by D J Monroe
“They read your grandfather’s will today,” his dad said, coming straight to the point as usual.
Nate’s grandfather, had been dead nearly six months. Since he’d not been invited to the formal reading of the will, he assumed it did not concern him. So, he’d simply forgotten all about it.
“How did that go?” Nate asked.
After the death of Nate’s real grandfather, his grandmother married a man named Collin Palmer. This man already had a son named Charles. He adopted Nate’s dad and his sister, Everett and Tammy, giving them his name. A year or so later, his grandparents had another child, his Aunt Judy. So, the man who Nate knew as his grandfather was really no blood relation at all. Collin Palmer was the only father and grandfather they knew. And, as far as Nate knew, he’d been a good man.
“Pretty much as you’d expect,” his dad said, interrupting his thoughts. “Charles and his sister split the insurance and any money from the estate after all the bills are paid.”
“I’m sorry, dad,” Nate said, truly meaning it. He knew his dad had always felt like somewhat of an outcast after his mother died even though he only admitted it one time, in a drunken rage. Nate, on the other hand had never felt anything but love and acceptance from his grandfather.
“Not to worry. Charles is practically on his death bed. Some kind of cancer. Looks like his sister is going to benefit the most from everything,” his dad explained. “But there is something else.”
“Oh, yeah?” Nate asked, curiosity piqued.
“He left the house to me.”
“The house! Really?” Nate was surprised. The house in question was where his dad had grown up. A big, three story place, one of the grandest homes in their small town of Lost Creek. Nate loved the place, had spent hours of his childhood there, exploring the rooms. It was almost like a museum.
“What do you plan to do with it?” Nate asked in spite of himself. His father’s health was such that he had to live in an assisted living facility with round the clock staff.
“I’m going to sell it,” his dad said. “My health isn’t going to improve much and it’s a big place. Too big for me to keep up with. It needs a family, children.”
Was that a mean little stab at Nate’s gay lifestyle and the fact that he’d moved as far away as he could? Whether it was or not, he decided to ignore it. What his dad said, made sense but Nate hated the idea of the house being put up for sale.
“That’s why I’m calling,” his dad said, bringing his attention back to the conversation at hand. “I need you to come up here and get it ready to go on the market.”
“Me?” Nate questioned.
“Yeah, there’s no way I can do it. Not with the shape I’m in.”
“But I have a job and—” Nate began to protest.
“It shouldn’t take long,” his dad said. “Don’t you have vacation time or something?”
“But-,” Nate began. He’d wanted to use his vacation to go to the beach. Maybe hook up with someone he could spend a little time with.
“If any major repairs are needed, I’ll pay a professional to do them,” his dad continued as if he hadn’t said a word.
Nate tried to remember the last time he’d seen the old house. It had looked to be in pretty good shape structurally, not in need of a roof or anything like that. Mostly, he remembered the clutter, the collection of things from a lifetime of living.
And then he vaguely remembered that his grandmother had gotten involved with some ghost hunters or a spiritual medium or maybe both. That was triggered by someone, maybe a child going missing. He couldn’t remember the details. When he’d asked, no one wanted to talk about it except to say that his grandmother had never really covered from the loss.
Nate shook his head. Like most families, there were too many tangled stories to unravel.
“I’ve already contacted a real estate agent. They have a key,” his dad said, bringing him back to the present. “You’re supposed to contact someone named Creed Autry. They’re expecting you Friday afternoon.”
Well, evidently, his dad had made that decision for him. The conversation ended much as all conversations ended with his father. Nate was left with no other choice except to leave as early as he could on Friday for Lost Creek to see what he could do.
As he turned his attention back to his article, it dawned on him that he remembered someone named Creed Autry from high school. Had to be the same one. He Googled the name and came up with a Facebook page that looked like it hadn’t been updated for months but not much else.
As Nate returned to work on his article, he tried to picture Creed. They hadn’t traveled in the same circles, mostly because Creed was a year behind him in school. All he could remember was a skinny, scruffy looking kid with curly brown hair. Creed had been pretty much a loner, always running around taking pictures of activities and such. There were rumors that he was gay but Nate never tried to find out, thinking they were just that, rumors.
Another memory regarding Creed Autry brought Nate to an abrupt halt, his fingers grew still and hovered over the keyboard.
No. He shook his head and forced himself to go back to work pushing that memory as far away as he could. No, he refused to even go there.
Three: Lost in Lost Creek
Creed Autry grabbed a handful of change from the blue bowl on the kitchen counter. He smiled with relief as he counted out the quarters, dimes and nickels. This was just enough to buy gasoline to get out to Julia’s house and then to the real estate agency where he worked part-time as a photographer. Maybe he could ask his boss, Rick, for an advance on his paycheck.
As he headed for the door, he reached for his beloved camera {kind} resting on the table. Slinging it over his shoulder felt like he’d just made contact with an old friend, reassuring, comforting.
“We’ll make it, old buddy,” he said to the camera as he locked the apartment door behind him. “Times are tough right now but we’ll make it.”
