by Winnie Reed
He wore a pair of bathing trunks and a wide, almost goofy smile.
He was looking at her, while she was looking at the camera.
“My God, he adored her,” I whispered, staring at the couple. “They’re so cute together, too.”
“I know, right? I’m obsessed with them.” Darcy leaned in, shaking her head. “He’s so handsome.”
“Like a movie star,” I agreed. He had a square jaw, deep-set eyes, wavy black hair. “He reminds me of… what was his name? Tyrone something.”
“Tyrone Power? Where?” Mom practically flew over to where we sat. He’d always been one of her favorites.
“It’s not him, but it looks like him. Doesn’t it?” I held the photo out for her to see.
“Oh, yes indeed. Mm-mm-mm.” She practically licked her lips. Boy, did this woman need a man in her life.
“And he’s with Millicent. I wonder if that’s Frank.”
“Who’s Frank?” Darcy asked. Right. We hadn’t been talking. I filled her in as quickly as I could while Mom doted on the dog worse than she’d already been.
“Here’s the thing, though.” I studied the picture again and tried to see him as the slimeball who’d walked away from his girlfriend and their unborn baby. “Does he look like somebody who was only in it for a little booty?”
“Emma!” Mom hissed, scandalized.
“Okay. This from the woman who just about salivated over a photo from seventy years ago,” I muttered. “But it’s the truth. I’m not making things up. She accused him of using her, and I would do the same thing in her position. She accused him of only wanting one thing out of her. When he got it, he was gone.”
“It’s not that easy,” Mom sighed. “Imagine how frightening that could’ve been for him. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s terrible if he deserted her. But I can also imagine how a wealthy girl’s father would put an abundance of pressure on a working-class boy to do right by her, if you get what I mean.”
“He probably felt like he could never measure up to the sort of life she was used to,” Raina murmured.
“It’s still not an excuse,” I argued. “He shouldn’t have run away. Even if he felt like he couldn’t measure up or what have you, he didn’t have to abandon her like he did.”
“They might’ve worked things out later on,” Darcy suggested. She sounded so hopeful. I could understand why; the couple in the picture looked so happy. And the boy looked like he was so much in love. I wanted to believe they’d eventually come to an understanding, too.
“Maybe. Maybe that’s why Millicent never sent the letter. Maybe there was no reason to send it.” I wanted to believe that, but I couldn’t. It didn’t feel right.
“We’ll have to find out.” Darcy looked around. “Right?”
“Is that how I sound when I decide I have to do something?” I muttered to Raina, who gave me a wide-eyed, dramatic nod. Maybe a little too dramatic for my liking, but whatever.
“Well?” Darcy prompted, nudging me. “I wanna know how things turned out for these two crazy kids.”
“We know how things turned out for Millicent,” I reminded her in a soft voice. “She passed away without ever having married, with no relatives—none that we knew of, anyway.”
“Don’t you want to make sure the right thing was done by her baby?”
“Sweetie, I’ve been worrying about that for days. I was worrying about it when I dropped Lola’s leash and she was almost killed. I need to focus my priorities. This can’t be it. And you can put away the puppy dog eyes,” I added when Darcy just about started whimpering.
“Fine. I’ll do it myself. I’ll finish what you started.” Darcy stood, fists clenched. “I want to see how this played out.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Look who’s talking!” she laughed. “You! The queen of drama!”
“You need to remember that we just made up, miss lady,” I grumbled, folding my arms. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been too wrapped up in other people’s lives for too long. I need to focus on me.”
The bell chimed, and in walked Trixie. “Guess what? I found Frank Welburn!”
Darcy gasped, turning to me.
Raina gasped, too.
In truth, so did I.
Dang it. Just when I thought I was out…
Chapter Twenty
“I’m the only person who could do this for you at this very minute?” Joe shot me a look from behind the wheel. “Is there any reason why you couldn’t drive yourself?”
“For one thing, I’ve been through a very trying day. If I recall correctly, I told you my dog almost died.”
“And that’s terrible. Seriously. I’m so glad she’s okay. I’m sure that must’ve been awful.”
“It was.” I looked out the window because it was easier than letting him see my eyes welling up. “Anyway, Darcy has to mind the store. Trixie has things to do. Raina’s taking care of Lola since she shouldn’t be left alone right now. Mom’s working, obviously.”
“True, I’m sure.”
“Besides, you’ve been with me through this. I thought maybe you’d find it interesting.”
He was quiet for a minute before asking, “You’re sure you’re not bringing me along so I can wave my badge around?”
“No! Jeez. I wasn’t even thinking that until you said it. Honestly.”
He seemed to accept this. At least, he didn’t offer an argument.
“What about Deke?” he murmured.
I could barely hear him, his voice was so soft. Wonderful. He was doing this. This was actually happening.
“What about him?” I sighed. “I don’t know any other way to explain this. There’s nothing serious between us. We see each other every once in a while. And it just happens that right now, you’re both in town at the same time. Believe me, I don’t crave difficulty. It would be nice if something could be simple for once. Peaceful. Easy. Instead, I can’t even ask you for a ride to the nursing home where Frank Welburn lives without getting raked over the coals.”
