by Syndi Powell
* * *
APRIL PUT HER purse on the coffee table and eagerly dropped down onto the couch. She removed the high-heel shoes that pinched her feet, which she rubbed before lying back and staring at the ceiling. What a night. Definitely not one she’d expected.
Her cell phone in the purse buzzed, and she sat up, pawing through it until she found the phone and put it up to her ear. “Hey, Page.”
“I need details.”
April checked the time on her cable box. “You at work?”
“I’m on break. Now, tell me how your date was. I need to live vicariously through you.”
April chortled and got comfortable on the sofa. “There aren’t many details to give you. He had to leave early to go home to take care of his mom.”
“He lives with his mom?”
“That sounds bad, but it’s true. She’s got Alzheimer’s, and he lives with her so he can look after her.”
“Wow. That may change my mind about him.”
“I know, right? It’s like he’s got this whole side of him that I didn’t even realize existed. And now that I know, it makes me like him even more.” She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “His mom got violent with the night nurse, which is why we had to go to their place before the wedding was over. I watched him as he calmed her down, put her to bed and read her a story.” She thought back on the scene. “It was like she was the child and he the parent. That’s got to be tough on him. On top of what he already does for his clients and everybody else. I mean, when does he get to have time for himself?” Page remained silent. April glanced at her phone. “You still there? Or did I lose you?”
“You’re falling for him.”
“What? No, I’m not.” She couldn’t be. She barely knew him. She could admit that she wanted to get to know him better, but that was a far cry from being in love with him. “I just feel bad for him.”
“I bet that went over well. Guys love when you pity them.”
“I don’t pity him.”
“But you are interested in him.”
April began to protest, then paused. She had to admit that he intrigued her and she longed to get to know him better. “Maybe I am. That doesn’t mean I’m going to date him. The whole reason for my second-chance list is to find balance in my life. Less work, more fun. And if anyone has a more unbalanced life, it’s Zach Harrison.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
That was the big question. She could tamp down the feelings she had for him and pretend they were nothing. She could explore the feelings with him. Or she could ignore them and pray that they went away. She chose the latter. “Nothing. I’m going to keep working on my list. Next, I’m joining a gym.”
Page harrumphed on the other end of the line. “You’re not going to drag me with you, are you? I hate working out.”
“You’re a twig who doesn’t need to. I’m fighting the belly bulge after going on those meds, so I need to do something. Yep. I’m going to the gym and forget all about Zach.”
After talking for a few more minutes with Page, she quit the call and pulled up the search app on her phone. She typed in “new treatments for Alzheimer’s” and started to scroll through the results, telling herself that wanting to help Zach’s mother had nothing to do with him. It was practically her job to find out the latest information.
* * *
ZACH ENDED THE call with the scout for the Chicago club and checked the time. His grumbling stomach reminded him he’d skipped lunch again, and he pressed the intercom button to alert Dalvin. His assistant stepped into the office. “You rang?”
“Didn’t we order lunch?”
“The rest of the office staff did three hours ago, but you never put in your request.” Dalvin left the office and returned with a foam box and plastic utensils. “Lucky for you, I know what you like and I’ve been keeping it warm until you were ready to eat.”
Zach lifted the lid and smiled. “Yes, you do know what I like.”
As Zach ate his lunch, Dalvin settled himself in the chair across from him. “So you’ve got Ramos a tryout with Chicago?”
“Not yet, but they’re interested.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and checked email on his computer. Frowned at an address that took him a moment to recognize. [email protected]. That woman would not give up. He opened the email and skimmed the message. She’d sent information on recent updates to Alzheimer’s treatments. He didn’t need her telling him what to do. He had enough doctors who thought they knew better than he did about what to do for his mother. He trashed the message.
On the other hand, if she knew something that they didn’t... He changed his mind and retrieved the email from his deleted folder. “Can you do me a personal favor?”
“Another wedding?” Dalvin brightened.
His assistant looked too happy to be attempting that again. Zach shuddered at the thought. One had been enough for him. “More like research on developments for treating Alzheimer’s disease.” He reopened April’s email. “And I need to call Dr. Winsley and get an appointment for my mother.”
Dalvin wrote the information down on a sticky note and rose from the chair. “You got it.” He checked the time on his step tracker. “And don’t forget you have a conference call at four with the Lions about Johnson.”
“Put them through when they call.” He turned back to his computer and opened the first of eight articles that April had sent him.
By the end of his day, he’d fielded an offer from the Lions for Antonio, had a doctor’s appointment the following week for his mother and had read half of the articles. He settled himself in his car and headed toward home. He opened his car’s hands-free phone system and had it call April. She didn’t answer and the call went to voice mail. Checking his rearview mirror before making a lane change, he left her a message, keeping it simple and to the point. “Thank you for the advice. Call me.”