A month earlier, Creed had lost his job as a photographer for the local newspaper when it downsized from a daily to a weekly. He was currently trying to make ends meet with this part-time gig while he figured out his next move.
On his way out of the building, he stopped by the building superintendent’s door and knocked. His rent was late and while he waited, Creed rehearsed the little speech he’d already planned. He could come up with the first half of his rent in a week and then he’d have the rest in two weeks. He had no idea what would happen after that but, at this point, he was taking it one day at a time. Thank goodness all utilities were included because there would barely be enough left over for food and gas.
He hated to but he could always eat at Julia’s place if he had to.
Creed knocked again, harder this time. Again, he waited patiently by the door. Mr. Rogers, was an elderly gentleman and sometimes it took him a few minutes to get to the door. In fact, lately, he’d seen another, younger man with Mr. Rogers who appeared to be in training. Meanwhile, several tenants came and went, none of them even looking in his direction.
Which reminded Creed that even in this small town where he’d grown up, he might as well be invisible.
He knocked a third time, even louder than before, and waited a few more minutes. Finally, he decided Mr. Rogers either wasn’t at home or just wasn’t answering the door. It was Friday, maybe he’d taken the afternoon off. Or maybe he was taking a nap.
Creed was disappointed. He would feel better if he actually talked to the man face to face. It would be better able to judge his reaction that way. Instead, Creed scribbled a note on the pad he always carried and slid it under the door.
It wasn’t optimal but it would have to do for now.
After stopping to put gas in his car, he headed for his sister’s house on the other side of town. Creed always smiled when the farmhouse came into view. Julia had done well for herself. She’d married her high school sweetheart who was a local police officer. They had three rambunctious boys and she ran her own craft
supply business from home. On top of that, she cared for their ailing mother. And she did everything with a smile. Creed often wondered how she had the time and energy for it all.
“Sis, I’m here,” Creed called from just inside the front door. The house smelled of lemons and he took a deep breath.
“Right on time, as always,” Julia said, greeting him with a big hug.
“I try,” he said, hugging her back and planting a kiss on top of her blonde head. He thought she smelled like peaches.
“Want something to drink?” Julia asked, leading him toward the kitchen.
“Sure,” Creed said.
Julia turned and looked him up and down. “And you look like you could do with something to eat.”
Creed smiled. “It shows, huh.”
“It shows.” Shaking her head, Julia went about preparing him a ham sandwich with pickles and chips while Creed took a seat at the breakfast bar. “You need a good man to take care of you,” she added with a wink.
Creed laughed. “Fat chance of that happening here in Lost Creek.”
Julia shook her head and placed the food in front of him.
“Thanks, sis.”
“Any luck in the job search?” she asked, leaning on her elbows across from him, resting her chin in her hands.
“A few,” he lied.
“Liar,” she said, with a little knowing smile.
Creed let that go and changed the subject. “How is she?”
“Mom’s having a pretty good day today,” Julia said. “At least she knew who I was this morning.”
“Good,” Creed said, taking a bite out of his sandwich. It hurt the most when his mother didn’t recognize them and those days were becoming more and more frequent. “I hope she recognizes me, too.”
“Most of the time she thinks you’re dad but the doctors tell me that we should just roll with it,” Julia told him. “Arguing with her only makes her more confused and upset.”
Creed thought that made sense and nodded.
“She’s had all of her meds and a shower. Couldn’t get her to eat breakfast. Right now she’s sleeping,” Julia said, reaching for her purse that hung over a nearby bar stool. “And I shouldn’t be gone any longer than usual.”
“Take your time,” Creed told her. “I don’t have a specific time to be at the real estate office so we’ll be fine here until you get back.”
Julia kissed him on the cheek and headed out the door for her weekly grocery shopping.
Creed finished his lunch, poured himself another glass of iced tea and went about tidying up the kitchen. This small task was the least he could do. The onset of Alzheimer’s disease made it impossible for their mother to live alone. Being the eldest of the two and having the most stable home life, Julia had taken on full responsibility of caring for her.
Once the kitchen was in order, Creed tiptoed down the hall to his mother’s room. The door was open just slightly and he peeked in. She was sleeping soundly, looking small and fragile in the big, four poster bed that had been hers for as long as he could remember. She looked just like a child curled up against her pillows, her face relaxed in sleep, her silvery hair (when had it turned nearly completely gray like that?) curling around her heart-shaped face. She looked so much older than her real age.
When the doctors had diagnosed her with Alzheimer’s, just a few months earlier, both he and Julia had been devastated. Alzheimer’s was an old person’s disease. His mom had just turned sixty and yet the disease had ravaged her mind making her act and look much older. The bad thing was, at first, she’d known what was happening to her. But the disease had progressed quickly. Now, Creed was just grateful when she recognized him as her son.
When she’d almost burned down her house by putting a paper towel in the oven, Julia insisted their mother come to live with her. She had set up her spare bedroom to look as much like their mother’s room as possible with her own furniture, surrounded by her own things. The least he could do was come and sit with her when Julia had errands to run, like today. Just as he was about to step away from the door, her eyes popped open and she sat up slowly looking confused.
