by Jen Peters
“That’s enough!” Maddy scolded, coming as close as her nerves would let her. “You guys are both stressed out about Seth, but you don’t need to take it out on each other.”
Caleb crossed his arms. “I’m just saying things I’ve wanted to for a long time. Adam needs to get down off his high horse so the rest of us can breathe.”
Adam glared, but kept his jaw clenched shut. His fists clenched as well, his hands raised a bit. Just ready for a fight.
“Come on, Adam,” Maddy said. “We’re going back to work.” She reminded herself that Adam was not Brock, that fist fights were not his normal way of solving problems. She ignored the brothers’ tight fists and the knot in her stomach, and tugged Adam toward the door. “You guys will let us know if Seth calls, right?”
Micah met her eyes. “Definitely.”
“Is Seth calling today?” Samuel asked.
Maddy had wondered before if something was going on with Samuel, but the confusion on his face now made it obvious. She had other concerns right now, though.
Adam kept a lid on his temper while Maddy dragged him away. Across the yard, through the admin building, back to his office, where she was likely to read him the riot act.
Instead, she hugged him.
Little thing that Maddy was, it was amazing how much strength there was in her hug. Or how much strength he could receive from her hug.
He held her for a long time, her hands meeting around his back, her head on his chest. He rested his cheek in the curls on top of her head, blowing softly if one got too close to his mouth.
When Adam’s heart rate finally slowed and his breathing became more regular, he pulled her around to his desk chair. He sat, tugged gently on her hand, and she settled comfortably in his lap.
He pulled her head close again. “Thank you,” he murmured.
She looked up at him, a soft smile on that beautiful face. “Anytime, cowboy. But I sure hope that doesn’t happen often”
He shook his head. “Hardly ever. I have to say I was surprised at Caleb. His accusation.”
Maddy was quiet for a long moment, then she tapped her hand on his chest, a steady rhythm that anchored him. “Now that you’re calm and hopefully thinking clearly, could there be any truth to what he said?”
“No, of course not. I know they can all do their jobs.” But a voice in his mind said, Then why don’t you let them do it?
The thought took him aback. He did let them do it. Didn’t he? Caleb was just prickly about him checking on things.
Wouldn’t you be prickly, too?
He tried to picture Caleb or Micah questioning him about renewing leases or making sure he got payroll out. They had discussed the solar wells and the new cross-fencing as a family, but Adam had pretty much taken the lead, told them what he wanted to do and why, and that was that.
If they came back with major concerns, of course he would listen. But if they were constantly checking to see who he had contacted about it or if he had ordered the materials…just how prickly would he get?
“Huh,” he said aloud. “Maybe Caleb has a point.”
Maddy’s hand stilled, but she didn’t look up. “You like to make sure everything will run smoothly,” she said. “Being in control is part of who you are, I think.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I wouldn’t say I’m a control freak—”
Maddy snorted.
“What? I wouldn’t!” He let his hand play with her hair. “But yeah, I figure if I can see problems coming, maybe I can solve them before they get too far out of hand.”
Maddy sat up with a gleam in her eye. “Head them off at the pass?”
Adam groaned dramatically. “Somebody’s been watching too many old westerns.”
He kissed her gently, amazed that a woman like her would be nestled in his arms right now. “Thank you again. Not just for in there, but here, calming me down, helping me think.”
“Anytime, cowboy.” She kissed him back, smoothing the back of her hand across his hair.
A moment later, his cheek still resting on the top of her head, Maddy shifted. “Adam? What’s going on with your dad?”
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not sure. He’d like to convince himself it’s normal aging, but he’s definitely having memory issues.”
She looked up at him. “Alzheimer’s?”
“I hope not. But we have a doctor’s appointment in the city tomorrow.”
Maddy traced a pattern on the back of his shirt, then tipped her head up. “If you’re going to Grand Junction, could you mail a postcard for me?”
Adam stiffened. “You’re going to let someone know where you are?”
