. “You can’t come see me every day.”
My face scrunched. “What? Dad, come on . . .”
He lifted his hand. “I’m serious. There’s no reason for you to come lurking around every day. You can’t baby me, August.”
I swallowed hard at Dad’s use of my real name.
“Now I want to see you, I do, but you put your entire life on hold for me. For us. There will be days when I need you.” Dad tapped his temple. “You know better than I do that I’m not always all right up here, but I also don’t feel like I’m drowning. I got your mother, and we?—”
I frowned, an arrow piercing my chest as he spoke. “Mom’s gone, Dad.”
A flicker of sorrow washed over his features as if he were reliving her death all over again. I wanted to scream, to slam my fist against anything to help him stop reliving the shock of her death all over again.
“I know that.” Dad’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Just don’t always like to remember it is all.
” He raised his chin and pinned me in place with his bright-blue eyes.
“The doctors said I was safe enough to be here. I can live out my life as best as I can with the time I’ve got. But you have to do the same, Son.”
I pressed my fingers into my eye sockets. “What are you saying, Dad? I’m not welcome here?”
Dad’s laugh startled me. “Course not, you idiot. What I am saying is you don’t have to run yourself ragged worrying about me. I got plenty of people in my business around here. Pretty soon you’re going to have your own family to stress over.”
I nodded. The weight of the stress, worrying about how I was going to manage it all, had silently become unbearable.
How did he know?
Emotion burned behind my eyelids. “She’s a King, Dad.”
Dad’s eyes paused as my words sank in. His lips pursed. “Do you love her?”
“Loving her is like breathing.” The admission tumbled out of me in a whoosh of breath, without hesitation.
Dad considered, taking a sip of his beer and looking out onto the warm wood of the living room floor. “Then I don’t guess her last name makes much of a difference, does it?”
I clamped my hand on Dad’s strong shoulder, unable to tell him how much his easy acceptance of my love for Sylvie truly meant. The lump in my throat wouldn’t dislodge. “Thanks, Dad.”
My knee bounced, and I ran a damp palm down my leg. “I’m going to give her Mom’s ring. I plan to ask for her father’s blessing, even though he’ll tell me to go to hell.” I dipped my chin in resolution. “But I’ll give it to her anyway.”
Dad patted my knee and squeezed. “That’s a good man.
You don’t need his permission, but no one can say you didn’t try to make it right.
” Dad thought for a moment. “You know your mom’s father hated me, right?
” My eyes narrowed, searching his face for signs of truth.
“Yeah, he couldn’t stand that his Juney had fallen for a Sullivan when Russell King had been knocking at her door.
Her father said she’d be wasting her life on a man like me. ”
“Russell King?” Even the mere mention of Sylvie’s father had my nerve endings firing. “Is that why he hates us all so much?”
Dad shrugged. “Russell has always had hate in his heart. Nothing was ever good enough. No amount of winning was ever enough for him. He wanted her, but she wanted me, and that pissed him right off. Went a long time buying things from under me. Undermining business deals so I’d suffer, but I didn’t care.
If you ask me”—Dad leaned over and winked—“I got the one thing he could never buy. Your mother’s heart.
Held on to that precious gift with both hands for as long as I could. ”
A few of the pieces of the Sullivan–King mystery clicked into place.
I sighed and sat back. “I guess it makes sense. He’s always had a chip on his shoulder.
Been bitter.” I let my mind wander over the small bits of information we’d learned about the Kings and Sullivans in the last year.
“Maybe Lark was right... this whole thing started with and has continued because of some unhinged love triangle.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Wild.”
“Sure, love makes men do stupid shit, but it’s always helped him to have the Sinclairs in his pocket, ears open for anything he could use against us. Those twins were playing both sides, just like their daddy and his daddy before him did.”
Playing both sides? Wait... twins? I paused. “Sinclair?” Something about that name tumbled around and scratched my brain.
“Who’s that?” Dad’s eyes searched my face.
I shifted to face him. “You said Sinclair—that the Kings have always had them in their pocket. What did you mean?”
Dad’s eyes shifted to mine, and confusion clouded their color. “I didn’t say that.” Defensiveness and fear pitched his voice higher.
My heart raced. The last thing we needed was for Dad to panic. Today was supposed to be a good day. New beginnings. I planted my hand on his forearm. “You’re right. Sorry, Dad, I must have misheard you.”
He blinked, and I knew we were moments from a meltdown. I hated that I’d pushed him too far, too fast, without reading the signs that I’d lost him to his own jumbled inner thoughts. “Do you want to watch a show, or should I unload a few more boxes?”
Dad scrubbed a hand on the back of his neck and sighed, though he was still simmering with agitation. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll rest for a while.”
I swallowed back the bile that rose in the back of my throat. “No problem. Let’s get you situated.”
I helped my dad get comfortable, and within minutes he was out cold, but there was something there in what he’d said. The only twins I knew of were Bowlegs and Bootsy and as far as I knew, they’d lived their lives on the fringes of Outtatowner for as long as I could recall.
Something wasn’t settling right, and Bootsy just may have the answers we’d been looking for.