“Hey,” Creed said, moving into the room slowly so as not to startle her.
At first she pulled away from him, moving back against the headboard of the bed as if he was going to hurt her.
“It’s okay,” Creed assured her. “It’s just me, Creed.”
Finally, a smile spread across her face and lit up her eyes. “My darling,” she cooed.
Creed knew she was mistaking him for someone else. He continued to smile at her as he sat on the edge of the bed and took both of her hands in his.
“I was hoping you’d come by to see me today,” she said, a more playful look on her face now. “I have some big news.”
“And what news is that?” Creed asked, marveling at the softness of her hands, despite the years of hard work caring for her family.
“You’re going to be a father,” she said with a little giggle in her voice and squeezed his fingers. “Isn’t that wonderful news.”
Creed hid his emotions behind the smile plastered onto his face. Again, she thought Creed was his father. Perhaps he looked like his dad when they were young. Perhaps she was just living in a happier time in her mind. Either way, he wasn’t about to do anything to stifle that sweet, innocent smile and the happiness dancing in her watery blue eyes.
“That’s wonderful,” he said, kissing her fingers.
“I hope it’s a boy,” she said, tracing around Creed’s mouth and chin with her fingertips. “And he’ll grow up to be as handsome as you.”
Creed blinked quickly, fighting back tears but he continued to smile at her. “I’m sure he will,” he managed to croak. And then he changed the subject. “Hey, have you had breakfast. Gotta keep your strength up.”
“Yes, I’ve already eaten but I’d like to have some water if that would be okay,” she said.
“I’ll get it for you,” Creed said, glad to have a moment alone to catch his breath. He knew she hadn’t had breakfast. Her short-term memory was gone and she couldn’t remember if she had eaten or when or even what she liked to eat. Just one of the ways the disease progressed.
Julia would know what to do about getting her to eat when she came back. Seeing his mother like this was always difficult but the days when she thought he was his dad was the worst. And they were happening more and more frequently. He didn’t know how Julia did it every day.
In the kitchen, he filled a glass with ice from the refrigerator door and then filtered water. On impulse, he fixed one for himself and then headed back down the hall.
“I was thirsty, too—” he began but stopped when he saw that the bed was empty.
“Mom?”
No answer and Creed turned slowly around, making sure she hadn’t moved to a chair or was sitting by her dressing table.
She had never been a large woman but now she was so small, almost as if she was shrinking right along with her mind.
“Mom,” he called out, a little louder now.
No answer. Creed sat the glasses down on a nearby table. The adjacent bathroom door was open but he didn’t want to look inside and interrupt her. Instead, he tiptoed to the door and rapped lightly with his knuckle.
“Mom.”
When there was no answer, he peeped around the door. The room was empty.
Four: Reconnecting
Fighting back panic, Creed stood in the middle of the bedroom wondering where his mother could have gone? He double checked the windows. They were closed and locked. He hadn’t passed her in the hall. As he tried to figure out where she had gone, he took a deep breath to calm his racing heart. Could she have somehow gone the other way and out the back door? If she got out in the hall and got confused that might have happened. There was a river nearby. If she got out somehow and fell in—
Could she swim?
Creed was heading for the door, intent on racing out the back in search of his mother when he heard a
weak, muffled cry for help.
“Help.”
It was definitely coming from somewhere in the room.
“Help me. Please help.”
The closet. He crossed the room and eased open the closet door so as not to scare her. She already sounded terrified. He found her, tangled in the clothes hanging there, the belt of a bathrobe around one arm. Relief flooded through him at the sight, his knees growing weak.
“Come on, this way,” he said, extending his hand.
She looked so lost standing there looking up at him with terrified eyes. She shook her head, her hair clinging to one wet cheek. She’d been crying and Creed’s heart broke into a million pieces. “No. Why did you lock me in here?”
Creed started to argue with her but then remembered Julie’s instructions. “I promise you’ll be safe with me,” Creed assured her, inching closer.
Moments ago, she had thought Creed was her husband. Now, she saw him as a stranger who had locked her in a closet. “You tied me up.”
“You’re just tangled in the clothes. Let’s fix that.”
She allowed him to remove the belt from around her arm but he could feel her trembling.
“I brought you water,” Creed reminded her. “You said you were thirsty.”
She nodded.
“It’s right over there on the table,” Creed said, stepping back to give her plenty of room and show that he was no threat. He pointed to where the two glasses sat. “I promise nothing will happen to you.”
Slowly, like a scared rabbit, his mother inched past him and then made her way slowly across the room to where the glasses of water waited. She paused, picked up one of the glasses and took a sip. When she turned back to Creed, all was well again. Her smile was back and she beckoned for him to come to her.
“I think that’s the best water I’ve ever tasted,” she said.
“Good,” Creed said, letting out his breath at last.
They sat facing each other in chairs at the foot of the bed and she told him all about the plans for the new baby. She even discussed baby names and mentioned, again, that she hoped it was a boy. This time, she must have thought Creed was a doctor or someone else because she mentioned her husband a time or two. Creed’s heart broke more and more with each passing moment.
