Lethal Literature Page 2

  I left the bowl and got to work. A few moments later as I pulled out a box of books donated for our literacy drive, I heard the buzzer on the front door and then the swish of the doors opening and knew Princess was on a rampage. I cringed. She was probably going to wreak havoc on the neighbor’s garden for breakfast.

  Thankfully, the morning went by quickly, but my thoughts were still focused on Isla Sperry being trapped in the clutches of Alzheimer’s. I’d known Isla since I was eight years old. Even when I moved away to Colorado at seventeen, Isla had tracked me down. She’d sent me birthday cards every year and graduation cards when I graduated from high school and then college. When I returned to Hazel Rock, she was still a regular customer at the Barn until she’d fallen and broken her hip. At that time, she moved to a long-term care facility, and I’d only visited her a few times. Each time she greeted me with a smile and a kiss. Looking back, I realized I should have questioned the times when she appeared confused. I had no idea Alzheimer’s had been the cause; I’d thought it was the pain medication she’d been given, coupled with fatigue, that had caused her lapses. Our conversations were warm, and she’d always seemed coherent, even if some of our topics of conversation were repeated a couple of times.

  This morning’s news, however, was a game changer. I needed to see her before I went away for the weekend. Isla was the only grandmotherly figure I had in my life since both sets of mine had died before I was born. The little old lady who came into the Book Barn a couple times a week to see me as a child deserved better from me as an adult.

  Daddy came in just before noon, and I’d already made up my mind. I needed to get out of the Barn for a couple hours. “I’m going to go out for lunch. Do you mind?”

  Daddy looked up from the computer screen that he was using to log in to our new inventory program for books. “Are you meeting Scarlet?”

  “No, I think I’ll head into Oak Grove and pick up some barbecue.”

  “It’s Wednesday, the diner is having barbecued ribs.”

  “I know, but I have another stop to make.”

  Dad got an all-knowing look in his eyes as he smiled and let out a puff of air through his nostrils. “I got it. You’re meeting someone and you don’t want me to know about it. Your love life is your business, Princess.”

  There was no doubt Daddy thought I was going to meet Mateo. My love life, however, had nothing to do with it. My guilt did. I wasn’t sure why I was holding back where I planned to spend my afternoon from my dad, but for some reason, I felt the need to hide that I was going to see Isla.

  It didn’t seem to make sense. Over the past year my dad and I had buried many of our differences and misunderstandings, but some things we could not discuss. The Sperrys and our love lives were on top of that list.

  I grabbed the stack of cozy mysteries I’d set aside for Isla and left the Barn without any further discussion. Since I’d returned home, I’d been using my daddy’s old beat-up Ford pickup that bore more rust than paint. The heavy metal door squeaked something awful when I opened it and jumped up onto the worn vinyl. I winced as the day’s heat burned through my clothing and slammed the door with a loud thunk. The truck’s old seat was cracked and covered with duct tape, but it could still peel the skin right off the back of my thighs in the relentless Texas heat. The gas gauge didn’t work and the windows cranked down manually, but somehow the truck seemed fitting while I was living in Texas.

  On my way down the road I could smell the spring flowers in the air and I could hear the birds singing and the sound of children’s laughter at the only daycare we had in town. The truck bounced and rattled its way across the bridge over the river as I headed into Oak Grove. The drive was about as uneventful as my typical Saturday night, and I made it to the long-term care facility in record time.

  I parked in the small parking lot off the circular drive next to the entrance. I’d always thought the sprawling ranch looked a lot like the funeral home in Hazel Rock, and it creeped me out. The similarities always made me think about moving from one place to the next, and I wasn’t sure how the residents could stand it. Then again, maybe it gave them comfort—their surroundings wouldn’t change much.

