Unforgettable You

by Marci Bolden

  Carrie dismissed the idea with a laugh. “That sounds nice, but I don’t think busy airports and traffic would be advisable for her.”

  “How is she?”

  “She’s moving a little more slowly these days. She seems to have lost the connection she had made that helped her recognize Jenny. She keeps treating her more like an inn guest than a helper. She wants to keep serving her drinks and telling her about the history of the inn.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Well… It was bound to happen.”

  “And you?”

  “I’m okay,” she lied. And it was a lie. She hadn’t been okay for some time. She was sad that they were drifting apart and devastated that she couldn’t do anything more to help Doreen. The threads of her life were fraying faster than she could mend them. Without Will there, she felt helpless. And alone.

  “I am going to be home soon.” His voice was the same one he used when he was holding her tight, reassuring her on those particularly difficult days. The tone wasn’t nearly as soothing when it was on the other end of a telephone.

  “Yeah. That’ll be nice.”

  “Maybe I could pop in for Thanksgiving and head out the next day.”

  She closed her eyes tightly. Oh, how she wanted to see him, but not as a fly-through. “I don’t know, Will. I don’t want to confuse Mama. I don’t think it would be good for her if you are just coming and going. She probably wouldn’t understand that.”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to confuse her,” he agreed.

  Carrie listened to the silence for a moment before clearing her throat. “I need to go. We were getting ready to head to the store.”

  “Hey,” he called before she could hang up. “I miss you like crazy.”

  “I miss you too. We’ll talk soon.” She hesitated a moment before ending the call.

  Talking soon didn’t have the same meaning it had when he’d first left. Talking soon now seemed to be whenever he could squeeze her in. She tried not to feel bitter about that, but anger and resentment tugged at her mind when she thought about the situation too much.

  Exhaling her frustration, she walked back into the kitchen. “What do you say we splurge and have lunch while we’re in town?” Carrie’s stomach dropped when she realized the kitchen was empty. The purse that she’d left on the counter was gone. “Oh, God,” she muttered. Not only had she put the checkbook in the bag, but she’d dropped her car keys in there as well.

  She ran through the house and onto the front porch in time to see the leaves in the driveway starting to settle. Carrie immediately called Natalie. When Mama pulled these kinds of stunts, she always let Natalie convince her to come home. Sinking her teeth into her lip so she didn’t cry, she waited for Natalie to answer and explained that, yet again, Mama had taken the car and disappeared.

  Natalie had the list of Mama’s go-to places memorized—the grocery store, the salon, and her favorite restaurant were the most likely stops. If Natalie didn’t find her at one of those, she’d go to a few of Mama’s friends’ homes. After that, the panic could officially set in.

  Walking back into the empty house, Carrie looked around and suddenly felt overwhelmed. Not only by Mama but by Will. Mostly Will, if she were honest with herself. He’d left, and she had a growing sense that he wouldn’t be coming back. Sinking onto the stairs, Carrie sat, phone in hand, and waited until the front door opened almost an hour later.

  “This is getting to be a habit,” Natalie pointed out after she escorted Mama into the house. “What happened?”

  “We were making a grocery list, and I got a phone call. I was distracted. Thank you for bringing her home.”

  “What about your car?”

  “I’ll call my dad. He’ll pick it up. What was she doing when you found her?”

  “Shopping. I convinced her that you needed her to come home right away. By the time we got here, she thought we’d been out to get our hair done.”

  Carrie closed her eyes and rubbed the crease in her brow that was threatening to become permanent.

  Natalie sighed as she squeezed Carrie’s shoulder. “Honey, where is your head these days?”

  “I don’t know. I’m tired.”

  “No word from Will, huh?”

  “That was the distraction.” Carrie frowned. “He called.”

  “When is he coming back?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s get in the kitchen before she runs away again.”

  Natalie held firm to Carrie’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Carrie’s spirits sank even lower. “Can we not do this right now? I’d like to make sure Mama doesn’t escape. Twice in one day might do me in.”

