Page 31 of Delay of Game (Norwalk Breakers #4)

THIRTY-ONE

GRACIE

Ethan pulled his truck to a stop in front of my house, turning the car off rather than let it idle.

“Thanks.” I unbuckled my seat belt. My head ached and after a full day of school, followed by four hours of socializing, I wore out just about the same time as Rob. While he’d had Mila as an excuse to slip away, I feigned a headache.

“Do you think I should head back or…” Ethan worried his bottom lip.

“Or go mingle with my friend?”

“I wasn’t going to phrase it quite like that,” he said with a mischievous grin. “And honestly, I’m more worried that Rob will beat the shit out of me when he finds out we left.”

“He won’t.” I laughed. “Besides, this was all Rob’s idea. He has no one to blame but himself.”

I reached for the handle when he cleared his throat. “You’ll let him know I didn’t stick around, right?”

“You’re that worried?”

“Terrified.” He gave me a quick grin behind a fair amount of trepidation.

I shrugged. “Okay. I’ll let him know I made it back home. Have a good night.”

Ethan pulled away once I opened the door. I set my purse down and wandered into the living room, throwing myself on the couch before I pulled out my phone.

I’m exhausted. I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t say goodbye.

I stared at the screen, willing a response.

ROB

Had I known, I wouldn’t have forced Mila into bed early just to escape.

Three dots bounced on the screen, disappeared, and then came back again. Gone. Back again.

ROB

Goodnight, Astrid

“Gracie Evans, how are you this weekend?” Brenda greeted me as I walked into the memory care facility.

“Good. How’s yours? Quiet, I hope.” I set a box of donuts on the counter and signed my name into the visitor’s log.

“Very quiet. Half the residents took a day trip to the mall, and the rest are relaxing. Ms. Mercy was in the lounge the last time I saw her. Did you bring breakfast?”

“A couple of pastries for us and donuts for the the staff.”

“Ms. Mercy’s visitors certainly spoil the staff, don’t they?” Brenda said, lifting the lid and peeking inside. “Boston Cream, my favorite.”

“Thanks,” I said, a little confused.

Aunt Mercy’s condition continued to deteriorate in the evenings.

After a handful of contentious visits after school, leaving both her and I upset, I decided with the staff to only come in the mornings or early afternoon.

School day visits were out, but I visited every weekend.

And I’d only brought breakfast a handful of times, but maybe the other resident’s visitors didn’t bring the staff anything at all.

“Enjoy your visit!” Brenda called, mouth full of donut, as I waved goodbye and made my way into the building.

The maze of hallways had become as familiar as the layout to the elementary school over the past month. I darted around a man and his aide, shuffling down the hallway, and waved hello to the cafeteria workers on my way to the lounge.

Aunt Mercy sat at a table with another resident, tittering quietly to each other while a handful of residents watched the TV.

I stood at the entrance to the lounge as Aunt Mercy inclined her head toward her friend and then tipped her head back, setting her hand on her friend’s arm as she laughed.

Tears sprung to my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d chatted like that.

Not as caregiver and caretaker. Or niece and aunt. But friends.

I brushed the tears away with the back of my hand and forced a smile onto my face. “Aunt Mercy, good morning!”

She startled at the intrusion, confusion fogging her face before her eyes focused on me. “Gracie, darling, how are you this morning?”

“Good. I hope you haven’t eaten because I brought breakfast.” I set the pastries on the edge of the table and leaned down for a hug. Aunt Mercy gripped me tight, kissing my cheek and giving me a squeeze before letting go.

“I’m always hungry for sweets, you know that. Sit, sit.” She patted the empty seat beside her. “Have I introduced you to Dot?”

“No, nice to meet you, Dot.” I held out a hand.

Dot’s glassy eyes struggled to focus on mine, but she held her hand out. “You look just like my Katie.”

“This is my niece, Gracie!” Aunt Mercy shouted. She lowered her voice and leaned to whisper in my ear. “She’s a bit deaf and a little forgetful. You’ll have to forgive her.”

“Not a problem,” I said, biting my bottom lip. “Good thing I brought plenty of pastries. Do you like croissants, Dot?”

Dot nodded, but let the TV draw her attention away from us.

“I heard there was a trip to the mall today. You didn’t want to go?” I asked.