* * *
APRIL’S PHONE BUZZED in her pocket again, but she ignored it as she tried to follow the trainer through the gym as he pointed out several machines. “These will work your abs as well as strengthening your core. You’re not in bad shape, but the things I could do to your body would make your boyfriend weep.”
She tried to ignore the sexual innuendo. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
The trainer stopped and gave her a once-over. “Well, I can change that. Give me a month and men will be eating out of your toned hand.” He stopped at a treadmill where a young guy ran at full tilt. The trainer pressed a few buttons so that the treadmill started to incline. “I don’t take on anyone who tells me they can’t. You can. And you will.”
April took stock of the large room full of equipment. One of the emergency room nurses had recommended not only this place, but the trainer who’d gotten her into shape for the annual Detroit marathon last year. April knew she had to do something because exercise would improve her chances of survival and lower the risk of the cancer returning. “All right. I can.”
The trainer smiled. “Good. We’ll sign the paperwork in my office and discuss schedules and nutrition.” He started toward the administration offices.
April accompanied him and tugged her phone out of her pocket. Zach had called and left a voice mail. She could barely hear his message over the blaring music in the gym. He’d gotten her email. Good.
After signing over her life and discussing meal plans, April left the gym. She started her car and waited for it to warm up before leaving. While she waited, she played with her phone. Should she call Zach now? Or hold off until she was home?
She pressed his name before she could second-guess herself. He picked up on the first ring. “April.”
“Hi.” She expected him to say something else, but he kept silent. “How’s your mom doing today?”
“Better, I guess. No throwing dishes at least.”
“Good.”
Again, silence, during which she questioned why he’d asked her to phone him. She adjusted the heater so that the hot air blew on her faster. “So...Zach, you asked me to call?”
“Right. I got an appointment with Winsley for next week, but I was wondering if you had the name of that doctor you mentioned.”
“Dr. Gregory. I can text you his information tomorrow when I’m at the hospital. Maybe he could find some of the answers you’re searching for.”
“Thank you.”
She waited, but still he said nothing else. “Do you have a problem with me?” She figured she’d ask the question that had been bothering her since the night before. “I mean, it’s like you turned off all your charm. And I’m not sure what I did.”
“It’s not what you did.” A pause. “Well, maybe it is. It’s just I’ve been responsible for my mother for many years and I’m not good with accepting a hand from anyone else.”
“You can’t do this all on your own.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
She blinked at the snap in his voice. “Well, good luck with her. And goodbye.”
“April, wait. I don’t mean to be short with you. I just... I don’t know what to do anymore.” His voice dropped softer. “And that scares me because I’m losing her more and more. Eventually, she’ll be gone, and then what will I do?”
She took a deep breath. “Doctors like to believe they have all the answers, but the truth is we only know in part. We can tell you about the chemistry of the brain and how your mother’s disease will progress, but we can’t tell you how to cope. How to accept the inevitable. But I do know that you’ll go on. You’ll live. Survive. Your life will look different than it is right now, but disease has a way of changing your priorities. You’ll find what’s important and hold on to that.”
He gave a bitter chuckle. “That doesn’t really help me.”
“Because there is no help. But you can hopefully draw comfort from knowing you’ll be okay in the end.” She glanced out her window. “I’m speaking from experience. True, it was cancer that upended my world while you’re experiencing this through your mom’s Alzheimer’s. But the end is the same.”
“You sound like a shrink with all that talk.”
“That’s what helped me get through the worst year of my life. Affirmations that I was stronger than the disease. Belief that I’d come out better on the other side. Not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually. And I know you will, too.”
There was silence on the other end as she waited for him to go on. His voice was raw, almost inaudible when he did. “All I wanted was to thank you for sending me all that information. I don’t need you to tell me how to feel about what’s happening to her.”
“That’s the thing. It’s not only her that it’s happening to. You’re just as involved.”
“I gotta go,” he said and hung up the phone.
April sat in her car and stared. Maybe she shouldn’t have lectured, but she didn’t like hearing him sound so defeated. If she could help him, she would. And if she lost him in the process, she’d accept that, too.
* * *
ZACH KNOCKED AT his grandparents’ place and waited until Pops answered and ushered him inside. “Don’t blame me, son. It was your Nonna’s idea.”
Zach frowned at this. “What did she do?” A woman’s laugh that didn’t belong to his grandmother floated in the air. “April?”
Smirking, he followed the sound of her infectious laughter to the kitchen, where Nonna was showing April how to dredge chicken cutlets in egg, before coating them with Italian bread crumbs. He appreciated the way April intently watched the process and clapped when the finished product was placed into a skillet with olive oil. She probably gave everything that same kind of attention, and part of him wished she would turn her attention to someone other than him. His better half reveled in how she reached out to him, though, and tried to enter his life whether he wanted her to or not.
She turned and looked at him. “I didn’t know you were coming to dinner.”