She shook her head adamantly. “No, just that I’m all right. And that’s why I want you to mail it from down there—it can’t be traced to Beaver Falls that way.”
True. It would take a lot for someone to start in Grand Junction and find them way out at the ranch. Even Beaver Falls wasn’t that close. “I guess I can do that.”
“Thanks, cowboy.” She snuggled in again.
He held her close, thinking of all the complications going on right now. Her problem with her ex, his dealings with the Lazy S, the leads he’d found on Mrs. Evans, trying new technology on the ranch, worries about Dad.
He sighed again, kissed her hair, and finally pulled away. There was still work to be done, and maybe it would take his mind off everything else.
26
“Come on, Dad, let’s get this over with.” Adam watched his father straighten his bolo tie and take one last swipe at his hair. What would he do if the doctor gave them the worst news?
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Dad said. “Old Doc Baker won’t mind if we’re a few minutes late.”
“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Adam said, ushering his father out the door. “But he’s on vacation this week. And I figured since he wasn’t around, we’d go into Grand Junction and see someone who specializes in people your age.”
“Who? I don’t want to see anyone else. Doc Baker knows me, even if I haven’t seen him in ten years. This new guy better be good.”
Adam prepared himself for the explosion. “It’s a new gal, not a new guy. Dr. Susan Jacobs.”
Dad whipped his head around. “A woman? No way. Nunh-huh. I’m not seeing no woman doctor about my private life.”
“Dad, come on. It’s not like you’re going to have to strip for a full physical.” He motioned to the open truck door. “I’m sure she’ll listen to your heart and take your blood pressure, and then just ask questions.”
His father glared. “Oh, so now this is a quiz?”
Adam let out a long sigh, wishing Maddy were with them. She seemed to have a calming influence on everyone. “Dad, look. Something’s wrong. You know it, I know it, and the good Lord knows it. So let’s go find out what it is.”
The old man’s face froze in a grimace. He climbed into the truck, waving off Adam’s hand of help.
Adam tried to make small talk on the hour-long drive, but Dad kept his stony silence.
They parked in front of the medical center. The foyer was deceptively inviting, and then it was the elevator and hallways until they reached the doctor’s office. Adam’s father remained quiet, but his face grew paler and tighter the closer they got.
Adam sent a prayer heavenward for strength and courage. And if possible, Lord, for an easy answer to all this. Something we can cope with.
Dad glared the whole time the cheery young nurse was taking his temperature and blood pressure. And then they waited.
Dr. Jacobs, when she finally arrived, was older than Adam and younger than his father. Her red hair showed a hint of gray and was almost as curly as Maddy’s. She entered with an air of competence and a compassionate face.
“Hi, I’m Susan Jacobs,” she said, extending her hand to each of them. “You must be Samuel Black, and you’re…”
“Adam Black. His son.”
“I’m glad you’re here.” Her smile was kind, and
if his father didn’t react, Adam’s own tension eased a bit. She sat on a stool and studied her iPad for a moment.
“I understand you’re having some memory problems,” she said. “It looks like you haven’t seen Dr. Baker for some time. Why don’t you tell me what’s been happening?”
Dad looked at his hands, then his boots. “Can’t remember names,” he mumbled.
Dr. Jacobs scooted a little closer. “That happens to all of us, and is rather common once we get older,” she assured him. “There are a lot of things that can cause memory issues, some of them relatively simple to fix, some of them not.”
Dad mumbled something.
“I’m sorry?” Dr. Jacobs said.
“I said it’s the ‘not’ that worries me,” Dad said.
Adam put a hand on his arm. The connection seemed to help both of them.
Dr. Jacobs leaned closer, an intent look on her face. “I know memory problems automatically make people think of Alzheimer’s or something similar, and those are frightening things. But perhaps there’s another physical reason for the problems—there are several possibilities. And even if we end up with a dementia diagnosis, it’s far better to know early than late. Right?”
