Page 35 of Delay of Game (Norwalk Breakers #4)

THIRTY-FIVE

GRACIE

A late night of cleaning left my body exhausted and my eyes bloodshot. I hadn’t gotten more than a few hours of sleep before my alarm went off and I’d groggily driven to the airport to pick up my parents. Now, I struggled to stay away while my parents inspected the house.

“Well, kiddo.” Dad walked back into the living room, hands in his pockets. “What the hell am I supposed to do for the next ten days?”

I smiled, standing up. “Does it look okay?”

“It looks amazing. How did you pull all this off?” He patted my back. “No offense, but this place was a bit worn down last time I saw it.”

“I had some help.” I bit back a wince, the soft ache of longing in my chest bubbling to the surface at the thought of Rob.

“It looks great, sweetie.” Mom glided in on a cloud of perfume in warmth, pulling me into an all-encompassing hug that made me feel like a kid again. “I am amazed.”

She pulled away, and my parents shared a relieved look.

“She was just telling me about her help,” Dad said.

“Help?” Mom reared on me. “You didn’t pay anyone, right? Because that can come out of the escrow. I don’t want you using your money?—”

“Just a friend, Mom,” I interrupted her before she launched into a diatribe about my finances. An unnecessary one, considering I had recently been apartment shopping. “He didn’t charge me anything.”

“A friend?” she drawled, eyebrows raised. “What kind of friend?”

The kind of friend who didn’t want to date me. The kind of friend who wasn’t around anymore.

“His mom is friends with Aunt Mercy. He did me a favor.” I bit my lip, stopping myself from saying anything else revealing.

Besides an email from the Norwalk Breakers PR department sending over three tickets for the game next week, I hadn’t heard from Rob.

My chest hadn’t unclenched since that night outside the Crown & Copper.

Mom’s face fell. “Oh.”

“Leave her be,” Dad warned under his breath.

“Well, that’s still nice of him,” Mom said.

Dad cleared his throat. “I’ll text the realtor, see if they can come by Monday to take pictures. We should be able to clear out the rest of Aunt Mercy’s stuff by then.”

“And speaking of Aunt Mercy, do you think she’ll be up for a visit?” My mom’s pine green eyes turned glassy. “I’d really love to see her.”

I nodded. They hadn’t even unpacked, but visiting Aunt Mercy would keep my mind off of Rob. And I’d take just about any distraction.

“Sure.” I forced a smile. “I’ll grab my keys.”

I drove the long way to the memory care facility, avoiding Rob’s house and stopping by June’s diner to pick up lunch.

Dad, a true New England Yankee, wrinkled his nose at Southern fare, upset that meat and three restaurants considered mac and cheese a vegetable along with deep fried everything else.

He consoled himself with a double serving of baked chicken while Mom ordered enough food to feed us three times over.

We pulled into Aunt Mercy’s just past noon. Early in the day, but I still crossed my fingers and made a quiet wish that she was having a lucid day.

“This is nice.” Dad whistled under his breath as he craned his neck to look up at the building.

“They’ve got a garden out back and the staff are great. She’s been really happy here.” I emphasized the last point, glancing at Mom through the rearview mirror.

Her shoulders bunched and her mouth turned into a thin line.

Nervous energy radiated off her body and I could practically hear her internal monologue asking whether she’d made the right choice to move Aunt Mercy into the facility.

The same one that’d run on a loop in my head the first few weeks after she’d moved.

I led my parents up the stairs and inside, pausing at the front desk.

“Ms. Gracie, nice to see you,” Brenda greeted me with a smile as she set a pen on the visitor log. “And who did you bring with you today?”

“Brenda, these are my parents. Alice and Gary.”

“I think we’ve spoken on the phone.” Mom smiled and held out her hand.

“Of course, it’s so nice that you all made the flight to visit. How long are you staying?”

“Well, we planned to stay for ten days to help spruce up Mercy’s house before putting it on the market.” Dad wrapped an arm around me and gave me a squeeze. “But Gracie here did it herself. So I guess we’ll need to find something else to fill up our days.”

“She’s a sweetheart.” Brenda gave me a warm smile and took back the visitor’s log. “Aunt Mercy is incredibly lucky to have so many loved ones who come and visit.”

“And how is she doing today?” I asked, bracing myself.

Brenda lowered her voice. “She didn’t sleep well last night, but we convinced her to sleep in this morning. I brought her breakfast in bed. She’s tired and a little disoriented, but in a good mood. She should still be in her room. Have a nice visit.”

I led my parents up the stairs and down the hallway to Aunt Mercy’s room. Colorful wreaths decorated the doors, changed out with the season and each personalized with the resident’s name. I paused before knocking, turning back to my parents.

“Her mood is a little more volatile lately. They’re doing what they can with medication, but she might not remember your name.

Not at first,” I said, hoping she’d remember my mom at all.

Mom wiped the tear away from the corner of her eye with her palm.

“And if she doesn’t, let’s just roll with it, okay? ”

The request was easier said than done.