“I didn’t know you were learning to cook tonight.” He approached Nonna and gave her a loud kiss on her cheek. “But I’m betting my grandmother knew we’d both be here.”
Nonna reached up and patted his cheek. “Hoped you would, dear. I wasn’t positive it would all come together like this.” She used a fork to turn the cutlets in the skillet. “You want them to brown on both sides, but not burn.”
April nodded and leaned over the skillet to peer at the chicken. “How do you know when it’s done?”
Nonna brought out a meat thermometer. “Some cooks pierce the meat to see if the juices run clear. I prefer to rely on science.”
Zach left the two women in the kitchen and joined Pops in the dining room, where he set the table for four. He handed a plate to Zach and pointed to the end of the table. “Your nonna has romance on her mind.”
“She should know better.” He placed napkins beside the plates as his grandfather laid out the silverware. “I’m not interested in romance.”
“There’s nothing wrong with coming home to the right woman.”
“I thought that was Marissa at one time. And we both know how that turned out.”
“Your ex-wife only wanted one woman in your life.” He handed two wineglasses to Zach. “She couldn’t handle that your mother would always come first.”
He arranged the glasses on the table. “And why does Nonna think April would be any different?”
“She’s a doctor, so she knows what it means to sacrifice her time for others’ well-being. She understands the role of caretakers. And she wouldn’t run when things got tough.” Pops put his hands on his hips and surveyed the table, giving it a satisfied nod.
Zach peered at his grandfather. “Nonna thinks? Or you do?”
Pops waved his hands. “After fifty-three years of marriage, it’s the same thing, no? Let’s go choose a wine from the cellar.”
When April placed the platter of chicken parmigiana in the middle of the table, everyone chose to ignore the dark brown edges and instead oohed and aahed at the presentation. His grandparents sat at the head and foot of the table while Zach sat directly across from April. Pops lifted his glass, and everyone followed suit. “To my family and new friend who have gathered here to enjoy this wonderful meal tonight, I thank you and ask for blessings on you.”
April smiled and swallowed a mouthful of her wine. She looked at him over the top of her glass before setting it down on the table. “Sorry the chicken is so brown. I got distracted by Mrs. Rossi making the sauce.”
Zach tucked his napkin on his lap and said, “If it tastes half as good as it smells, I’m sure we’ll enjoy it all the more.”
They passed dishes around the table. Pasta. Chicken. Salad. Bread. All the elements of a good meal at his grandparents’ home. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he chose to ignore it. Instead, he focused on Nonna sharing a story about an eccentric customer at the store earlier that day. But the phone buzzed again. He put his fork down on his plate and checked the cell’s display.
Night nurse didn’t show up. And she’s asking for you.
He looked up to find them all watching him. He gave a shrug. “I have to go.” He put a hand to his chest. “I’m sorry, Nonna. I wish I could stay.”
“The one you should apologize to is April, since she cooked dinner.”
He glanced at her and offered a lopsided smile. “What I ate was wonderful. Thank you.”
He left the dining room and walked to the foyer, where he started to put on his coat. Nonna appeared behind him with a plastic container. “Here. I made this ahead of time, just in case.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “She needs me.”
“Or do you need her?” She handed him a glove that had fallen on the floor. “Someday you’ll find tha
t it was the same thing.”
“I’m all she’s got.”
“She has us, too, but you won’t let us help you.”
“You remember the last time. She had a total meltdown and went after Pops with a spoon.” He shook his head. “I’m trying my best to keep her calm.”
“And how’s that going?”
He grimaced and put on his gloves, took the plastic container and hugged his grandmother. “Thank you for the invite, but you can stop with the matchmaking.”
“I’m your grandmother. That will never stop.”
He smiled and left the house. He’d wanted one night to enjoy dinner and spend time with his family. And he couldn’t even have that.
He kept his focus driving on the icy roads and wondered what he’d be walking into when he got home.
* * *
APRIL DRIED THE last dish and handed it to Mrs. Rossi, who placed it in the cupboard to the right of the sink. “Thank you for the cooking lesson tonight. I’m learning a lot from you.”
Mrs. Rossi closed the cupboard door. “I’m sorry things didn’t go quite as planned.”
“You mean inviting your grandson to spend time with me in the hopes that there will be a spark between us?” Trying to sound nonchalant about it, she said, “He’s got a lot going on.”
“More than he needs to. I don’t know if you noticed, but he has a hard time accepting help.” She took the damp dish towel from April and draped it over the edge of the sink to dry. “I had another reason for offering you a cooking lesson. I need to do something about Zach.”
April frowned. “I don’t understand. What could I do?”
“You are another choice, another path. A chance at finding something more than taking care of his mother and his clients.” She rested against the kitchen counter. “I love him, so please don’t misunderstand me. I’m afraid of the day when his mother is no longer there.”
“When did she first start showing symptoms?”