Dad looked at the wall, but Adam latched onto her comment about other physical reasons. “What other things could cause this?”
Dr. Jacobs shook her head. “Let’s check everything out, first.”
A brain tumor flashed through Adam’s mind. That would be even worse—was that why she wasn’t getting specific?
But Dr. Jacobs had continued. “Mr. Black, besides forgetting names, what other problems have you had?”
Dad looked back down. “I go someplace to do something, and when I get there, I can’t remember what I came for. More than the usual.”
Adam spoke up. “A few weeks ago, he wrote a check for a large bill, not remembering that we had made the payment in February. And then we were waiting to Skype with my brother in Iraq, and Dad forgot why we were there. Even though he was the one to remind us in the morning.”
Dad’s face turned red with embarrassment, but Dr. Jacobs nodded. “When did this start? Has it gotten worse lately?”
Dad shrugged, but Adam said, “I started noticing things about six months ago, but it’s gotten worse.”
The doctor nodded. “Do you get confused in the middle of a sentence or a conversation, Mr. Black?”
Dad shrugged again, but Adam thought back. There had been family times when his father had looked confused, and more times when he’d trailed off in the middle of a sentence. He told Dr. Jacobs.
“Do you ever leave something on the stove and forget it?”
Dad shook his head. “Don’t cook anything.”
“What about getting lost when you drive somewhere?”
“We’re ranchers,” Adam said. “There are three of us boys helping run things, plus ranch hands. It’s usually someone else who runs errands.”
Dad looked at Adam. “I took Cobbler out the other day, got an idea I should check the water levels up on the south range. And…and…”
“And you couldn’t get home?” Adam tried to keep the worry out of his voice.
Dad’s chin trembled. “I couldn’t even find the pond. I’ve been riding up there for more’n fifty years, and I couldn’t find the blasted pond!”
Dr. Jacobs broke the silence after a moment. “Tell me about your eating. Any changes in appetite? Or in what you eat?”
“Just regular stuff. Uncle Dirt does the food for all of us.”
She raised her eyebrows at the name, but kept on with her questions. “What about sleeping? Any changes there?”
Dad’s face brightened. “Yes! And that’s what I figured this was from. It takes longer to fall asleep, but the main problem is…” He blushed. “Is all the times I have to get up in the night to use the bathroom.”
Dr. Jacobs smiled. “That’s pretty normal for a man of your age. Do you get back to sleep afterwards?”
Dad shook his head. “Not hardly a wink until sunrise. And then when I should be getting up, I sort of crash into sleep. Had to start setting an alarm.”
Adam didn’t have anything to say, just patted his father’s arm in solidarity. Or comfort. Or something.
Dr. Jacobs made some notes. Finally, she spoke again. “We’re going to do two quick mental exams. First, can you repeat these three things for me? Pencil. Car. Dog.” She spoke each of them clearly.
Dad looked surprised. “Sure. Pencil, car, dog. What’s with that?”
Dr. Jacobs just smiled and reached for a piece of paper. “Now I want you to draw a clock, and then put the hands to nine o’clock.”
Adam watched, feeling like this was a kindergarten test that Mia would have no trouble passing. But when his father put two numbers wrong and had the minute hand showing nine-thirty, not nine straight up, he began to worry. Please, God, no. Not that.
Dad pushed the paper back to the doctor. “What’s the big deal with a clock?”
Dr. Jacobs smiled. “Thank you, that was great. Now, what were those three items I had you repeat?”
“Uh, pencil…truck, no, car. And, um.” Dad’s face drew tight as he concentrated. “Horse!” he finally called triumphantly.
“Good, thanks,” Dr. Jacobs said.
“Good?” Adam was aghast. “That was good?”
His father gave him a puzzled look.
Dr. Jacobs turned to Adam. “Your dad did just fine. We need to assess where he’s at before we know how to help.”
The doctor spent the next twenty minutes asking simple questions about the date and season, where they were, and if he could repeat three words, followed by simple instructions like folding a paper and putting it on the floor, or counting backwards.