  She sensed Natalie’s gaze on her as she fixed them all tea and Doreen rambled on about how Mike needed to come in from the fields. An occasional glance toward her friend confirmed the concern on Natalie’s face. Carrie wanted to slam one of the teacups down and scream.

  Yes, Mama was doing worse. Yes, she was becoming more difficult to handle. Yes, Carrie was overwhelmed and on the verge of breaking down.

  But she didn’t. She ignored Natalie’s concern and Mama’s incessant talking and eased into a chair at the table. She smiled sadly as Mama started telling one of her stories. It was one that both Carrie and Natalie had heard a thousand times, but neither stopped her.

  When their cups were empty, they helped Mama upstairs, tucked her into bed, and silently walked back downstairs.

  Natalie gathered her purse from the table by the front door and gave her friend a hug. “I’m here if you need me” was all she said before leaving.

  Carrie pulled her keys from her pocket and bolted the door that would keep Mama a prisoner inside her own home. Walking into the kitchen, she double-checked to make sure the back door was bolted as well. Once she was convinced Doreen couldn’t escape again, Carrie sat down at the table and sighed loudly.

  Will looked at his watch. Damn it. He wasn’t sure how this always seemed to happen, but the hours seemed to slip away before he noticed. Given the time difference between California and Iowa, he knew Carrie would be in bed. He didn’t want to wake her, or worse, wake Mama and give Carrie more problems than she already had. Leaning back in his desk chair, he ran his hands over his eyes.

  He’d thought being in front of the camera was exhausting. Taking on production was damn near killing him. That was no excuse. He knew it was no excuse. He needed to be more aware, more considerate. Carrie had sounded so completely worn down the last time they’d spoken.

  Looking at his phone, he noticed the date and realized that had been days ago.

  He hadn’t called her in days.

  But to be fair, she hadn’t called him either.

  Pushing himself up, he took his phone with him to the kitchen and filled a wineglass. His wide-open contemporary home seemed so cold now. So empty. Hollow. That was the word that had first come to mind when he’d returned. His home seemed hollow. Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, he looked out at the view. The vision of the lights twinkling below had been the reason he’d bought this house. He could look down on the world from his living room. Somehow that had seemed so damned important back then.

  Now, the lights were a distraction from the view he wanted to see. Bright stars twinkling above wide-open fields. A fire burning in front of him, keeping him warm. A soft hand to hold.

  “Screw it,” he breathed as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

  It was well after Carrie’s bedtime, but Will didn’t care. He needed to hear her voice. He needed the reassurance that she was waiting for him and to reassure her that he really was working to get back to her as quickly as he could. Before he could find her name in his contacts, the phone rang. He frowned, debating if he should ignore the call from his agent in lieu of calling Carrie.

  He didn’t. He answered with the intent of brushing his agent off as quickly as possible. However, within minutes, he was sitting at his desk, scrolling through his script to resolve a question.
r />   Chapter 23

  Thanksgiving had brought a dark cloud with it. The holiday hadn’t had the warmth and cozy feeling of family. Will was in California, and Mama had sat with a blank stare. The entire day had been a juggling act of emotions. Carrie had sent her dad away as soon as the meal had finished. She hadn’t wanted to deal with him insisting over and over that Carrie was no longer able to care for Doreen.

  He’d told her long ago that it was time to put Mama in a home, and Carrie wasn’t up for an argument. Instead, she’d sent him home, put Mama to bed early, and then sat with a glass of wine, silently cursing Will for abandoning her.

  She’d considered calling him but hadn’t wanted to disrupt his plans. Actually, truth be told, she hadn’t wanted to hear how happy he was without her. She hadn’t wanted to hear one more damn word about his project and how all his dreams were coming true while her life was crumbling around her. Instead, she’d cried herself to sleep and woken up with dread.

  As ten a.m. approached, Carrie once again looked at the monitor. Mama still hadn’t woken. She hadn’t stirred. Not once.