I knocked on the door, entering when Aunt Mercy called us in.

“Hi,” I said, ready for the worst but hopeful for the best.

“Gracie, come here.” She sat in her bed, her quilt covering her legs and her gray hair pulled back into a low bun. The breakfast dishes from earlier sat off to the side, barely touched. Dark bags hung from her eyes. Still, she pulled me into a fierce hug.

“Guess who I brought?” I asked, squeezing her back.

She let me go, glassy eyes wandering to my parents. “Alice! You’ve grown!”

Mom burst into tears, collapsing into Aunt Mercy like a child. Aunt Mercy shushed her, rubbing her back until she gathered herself.

“How are you doing, Merc?” Dad approached the bed, setting down the styrofoam encased food on the edge of her side table.

Aunt Mercy’s mouth twisted into a frown, her jaw working to come up with a name.

“Gary,” Dad said.

“Right, silly me. My mind these days. Come here, Gary.” A faint flicker of confusion passed over her face before she pulled him into a hug, not nearly as intense as the two before it.

“We brought you June’s.” Dad picked up the bags, searching for a proper table in the single room.

“That sounds amazing. I’m so hungry,” Aunt Mercy enthused.

“The cafeteria is downstairs. The staff can set us up at a table.” I offered Aunt Mercy my hand, helping her up.

“I left such a mess after breakfast. I should clean it up first.” Her brow furrowed at the leftover dishes.

“I’ll get it,” I said, eager to give Mom and Dad some time alone with her. “Go on downstairs. I’ll be right behind you.”

Mom took Aunt Mercy’s arm and Dad opened the door.

I dawdled as I cleaned up the breakfast dishes and remade her bed.

The room wasn’t big, little more than a bedroom and a bathroom, but she had lined the shelves with pictures and a stack of books balanced precariously on the small table beside the window.

I ran my fingers down the worn spines of the books, sliding my fingers across the table to another book, all by itself. “Mercedes’ Daily Log.” I picked up the slim book, skimming over the entries of how she spent her days.

Saturday: Gracie, your niece, stopped by for a visit. You walked around the garden for an hour talking.

Friday: You took a trip into town today to go shopping at Colonial Mills Plaza. You bought three cookies to bring back to your room.

Thursday: Played Bingo in the community room and ate dinner with Dot.

Wednesday: Jimmy brought you croissants from Tony’s bakery. You ate with him in the sunroom.

Tuesday: It was a big day! You taught Jimmy how to play Bunco in the garden. Ate lunch with the Ladies Who Lunch Club and then watched Encanto after dinner.

I sucked in a breath, turning back to the week before.

Tuesday: You had a hard time sleeping and asked for Jimmy. We gave him a call and He visited the next morning. You both watched Matlock all morning.

My heart pounded in my chest. I flipped back another page, nearly ripping the sheet.

Wednesday: Jimmy brought June’s for lunch, and you ate together in the dining room with Dot.

With trembling fingers, I picked up the book, convinced there was some mistake. Jimmy didn’t visit Aunt Mercy. Certainly not every week.

Clutching the book to my chest, I raced down the halls, past the cafeteria with a distracted wave to my family on the way to the front desk. A resident leaned over the front desk, muttering in a low hum at Brenda. I waited until he shuffled away before I placed the book on the desk.

“Jimmy,” I said, opening the book and pointing to an entry three weeks ago.

Her face broke into a smile as she leaned forward to read the entry. “Oh, honey, that boy. He’s a charmer. He catered lunch for the entire staff that day and then made sure the night shift had a meal, too.”

I shook my head. “No, that can’t be right. Jimmy lives at a retirement home in Miami. He hasn’t seen Aunt Mercy in years, decades maybe.”

Brenda’s smile fell away and confusion took its place. “Oh. I didn’t even know there was a real Jimmy. That’s just what Ms. Mercy calls him.”

“What she calls who?” I filled the blanks in myself, but I wanted to hear it from her lips.

“Rob, honey. Rob Grant. That football player you brought in here.”

“He visits?” Tears welled in my eyes, but I bit them back.

“Every week, sometimes twice a week.” She frowned, concerned at my reaction. “You put him on the visitor’s list the first time he came with you. We thought you knew. I can take him off?—”

“No,” I interrupted, a little too loud. “No, don’t do that. Although he’s probably stopped coming already.”

“No,” she metered out the word as she stood up, flipping to this week’s entries. “He was here Tuesday and yesterday. Same as every other week.”

“Really?” A tear slipped down my face and I rubbed it away with the back of my hand. “He still visited?”

“Is something wrong, Ms. Evans?”

I shook my head, collecting the book. “No. Nothing at all. I just…he didn’t tell me.”

“Hmph,” Brenda sighed and crossed her arms with a smile. “It’s those strong, silent types that’ll get you, huh?”

I nodded, retracing my steps back to Aunt Mercy’s room and returning the book. I slipped my phone out of my pocket. Rob’s last text stared back, but my reply wouldn’t fit in a single text. Or a dozen.

I called Gloria, instead.