“I’m raking you over the coals?”
“That’s sure how it feels over here in the passenger seat!” I growled. “I’ve had an incredibly trying day and that’s why I didn’t trust myself to drive. I’m still shaky. And I didn’t want to do this by myself. Okay? I’m not thrilled about walking around a nursing home in the first place.”
“What, are you afraid?”
“I don’t like that nasty tone,” I whispered. “You sound very nasty right now. Like you’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not trying to make fun”
“You’re doing a pretty good impression of somebody who’s trying to make fun.”
“I’m not. I mean it.” He snickered. “Okay. Maybe I was sort of making fun, but gently. I was gently teasing.”
“You were making fun. I’m sorry if walking through a nursing home isn’t something I’m completely comfortable with. I have a lot of bad memories.”
“Of your time in a nursing home?”
“I will take the wheel and steer us off the road, I swear.”
“Sorry, sorry. Okay. I’ll be serious. You’ve visited nursing homes in the past?”
“When I was little,” I admitted. “My grandmom was in one. She lived with us for a little while. Mom was dead-set against sending her to a facility. That was the word she always used. A facility. Anyway, she didn’t wanna do it. So when Grandmom couldn’t be trusted to live alone anymore, Mom insisted she live with us.”
“How did your dad feel about that?”
“He was fine with it. He agreed with her. Don’t get me wrong. They got along well for a really long time. They were nice to each other. They supported each other. Especially back then.”
“Got it. I guess things didn’t work for long, though? Since she ended up in a facility?”
I tapped a finger to my nose. “It was around three months, I think. Maybe. I was, like, seven at the time so my timeline might be off. See, and I didn’t find this out u
ntil I was older, Grandmom had suffered several small strokes. Nobody knew that until later. She was more confused than Mom thought. She woke up in the middle of the night once and thought somebody was trying to break into the house, even though there was nobody outside anywhere. It was, like, three in the morning and Dad was out there with his service weapon, checking for intruders. She was too worked up to go back to sleep that night. I think that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. They weren’t equipped.”
“That’s very sad. And common, I think,” he added, sympathetic.
“I guess it is. So, we visited all the time. Just about every week. And it was… harrowing. Especially for a little kid.”
“I can’t imagine. And I’m sorry for making a joke out of this. Really. I wouldn’t wanna go in by myself if that was how I remembered things being in the past, either.”
“Thank you. And thanks for coming with me, too, I guess.”
He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “So. Trixie found this place.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how she managed it. That’s what she does. She could find a needle in a haystack. He’s been living in this home in Sea Harbor for the last several years.”
“Wow. All this time, he wasn’t that far away. A stone’s throw, practically.”
We arrived a few minutes later. “It looks nice,” I murmured. “And huge.”
“Enormous,” he sighed as we drove around. “Where do we even go in? Where’s the front of the place?”
“Have I been here before? I have no idea.”
“It was more of a rhetorical question. I didn’t expect you to answer.”
“Sorry. I’m a little tense. I told you this.”
“Maybe this wasn’t the right day to come out to see him,” he suggested. “We can always come back another time. Maybe tomorrow, when you’re feeling better.”
“Heck, no. We already came all this way. And I doubt I could get away with going home and having nothing to offer my sister. She’s more obsessed with this than I am now.”
The building was very clean looking, well maintained. Pretty, cheerful flowers grew all along the walkways, under the windows, in clusters around the trees which dotted the green lawn.
“This is nice. It really is.” Joe sounded positive for the first time since we left. No, for the first time since I called to ask for a ride to Sea Harbor.
I got the sense he was trying his best for my sake, which both endeared him to me and made me more nervous than ever. He was being nice. So nice. What did that mean? Was I overthinking this? Yes, I was obviously overthinking it.
What was the alternative? Remembering every uncomfortable, frightening visit to Grandmom’s nursing home?
It might’ve been safer, come to think of it.
The lobby was very pretty, with shiny floors and potted plants. High-backed wicker furniture held smiling, laughing older people. Some of them played cards and checkers while others read magazines. A few ladies clustered in a circle in one corner and knitted. “Wow,” Joe breathed. “This is much better than I would’ve imagined. Wasn’t this Frank guy supposed to be working class?”
“Maybe his situation improved over time. Lots of water under the bridge and all that.” None of the men bore even a slight resemblance to the boy in the picture, though I knew that wasn’t to be expected. Even if he was sitting there right then, I wouldn’t have recognized him after seven decades.
“Can I help you?” A young woman in a flowered smock stopped on her way past, smiling kindly.
“Yes, my name is Emma Harmon. This is my friend, Joe Sullivan. We’re here to visit one of your residents. Mr. Frank Welburn.”
Recognition ignited behind her eyes. “Oh, Mr. Welburn. Sure. And you know him how?”
Shoot. Should’ve thought this one through. My brain was in tatters after the events of the day.
It was Joe who jumped in and saved me. “We’re friendly with an old friend of his. Mrs. Merriweather, she lives down in Cape Hope. She mentioned he lived here but, you know how it is. She gets tired easily and can’t drive herself, certainly. We thought it would be nice to check in on him for her.”