  I approached the entrance feeling like I was one step away from death’s door, especially when I got a closer look at the man to the left of the doors, sitting in a wheelchair under the covered porch, his chin resting against his chest. His skin clung to the bones on his hands and face with no meat between his skeleton and the pale covering that looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in a century, despite the fact that the man was sitting outside. He was wrapped in a blanket while wearing a coat, and I felt the need to sweat for him in the warm breeze. The soft snoring sounds he made were the only indication he was still breathing. I walked by quietly, trying to be respectful and not disturb his sleep as I entered the front door. Off to my right was the reception desk where a skinny woman I guessed to be in her late forties was laughing and talking to three elderly gentlemen sitting against the wall in chairs lined up like they were ready to go into a doctor’s office. On the opposite side of the foyer, an elderly couple sat holding hands across the armrests of their chairs. They were staring straight ahead in silence, as if somehow, they could see a better view than the white tile floors and beige walls the facility afforded. I imagined them looking across the shadowed elevations as the setting sun painted a spectacular view of the Texas Hill Country at dusk. I liked that view better as well.

  I said hello to the couple who nodded in my direction as one, then I turned to the woman at the reception desk. She had kind eyes and a weathered face that I suspected made her look older than what she actually was. Her thin brown hair stopped at her chin in a blunt bob hairstyle. The name tag on her shirt read Joan.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Guilt washed over me. If I was a regular she would’ve recognized me, but she didn’t. “I’m here to see Isla Sperry,” I said.

  “Is she expecting you?”

  “No. Should I have called?”

  She quickly smiled to ease my uncertainty. “Of course not. We love surprise visits. I’ll just call her room for you.”

  One of the men sitting in the chairs next to us pulled himself to his feet, his joints creaking with the movement. “I’d be happy to get Isla for you. Just give me a minute and I’ll bring her back.” Shoulders straightened as far as nature would allow, the gentleman disappeared down the hallway to my right. The sound of his whistling a military hymn grew softer as he progressed.

  “Are you related to Mrs. Sperry?” Joan asked.

  I shook my head. “No, she’s just a good friend, but she was like a grandmother to me when I was growing up.”

  “I would have sworn you were related. You have her eyes . . .” She scanned my face further before saying, “And her chin.”

  The fact that Joan could see similarities in our features said something about the woman behind the desk. Even though I rarely ran across racial issues in Hazel Rock, my darker skin tone tended to differentiate me from the rest of Hazel Rock. Going outside my small hometown, however, was hit or miss with my biracial ethnicity. I glanced at the men sitting against the wall, and they nodded in agreement with Joan.

  “You know what they say about husbands and wives gaining similar features as they age. Maybe the same can be said about grandma figures.” I looked at the men. “And grandfathers.”

  The older of the two snorted. “God forbid anyone takes on Frank’s nose.”

  I couldn’t help but look at the man sitting next to him. Frank’s nose was large and bulbous. Not a nose I would want to inherit, but it had a certain amount of character that looked good on Frank.

  Frank laughed, loud and deep from his round belly. “Child, if you got my nose, I’d pay for the plastic surgery.”

  I instantly loved Frank and winked at him. “I’d be honored to have half your nose.”

 
“If you had half his nose, you’d need collagen injections just so people could see your lips.”

  Frank elbowed his partner, and Joan and I laughed.

  “Those are two of my three amigos,” she said. “Hopefully, the third can find his way back to the lobby with Isla.”

  Since things were going so well, I decided to break every HIPAA rule in the book and see what I could find out about Isla’s current condition. “How has Isla been doing this week? Is her memory still slipping from time to time?”

  “This week has been particularly difficult for Isla. Tomorrow is her birthday, you know.” She looked at my hands like my shopping bag full of books wasn’t quite wrapped well enough for a present. And it wasn’t, because I’d had no idea when Isla’s birthday was. Another sign of my self-centeredness. I’d never thought to remember her birthday like she had mine. Even for my thirtieth birthday, she’d sent a birthday card and written a wonderful note about my mom despite having only known my mom a couple years before she died when I was a child.