“This morning, the nurse mentioned you’d be by, and I thought it’d be nice to sleep in a little.” Aunt Mercy fluttered her hand above the selection of pastries, drawing circles in the air over her favorites before zeroing in on a cinnamon bun.

“Are you sleepy? Have you talked to the doctor about that?”

“I’m just old. Old people get sleepy. Nothing to worry about.” Aunt Mercy waved her hand as if shooing away a fly.

Right. She had a healthcare team here. A cadre of people dedicated to making sure she went to her appointments and took her meds and watched her when I couldn’t. Still, I had a hard time shaking away the responsibilities I’d had for years. I took a bite of chocolate croissant, nodding.

“Mom and Dad will be in town soon.”

“More company?” She grinned. “No one warned me that the old folks’ home would involve so many visitors.”

“How many visitors are you getting?” I teased.

The staff hadn’t told me about any visitors, but then again, I hadn’t asked. I’d asked how she felt, what she did, and whether she ate, sure, but outside a small social circle, Aunt Mercy didn’t have many people who’d stop by for a chat.

“The ladies’ group stopped by a few days ago just to say hi. Hopefully it wasn’t too depressing for them, but they’re looking into their future.”

I bit back a laugh. Of course Gloria and the ladies’ group stopped by. Gloria had told me they would, but somehow, I brushed that off as being polite. “Did you do anything fun?”

Aunt Mercy shrugged. “Hell if I can remember. Bunco, maybe? Dot, did we play Bunco with some of my friends?”

Dot shrugged.

“She can’t remember a damn thing either. The staff write what we did in a little book, like we’re invalids. But the book just said we played a game. They’re terrible with details.”

That didn’t sound like a bad idea, actually, but I didn’t let my mind wander down the “what ifs” like I once had. What if I had kept a book for her to reference? What if I had hired an in-home aide while I worked? What if I had just tried a little harder to keep Aunt Mercy in her own home?

I nodded politely. “Maybe you should write in the book, too? You could look at it at the end of the day and make some notes if you remember anything?”

She shook her head. “They barely give me enough time to catch my breath around here. Always want to drag us out to some event or shopping. I’ve never been to so many shopping plazas in my life.

And where would I even put stuff? I live in one room.

Which reminds me, did you bring my comforter?

The quilted one that mom made me. I can’t find it. ”

I winced. “Yeah, it’s at your house. I keep meaning to bring it but…”

But every time I came to visit, I had a million other things on my brain and forgot the comforter.

“I’ll bring it by tomorrow,” I promised.

She waved a hand. “Don’t bother. I think Jimmy’s supposed to come by. He can bring it.”

I schooled my face into a pleasant smile even as my stomach tumbled.

In the early days of her disease, we’d had drag-out fights over misremembered information: whether her mom was alive, where Bernadette lived, who ate the last of the pizza in the fridge.

The small gaps in her memory left chasms for us to navigate, often from separate sides.

And even now that those conversations weren’t a daily occurrence between us, my body tensed in anticipation.

I covered her hand with mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Aunt Mercy, Jimmy’s in Florida, remember? He’s not coming to visit.”

Her lips twitched, eyes darting to mine and then back to the pastry in front of her before she laughed. “Of course, dear. What a silly mistake.”

I sighed, relieved the conversation hadn’t deteriorated into an argument. “Happens to the best of us. But I’ll bring it by. I’m sorry I keep forgetting.”

“Don’t worry yourself with it. You’re young and you have a life.” She ripped the cinnamon roll into tiny pieces, eating a nibble. “What have you been up to?”

“Not a lot.” I shook my head. “Actually, I’ve been really busy. I took up pottery, and I met someone.”

She dropped the cinnamon roll and turned to me with a grin. “You met someone? Someone handsome?”

I nodded. “He’s pretty handsome.”

“And have you gone on a date with this someone handsome?”

“Not yet.”

“Then he’s a fool.”

I grinned. “He’s afraid that he’s too old for me and he has a kid.”

“You’re a teacher. You love kids. What could be more perfect? And as for age, it’s just a number. Or at least, that’s what Walter keeps telling me. The man’s almost one hundred. Who wants to date at one hundred?”

“Are you dating someone, Aunt Mercy?”

She batted my hand. “I’m just talking to some old fool, is all.”