Was it the very good, believable story that did the trick? Or was it Joe’s insanely good looks? Whatever the reason, I was glad to see the girl nod in appreciation. “That’s very sweet. Mr. Welburn doesn’t get a lot of visitors. Just his nephew, for the most part. I’ll show you to his room.”
“Thanks so much!” I shot Joe a look of gratitude which he shrugged off.
We followed the girl down a maze of hallways, twisting and turning. I wondered if we’d ever find our way out. “I should’ve left a trail of breadcrumbs!”
“Yes, it can be confusing for first-time visitors. If you have any problems finding your way out, just ask any of us that work here.”
“Good to know.” Joe and I exchanged a nervous glance.
“But you do have to be careful,” she warned, punching a code into a keypad before opening a metal door. “We’re entering the memory care unit, and the residents who live in this wing can’t wander the facility. Hence the code.”
“Flight risk?” Joe asked.
“Pretty much. It’s for their benefit. When you leave, be sure you’re the only ones leaving.”
We exchanged another look. I almost wished I could reach out and take Joe’s hand. Any little bit of comfort would’ve been nice. His presence would have to be enough.
This section of the building wasn’t quite as nice as the rest. The floors were carpeted as opposed to polished hardwood. The ceilings were lower, the halls narrower. There were signs hanging in front of some of the doors. Fall Risk was a common one.
We reached a door with Frank’s name on the front. “Here we are.” She knocked softly before opening the door a crack. “Frank? Mr. Welburn? You have visitors.”
“Who’s here to see me?” he called out. His voice was surprisingly strong and healthy, which bolstered my flagging spirits. For a second there, I was afraid he wouldn’t be able to give us any information. Memory care didn’t exactly inspire confidence, especially when the memories we were interested in were seven decades old.
The room was a nice size and comfortably furnished. Frank was watching a baseball game with the volume turned up practically all the way. Evidently, he didn’t have the sort of high-powered hearing aid Mrs. Merriweather used.
The aide helpfully turned the volume down while I waved to Frank, who sat in an armchair.
“Who’re you?” he asked, frowning.
“Now, Mr. Welburn. That’s not a way to talk to visitors.” She winked at Joe before leaving the room. I noticed she didn’t close the door all the way. Would she listen from outside?
I had to plow ahead anyway. “My name is Emma, and this is Joe. Mr. Welburn, I live in Cape Hope. Didn’t you used to live there?”
“Cape Hope?” He looked and sounded confused. My heart sank.
Until his expression cleared up. “Cape Hope! Certainly, I lived there for years. What ever made you think of old Cape Hope?”
“I… live there, as I said.” I felt like I was already drowning. “Uh, do you recognize this picture?”
I handed him the picture of the couple on the beach. Another look at it, after seeing him as he currently was, told me without a doubt that he was the guy sitting with Millicent. He still had that same thick, wavy hair—some people were lucky that way—and deep-set dark eyes.
He looked at it, squinting. “I’m no good without my glasses.”
Joe found them on the counter in the kitchenette. “Here you are, sir.”
Frank put them on, blinking hard a few times before focusing in on the picture again. “Let me see…”
I held my breath as I waited. It looked like Joe was holding his, too, when I looked at him.
Frank’s hand started to shake. “Oh. Oh.” He shook his head. “No. I can’t. No.” He dropped the photo, which fluttered to the floor.
“Mr. Welburn, it’s all rig
ht!” I was horrified. And even more so when he started to cry. “I didn’t mean to upset you!”
“No, I won’t. I won’t.” He dissolved into broken sobs. “No. It’s not. No.”
I was at a total loss and hated myself for doing this to him. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry! We’ll go now. I’m so sorry.”
The door opened, and in came the aide. Funny how she wasn’t so kind and warm anymore as she pushed her way past us. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry. We’re sorry. I didn’t know—” I was still babbling incoherently as Joe pulled me from the room.
“We’re sorry,” he called out one last time before closing the door, leaving us alone in the hall.
“Man, that was… I didn’t mean…” I wiped my eyes. “I should’ve known.”
“There was no way you could know. Come on. Let’s go. It was worth a shot.” He handed me the photo as we started our trek to find an exit. “Didn’t wanna leave that behind.”
At least one of us was thinking clearly. I wanted to go back to bed and start the entire day over again. With far fewer mistakes this time.
Chapter Twenty-One
“He burst into tears?” Deke blew out a long sigh through pursed lips. “Wow. That’s awful. You must’ve been—”
“Mortified. I was downright mortified. I felt like the world’s worst person. I never imagined it would make him feel that way. Why didn’t I think about it?”
“Because you’re not psychic, and you can’t expect yourself to be.”
I cracked open a crab claw and picked out the meat with a tiny fork. “Still. I could’ve been gentler with him. Here I am, thinking about him as that young man who abandoned his girl. He’s an old man now. He lives in a memory care unit, for God’s sake. What was I expecting?”
“You didn’t know he would react that way,” he reminded me. “Sure, you took a chance. But it wasn’t your fault.”