  “I can’t come by tomorrow, but you can be sure, there will be a delivery for her in the afternoon.”

  Joan’s smile slipped from genuinely friendly to merely polite. She didn’t like me staying away on Isla’s birthday, but I’d had a date scheduled for months. There was no way I could cancel now.

  “We’ll put on a show for Isla.” The two men sitting against the wall bumped elbows and winked at each other, a little snicker passing between them.

  “I don’t think the Judge would approve of the type of show you two would want to put on,” Joan warned.

  Frank rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Aw, the heck with old Sperry. The starch in his robes cut off the blood circulation to his brain years ago.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. Judge Sperry had enough starch in his robes to keep his body standing up straight long after the man died.

  Joan shook her head as if she were tolerating the antics of a bunch of three-year-olds. “You leave Isla and the Judge alone, or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  “Sometimes I think he’s starched your shirt as well, Joan.”

  I thought that comment might irritate Joan, but she smiled and laughed as Isla entered the foyer on the arm of the gray-haired gentleman who had gone to retrieve her.

  At five foot two inches tall, Isla Sperry was a force to be reckoned with, or at least I’d always thought she was. Standing next to the third amigo, however, she seemed slightly lost and confused. Her smile wasn’t quite as bright as the last time I’d seen her. Her gray hair was pulled back in the ponytail she always wore but seemed messier than usual. Strands of hair hung loose at her neck, and the ponytail was off-center.

  She’d never been a fancy woman, but she’d always been put together perfectly. Today, as she walked in leaning heavily on her cane, she was a completely different person. When she released the man’s arm, she immediately began fidgeting with her button-up blouse that was slightly wrinkled, while her khaki capris hitched up on one side. Instead of her everyday bright white sneakers, Isla was wearing slippers.

  Maybe if I hadn’t been looking, I wouldn’t have noticed the difference in her appearance, but today I was aware of the changes. And it hurt.

  I smiled through the pain and walked over to hug the only grandmother I’d ever known. We may not have been blood, but she was still very dear to me.

  “I can’t believe I warrant two visits in one day,” Isla said as she pulled back and gazed into my eyes.

  “Two?” I asked.

  Isla smiled. “Your father was here this morning.”

  “Really? I had no idea.”

  “I think that’s the way Bobby Ray likes it.” Isla nodded to the man who walked her from her room before grabbing hold of my arm. “Would you like to walk in the gardens?”

  “That sounds like the perfect place to show you the books I brought today.” Luckily for me, it was breezy enough that the heat wouldn’t bother me, because the odors from inside were beginning to wreak havoc with my mind. Cleaners mixing with a hint of urine had to be the worst kind of reminder of our mortality.

  Isla and I made our way to the rear of the residence, passing by a room with a handful of white-haired people playing bingo. A few seemed to enjoy it, while the others appeared to be passing the time minute by minute, hour by hour.

  Isla squeezed my arm. “It’s not as bad as you might think.” I tried to hide my skepticism, but she saw right through my blank expression. “Really, it’s not that bad. As you age, your sense of smell deteriorates. Your eyesight isn’t as sharp, and your mind . . . well, I think everyone knows what’s happening to mine.”

  It was my turn to see right through Isla’s attempt to minimize her condition. There was fear in her eyes, and I wasn’t sure how anyone could accept the knowledge that everything was slipping away while their body remained healthy. “You have one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever known,” I said. Isla smiled up at me, and I changed the subject before she could argue. “What was Bobby Ray doing here?”

  “Your father comes to see me a couple of times a week. He’s a good boy. I couldn’t ask for a better one.”

  I tried to hide my shock and failed. I covered with bland conversation. “A couple times a week? I had no idea you guys were that close.”

  “When you left town, your daddy needed family. I knew what it was like to lose a child. I didn’t want him to think he was alone. At first, he resisted all my attempts, but on one particularly hard day, he broke down in my arms.”