They talked some more, and then Dr. Jacobs said, “First, I think we need to get you some help for a decent night’s sleep. Don’t drink anything after eight p.m., and try some melatonin about half an hour before bed.”
Dad turned to Adam. “See, I told you it was something easy.”
Adam gave a half-smile. After those questions, he sensed that Dr. Jacobs wasn’t done.
“I’d like to run some tests, though. Now, don’t panic,” she said as Dad blanched. “There are several physical issues that could cause memory problems—oxygen flow to the brain, a vitamin deficiency or even a previous stroke, in addition to the bigger issues like Alzheimer’s. So let’s find out about those first, shall we?”
Dad was silent, so Adam spoke. “Wouldn’t we know if he’d had a stroke?”
“Not necessarily. TIAs—mini-strokes—especially can be silent. You might not know you had one except for the effects.”
“Will tests show that up?”
Dr. Jacobs paused. “It won’t show the stroke specifically, but if brain tissue is damaged, that will show in a MRI scan.”
Dementia. Strokes. Permanent damage. Adam looked at his father, weather-beaten, worried, and the rock in Adam’s life. I can’t do without him, Lord.
Dr. Jacobs typed into her iPad, then looked up. “The lab requests will be waiting at the front desk for you. I’d like to see you back when those results are in.” She stood, and the Black men stood with her. “It’s been nice to meet you. Try not to worry too much.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” Adam said. “We appreciate it.”
They went across the hall to the lab for the first of Dad’s tests. Nine small vials of blood later, they headed back to the truck. Adam still felt the weight of the possibilities, but Dad’s steps were much lighter. “See, I told you it wasn’t anything to worry about! I probably just need more vitamins.”
Adam nodded, not able to speak. Not after watching Dad’s failure with a simple clock drawing. The only words he could get out were silent ones for the Lord. Please, God, give us the strength to get through this. Help me be able to help Dad. And please, please, I know You know best. But if it’s possible with Your will, could You please make it an oxygen problem, not Alzheimer’s?
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27
With his dad settled in his living room recliner, Adam waited for the scheduler to call. He had the breeding schedule to figure out and a new study on pasture fertilization he should read, but he couldn’t concentrate.
Would he need a power of attorney? It should be written while Dad was still competent. Or would Dad just sign the ranch over to the brothers completely? Or would he refuse to do anything?
Adam picked up a trophy on the desk, a crystal bull from winning Grand Champion a few years ago. He turned it over in his hands. Wished it were a crystal ball.
He hated to think of what Dad would become if he didn’t have the ranch to run. What would he do with his time? Even just riding out, he’d have to have someone with him so he wouldn’t get lost. Would one of the brothers do that? A ranch hand? Would they hire someone?
Adam put the crystal bull down, sat at his desk, and pulled the research article toward him. Fifteen seconds later, he was up and pacing again.
“Adam?” Maddy poked her head in. “Are you okay?”
He looked at her, this lovely woman with her own load of troubles. He didn’t want to pile more on top of them, and it wasn’t like she could do anything to help anyway.
“No, I’m fine,” he said. “Just need to think.”
“Okay,” she said cheerfully. “Let me know if you want to talk it out. I’ve got another hour before Mia gets off the bus.”
She left, and Adam strode back to his desk. He flipped to a clean sheet of paper in his notepad and started writing, bold strokes slashing across the page. 1. If Alzheimer’s: A) Research treatments and therapies. B) Start looking for someone to be a companion. 2. If stroke: A) What changes to prevent more? B) Therapy to recover brain function. 3. If heart/oxygen-related A) meet with cardiologist…
Just writing steps down put Adam back in control. If he could see a plan to deal with whatever outcome, they could get through this. They’d need outside help—the three brothers would have an extra load picking up Dad’s work anyway. They could help with his care, but couldn’t afford for any of them to give up ranch work.
