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Authors: Steena Holmes
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back to her parents. She shouldn’t. If anything, he was the guilty one.
Maybe he’d just tell her to consider the garden hers. Lord knew he couldn’t do any pickling or jarring like Dottie would have. He also needed to do some cleaning. It had been a while since he cleaned the floors or the bathroom. How Dottie kept the house spotless was beyond him. Sometimes, he wondered whether the house was too large for one man.
Jack pushed himself up from the chair and groaned. His body sure was stiff today. More so than yesterday.
“Leaving already?” Kenny asked.
Jack shook his head. “Just heading to the can.”
Doug stood up as well. “I could go for another coffee and fritter. They sure taste good today.”
Kenny snorted. “When don’t they?”
Halfway to the restroom, Jack called over his shoulder, “Might as well grab me one too. And a refill.” He ignored Doug’s muttering. After all his winnings last night, Jack knew the old man could afford it. He’d eat his fritter and drink another cup of coffee and then head back to the farm. He had a hard time calling it home lately. Home was supposed to be where the heart was, but with Dottie gone and Emmie out of his life, there was no heart left in that house.
Now it was only an old, empty farmhouse filled with memories of laughter and love.
CHAPTER EIGHT
S eptember 3
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, alone. There is a single candle flickering beside me. Jack is a sensitive sleeper and would probably wake up if he noticed the kitchen light on.
There’s a cup of tea in front of me, but I don’t remember pouring it. Just like I don’t remember putting Mary to bed or baking the Dutch apple pie sitting on the counter. I know Jack didn’t bake it. He can never get the recipe right.
I also don’t remember what we did today. I don’t remember any of it. I think I remember being out in the garden, but it could have been yesterday or last year.
I can’t rely on my memory anymore. I get glimpses of things that happen, but when I ask Jack, he just gives me a weird look and pats my hand, telling me not to worry so much. Of course I’m going to worry; I used to have a crystal-clear memory. I need to know what is happening to me. I need to remember.
What if I do something that could hurt someone? What if I take the wrong medication, or forget to take it? What if I take Mary someplace and then leave her there, forgetting that I took her in the first place? No, not Mary. Emmie. Emmie. Why do I keep confusing the two?
My father was like this. Alzheimer’s is a nightmare. It’s hell on earth—except the ones who live it are the family members. It was horrible to watch him lose the life he’d built for us, his family. It was hard to see him forget who we were.
Please God, I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want to forget Mary. I don’t want to lose Jack. Not again. Losing him the first time almost killed me. If it weren’t for Doug and Mary…I can’t lose anyone else in my life.
Peter glanced in the rearview mirror and knew he wouldn’t have been able to keep the smile off his face if he’d tried. Emma bounced in the backseat as he pulled into the local coffee shop’s driveway.
When he’d asked Emma where she wanted to go on their date, her first choice would have been his last. He figured she’d want to go to the local fast-food place, or even Brewster’s Bakery to see Shelly Belle and Jan. But instead, she wanted to go to the local donut shop, where Megan would often visit the drive-thru for coffee.
“I’ve never been inside, Daddy. Papa and I used to go through there”—she pointed to the drive-thru entrance—“and get tiny donuts.”
Peter pulled into a parking space and shut off the engine. He twisted in his seat to look at her. “You used to come here?” She’d been so close, only blocks away, and they never knew it.
Emma’s attention was focused on the store in front of them. She nodded. “Yep. I even saw Mommy a few
Maybe he’d just tell her to consider the garden hers. Lord knew he couldn’t do any pickling or jarring like Dottie would have. He also needed to do some cleaning. It had been a while since he cleaned the floors or the bathroom. How Dottie kept the house spotless was beyond him. Sometimes, he wondered whether the house was too large for one man.
Jack pushed himself up from the chair and groaned. His body sure was stiff today. More so than yesterday.
“Leaving already?” Kenny asked.
Jack shook his head. “Just heading to the can.”
Doug stood up as well. “I could go for another coffee and fritter. They sure taste good today.”
Kenny snorted. “When don’t they?”
Halfway to the restroom, Jack called over his shoulder, “Might as well grab me one too. And a refill.” He ignored Doug’s muttering. After all his winnings last night, Jack knew the old man could afford it. He’d eat his fritter and drink another cup of coffee and then head back to the farm. He had a hard time calling it home lately. Home was supposed to be where the heart was, but with Dottie gone and Emmie out of his life, there was no heart left in that house.
Now it was only an old, empty farmhouse filled with memories of laughter and love.
CHAPTER EIGHT
S eptember 3
I’m sitting at the kitchen table, alone. There is a single candle flickering beside me. Jack is a sensitive sleeper and would probably wake up if he noticed the kitchen light on.
There’s a cup of tea in front of me, but I don’t remember pouring it. Just like I don’t remember putting Mary to bed or baking the Dutch apple pie sitting on the counter. I know Jack didn’t bake it. He can never get the recipe right.
I also don’t remember what we did today. I don’t remember any of it. I think I remember being out in the garden, but it could have been yesterday or last year.
I can’t rely on my memory anymore. I get glimpses of things that happen, but when I ask Jack, he just gives me a weird look and pats my hand, telling me not to worry so much. Of course I’m going to worry; I used to have a crystal-clear memory. I need to know what is happening to me. I need to remember.
What if I do something that could hurt someone? What if I take the wrong medication, or forget to take it? What if I take Mary someplace and then leave her there, forgetting that I took her in the first place? No, not Mary. Emmie. Emmie. Why do I keep confusing the two?
My father was like this. Alzheimer’s is a nightmare. It’s hell on earth—except the ones who live it are the family members. It was horrible to watch him lose the life he’d built for us, his family. It was hard to see him forget who we were.
Please God, I don’t want that to happen to me. I don’t want to forget Mary. I don’t want to lose Jack. Not again. Losing him the first time almost killed me. If it weren’t for Doug and Mary…I can’t lose anyone else in my life.
Peter glanced in the rearview mirror and knew he wouldn’t have been able to keep the smile off his face if he’d tried. Emma bounced in the backseat as he pulled into the local coffee shop’s driveway.
When he’d asked Emma where she wanted to go on their date, her first choice would have been his last. He figured she’d want to go to the local fast-food place, or even Brewster’s Bakery to see Shelly Belle and Jan. But instead, she wanted to go to the local donut shop, where Megan would often visit the drive-thru for coffee.
“I’ve never been inside, Daddy. Papa and I used to go through there”—she pointed to the drive-thru entrance—“and get tiny donuts.”
Peter pulled into a parking space and shut off the engine. He twisted in his seat to look at her. “You used to come here?” She’d been so close, only blocks away, and they never knew it.
Emma’s attention was focused on the store in front of them. She nodded. “Yep. I even saw Mommy a few
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