  We walked through the garden to our normal spot under the large cottonwood tree at the back of the garden and sat down on the bench. I wasn’t sure what to think of this conversation. The raw emotion in her voice caused tears to well in my eyes. Was it real? Or was it a figment of Isla’s deteriorating mind? Accepting that I’d caused my daddy so much pain he’d turned to a virtual stranger for support was like breaking a bronco—my emotions went on a wild ride that I wasn’t particularly fond of. Running away at seventeen was one of the worst things I’d ever done. But I’d landed on my feet thanks to my destination at my aunt Violet’s house in Colorado. She’d finish raising me when I shut my dad out of my life over mistakes neither one of us could take back.

  I’d been lucky to get the second chance at a relationship with him. Looking back was the last thing either one of us needed to do.

  “He never told me the two of you were close,” I confessed.

  “There’s a lot of things Bobby Ray hasn’t told you.”

  Before I could ask her what she meant, Isla asked, “What brings you to Oak Grove Manor today?”

  I set the bag of books on my lap and smiled. “I know tomorrow is a special day, but I’ll be out of town for the weekend and I wanted to make sure I wished you a happy birthday.”

  The wrinkles on her forehead drew together. “Tomorrow’s my birthday?”

  Talking to Isla had always come easy. Today, it was hard and stilted. We seemed to be on very different wavelengths. “I saw Ava this morning. She told me tomorrow was your birthday.” I lied. The last thing Isla needed to hear was that I’d just learned about her birthday from a virtual stranger.

  “Ava? Do you mean Ava James?” she asked.

  “Yeah. You know, the Judge’s clerk?” Confusion passed over her face. Maybe now was the time to find out if my dad ever talked about Ava. Part of me wanted to know I wasn’t the only one in the dark about the relationship; the other part hoped Isla had some information to share on the topic and our conversation would go back to the way it’d always been. “I ran into her at Dad’s house this morning.”

  “They weren’t fighting, were they?” she asked.

  Confused, I shook my head.

  “I’m so glad the two of them are getting along. Your daddy was always jealous of Ava James.”

  “Jealous?” That was the last thing I expected
Isla to say. What could possibly cause my daddy to be jealous of Ava? Biting my lip, I waited for Isla to fill in the silence. I watched as she picked a flower and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger.

  “Bobby Ray didn’t understand the Judge’s relationship with Ava. It bothered him more than you can possibly know.” Isla’s gaze snapped from the flowers to my face. A look of pure panic widened her eyes and caused her jaw to drop open. I squeezed her hand, unsure of what caused her agitation but eager to make her feel at ease.

  “Are you okay?”

  Isla dropped her head and began rubbing my hand with both of hers as if she was afraid I’d pull it away. “I think I did something horrible this morning,” she whispered.

  Before I could ask why she believed that, footsteps crunched against the pebbled path leading to the bench. Mason Andrews, the director of the retirement home, appeared from the other side of a red-china rose bush, his face flushed with both concern and relief as he took in Ava. Like me, the tall slender man in his late thirties with thinning hair and slightly droopy eyes noticed Ava’s unkempt hair. He catalogued the wrinkles in her shirt and slacks then focused on the way she desperately wrung my hand. Isla glanced at him, but her gaze immediately shot to the ground in what looked like a combination of shame and embarrassment.

  Mr. Andrews spared me no more than a curt nod before he squatted down in front of Isla and peered up into her down-turned face.

  “Are you okay, Isla?”

  Isla nodded.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I should have been here,” Mr. Andrews said.

  “Is it true?” Isla asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I knew better than to interject. Mr. Andrews cared for Isla; that was obvious. I also knew she had a soft spot for Mr. Andrews, who’d always treated her with kind regard in my presence during the few visits I’d made.

  Mr. Andrews nodded, then reached up and wiped the tear from her cheek. “When I came to work this morning, you weren’t in your room. I came outside thinking you were in the garden, but you weren’t here either. I called the police, and they said they’d look for you, but . . .”