  The silence in the house had taken on an eerie effect. The air was heavy with the dread that had felt suffocating since Carrie rolled out of bed. Every breath she took seemed more difficult than the last. The coffee in the mug that was cradled between her hands had long since turned cold while she stared out the window at the overcast sky. The wind blew the fallen leaves around the backyard, and every now and then she thought she saw a few flakes of snow dancing through the air.

  Sighing heavily, she walked to the sink and dumped her coffee, looking down at what remained of the Thanksgiving dishes in the sink. She’d been too tired the night before to empty the dishwasher and reload it, so she’d left them in the sink. Seeing the dried cranberry sauce stuck to a dish, she wished she hadn’t been so lazy.

  Then again, she hadn’t really been lazy. She’d been exhausted emotionally, physically, and mentally. Something told her this day wasn’t going to be any better than the one before. Something told her this day was going to be worse. Much worse.

  Never in all the years that she had known Doreen Gable had the woman slept past eight a.m.

  When Carrie looked at the clock again, it was a few minutes after ten, and she knew she couldn’t linger in the kitchen any longer. She walked to the bottom of the stairs and looked up at the landing. She stood there for several moments before putting her hand on the railing and pulling herself up the stairs.

  Standing outside Mama’s bedroom door, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, bracing herself for what she knew to be true before knocking on the wood. “Mama?”

  The woman didn’t answer.

  Swallowing hard, Carrie pushed the door open, and tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of the woman still curled up under the blankets.

  “Hey,” she called out cheerfully as she marched to the window and pulled the curtains back. “Come on, sleepyhead, time to rise and shine.”

  Turning, she looked at the bed. Mama hadn’t stirred. Carrie went to the closet and started sorting through clothes. “You need to dress warmly today. It’s starting to snow.”

  Carrie grabbed a heavy cardigan from the closet and turned, hoping to see Doreen glaring at her—irritated at being woken up. She still hadn’t moved. Carrie’s heart grew even heavier. Slowly walking to the bed, Carrie stared at the lump under the blankets, and tears fell down her cheeks.

  “Don’t do this to me, Mama,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this.” She put her hand on Doreen’s shoulder and gently nudged her with no response. Closing her eyes, Carrie exhaled loudly, resigned to the truth.

  Moving to the window, Carrie fiddled with the sweater in her hands for a long time as she stared out at the trees. “Mike died, Mama. Almost four years ago. He walked into a convenience store and some kid came in behind him with a gun. The doctor told me he didn’t feel a thing, that he was dead the moment the bullet hit him.”

  The snow was falling more steadily and would start accumulating soon, leaving a layer that would hide the world until it melted away. Knowing how the Iowa winters went, Carrie suspected that wouldn’t be until spring. Mama would hate having people trek through the snow to bury her. She’d hate that they’d be cold. She’d hate the inconvenience snow could bring to a funeral.

  “Christmas is coming,” Carrie whispered. “Maybe this is the year we’ll keep it small. I know.” She smiled. “We say that every year, and every year we drag everything out and go all out, but maybe this year we really should keep it small. It’s just the two of us, after all.” She choked on the words.

  Snatching a tissue from the box on the nightstand, Carrie wiped her eyes and nose and took a deep, calming breath. She didn’t have time to stand there and cry. There was so much to be done. So much to plan for. So much to think about. Even though she should have, she had avoided planning Mama’s funeral. She hadn’t had the heart. She’d regret that now, she knew, but some things she didn’t have the strength to face until she had to.

  She’d done that with Will. She’d done that with Mama’s illness. Why wouldn’t she continue that trend now? Carrie sniffed when Natalie called out her name. She hadn’t been expecting company, but she was glad someone had shown up or she likely would have stood staring out the window all day.

  Avoiding the inevitable.

  “Care?” Natalie asked from behind her.

  Carrie swallowed and slowly turned.

  Natalie’s brow was creased, but the moment realization hit her, her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Oh no.”

