She even labeled the Christmas decorations.”
I laughed. “She sounds organized.”
“She was terrifying!” For the first time, he smiled properly. “If I put the cumin back where the paprika belonged, she’d appear from another room like some kind of spirit.”
He blinked.
“Tom. Good Lord, listen to me. Here you are helping me, and I haven’t even introduced myself.”
I held out my hand.
“Ruth.” Tom shook it.
At the register, the wheels nearly came off again. He fumbled for his wallet, pulled out his card, dropped it, bent to get it, and nearly lost his balance.
I caught the card before it slid under the candy display.
“Thank you.” He turned to the cashier.
“I’m so sorry, miss.”
“No problem, sir.” The cashier smiled.
Outside, Tom stood beside the cart with the grocery bags at his feet and seemed to sag all at once. “I almost didn’t come in. I didn’t think I could do it alone.”
“But you did.”
I meant it kindly, but the truth was more complicated.
He’d done it, yes, but barely. And not only because he was grieving. There were gaps in him I recognized too well.
He gave me a small, tired smile.
Then the paper slipped from his hand.
I bent to pick it up before the wind could take it.
As I lifted it, the sun shone through the thin sheet from behind.
There were faint grooves impressed into the page.
There were letters there, like someone had written on a sheet of paper placed on top of this one.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
I held it out. “Look.”
He took the paper and turned it toward the sun.
I watched his face shift as he found the marks and began tracing them with his eyes.
His whole body went still, then tears began running down his face.
“Oh, God,” he whispered.
“Oh God… Maeve, what have you done? How could you betray me like this?”
I didn’t ask what it said — I’d seen enough to know it was bad.
He was breathing fast and looked like his whole world had just collapsed.
I couldn’t just leave him there, not after that.
“How did you get here?” I asked.
He wiped his tears away. “I walked.”
I looked out toward the road. The store was on the edge of town, not an impossible walking distance, but not easy either, especially carrying groceries.
“That’s not necessary.” His face hardened.
“I can take care of myself. I can.“
“Your bags are heavy, and you’ve had a shock. I just want to help you get home, Tom.”
He opened his mouth to protest again, then looked down at the paper in his hand and seemed to lose the energy for pride.
So I loaded the bags into my trunk and drove to the address he gave me.
When I pulled into the driveway, the front door burst open.
“Dad!” A woman in her 40s hurried toward us. “Where have you been?
I’ve called six times.”
“I went to the store. What is this, Jennifer?” Tom held up the shopping list and read aloud. “‘Jen, start arrangements for Tom at assisted living.’ What were you and Maeve up to behind my back?”
She slowed, and her eyes narrowed.
“Mom told me you weren’t managing. When she realized she wasn’t going to get better, she asked me to look at options.”