  “Can you call someone?” Carrie asked in a voice that sounded emotionless to her ears. “I don’t think I can.”

  Natalie moved to the bed, looking down at the bundle under the covers. “Oh no, Carrie. What happened?”

  “She just didn’t wake up. Can you call?”

  “Come with me.”

  “I should stay. She wouldn’t want to be alone.”

  “Carrie,” she whispered.

  “Please,” Carrie begged on a whisper. “Please, make the call.”

  Swallowing, Natalie nodded. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as Natalie left the room, Carrie put her face in her hands and sobbed.

  Will pulled his phone from his pocket when Carrie’s ringtone sang out to him. The old theme song from Rocky grew louder as he pulled the phone from his pocket. He thought the inspiring song suited her even though she’d laughed at his choice, but he’d explained that she was stronger than she realized and tougher than anyone would expect.

  Even so, he was concerned after her second attempt to reach him in such a short time.

  “Will,” Marvin, his new assistant, said. “Are you coming?”

  Will silenced his phone, making a mental note to call Carrie the moment he had a chance. Following Marvin into the meeting, he smiled and shook hands as he was introduced and then sat in a plush leather seat, preparing to have smoke blown up his ass.

  He only half listened. While he was excited about the project, the semantics they were discussing were things Will didn’t care much about. Marvin was the one he had hired to deal with the minor details. Will wanted to get into the work of making his movie a reality. He didn’t want to deal with all the numbers and the ass-kissing. But he’d made the mistake of insisting that he be involved on every level. He wanted to have a say in everything so his movie was his vision and not someone else’s.

  He’d officially turned into one of those writers, and this was his first project.

  He’d felt so good at the start of this. He’d felt accomplished and in control. Those feelings hadn’t lasted long. Now he felt like he was drowning in details and meetings and brownnosing.

  This was something he’d wanted for so long. And he was living it. Yet he was miserable. The hustling from meeting to meeting. The networking and meet and greets were squeezed in between interviews about the movie he’d made with Juliet Ramirez—the project that he’d h
ated every moment of making.

  The project that had only been tolerable because of a beautiful innkeeper and her delusional mother-in-law. Damn it. He had promised Carrie this wouldn’t happen. He’d promised he’d be home within days…then weeks. Now it was closing in on two months since he’d left her standing at the airport. He barely found time to call her.

  He wouldn’t blame her if the reason she had been calling was to break up with him. To tell him to not bother calling her or making lame promises anymore. He deserved to be kicked to the proverbial curb for his neglect. He should send her flowers. And candies. And something for Mama. Mama deserved an apology from him too.

  He didn’t realize he was nervously tapping his fingers until Marvin subtly nudged his arm.

  “We were talking about casting,” he said to Will, pulling him back to the meeting.

  Will laughed softly, pushing thoughts of Carrie and Doreen from his mind so he could focus on the task at hand.

  Carrie frowned as she closed her phone. She’d called Will twice. The first time she’d left a message asking him to call her back. This time she’d simply hung up when his voice mail answered. Natalie and Jenny had called almost everyone else: friends, extended family who they rarely heard from, and members of the church and other groups Mama used to attend.

  Carrie’s dad had come over and called the funeral home that had taken care of Mike. Carrie was grateful for the three of them stepping in and taking over, but it left her with time to think, and she was beginning to realize that wasn’t a good thing. Sticking her phone in her pocket, she looked around the kitchen. Before long, it was going to be overflowing with cakes, casseroles, and every kind of salad imaginable. People would be filing into the house to pay their respects to the woman who had passed away.

  Carrie wanted to cook, she wanted to bake, to create something to focus on, but she knew it was pointless. Whatever she made would never be touched. Instead, she reached under the sink and pulled out a bottle of cleaner and sprayed the counter. Taking a towel, she started scrubbing. She moved the toaster to the side, carelessly brushing the crumbs to the floor and spraying the countertop again. She moved the blender, then the mixer, then the coffeemaker.