Granddad's House (On Geneva Shores) (26 page)

“Yes, sir. His older brother. I live in Evergreen, Washington. Why wasn’t I informed?”

“His records listed first next of kin as Katie. My aide must have assumed she was his mother or his wife. You were next on my list to call. My apologies that I didn’t reach you earlier. By the way, he’s a captain.”

“When did that happen?”

“A couple months ago. Field promotion, and he’s been recommended for the Navy Cross—for bravery, from some of the action his platoon was in earlier.”

Figures. Paul had never said a word about any promotion during R&R. The idiot never knew when to quit. “Tell me what you know, Colonel.”

The man sighed. “Not much. His vehicle was on a road they had just scanned for IEDs an hour before. The vehicle in front of them hit one anyway. Paul called it in—that their vehicles were disabled and he needed a medic for his first sergeant, but by the time the
helo got there, they were gone. The sergeant’s body was there, at the scene—and what was left of the Humvees. We have patrols out now, trying to find him and the others. We think they were captured, but maybe friendlies took them in.”

“If his Humvee was behind the first one, why couldn’t he drive out of there?”

“Shrapnel from the blast took it out. When the helo touched down, there wasn’t much left of either vehicle.”

Beau’s heart pounded. His younger brother, so tall, blond and muscular. He recalled Paul standing proud when his second lieutenant’s bars were pinned on, the month before he was sent
to his first duty station. When was that—five years ago? Gung ho Paul, who’d insisted it was his duty to fight after the towers were brought down. He graduated at the top of his class in Marine ROTC.

“Will you please keep me informed of whatever you learn?”

“Of course. Is this the best way for us to reach you?” The colonel read off Beau’s home number.

“No. Use my cell. Day or night. And I’d prefer you call me before you reach my sister. She doesn’t handle this sort of news very well.”

“I understand. Thank you for calling, Mr. James. We intend to find your brother and the rest of his squad and bring them back. Alive.”

Beau nodded. “Yes, sir.” He sank back into his chair after the call, his head in his hands. He picked up the phone, called Ted and filled him in on what he had learned. “The colonel said he’d get to me first with news. I’ll email you the minute I hear anything and follow it up with a call. Do you prefer that I use your cell? Can you answer it at the hospital? How’s Katie doing?”

“I gave her a sleeping pill after she talked to you. She hasn’t slept much since … Call me anytime. I’ll know it’s you. Unless I’m in surgery, I’ll answer. If I’m in the OR, I’ll instruct the nurse to tell me as soon as I’m free.”

“Will do. Thanks for letting me know, Ted.”

“We’re family, Beau. We stick together.”

“Right.”
Let’s hope our family still includes Paul.
“Give Katie a hug for me.”

He was sipping two fingers of whiskey, the second one he’d poured, when the phone rang. It was Olivia.

“I can’t see you tonight. I’m not in a good place right now, Olivia,” he said before she had a chance to speak.

“What’s the matter?”

He gave her the short version.

Half an hour later she was knocking on his door. He opened it and she enveloped him in a hug that took his breath away.

“You can’t be alone with this news. I won’t let you.” She stopped, eyeing the drink in his hand. “That won’t help you forget.”

“I wasn’t drinking to forget. I just thought maybe it might help me sleep.”

“I’ll make you some tea. Chamomile. That will help. Do you have any?” She went into the kitchen and began rummaging through drawers.

“Look up and to the left of the microwave.”

“Your kitchen is so organized: a place for everything and everything in its place,” she called over her shoulder.

As if he cared right now. But he let her bring him a steaming pot of tea, and two mugs. She put one in his hand and took away the empty jigger. “Drink this.”

He sipped it. “Too hot and it takes like mud.”

“It will help you sleep if it’s hot when you drink it.” She rose and stood behind him. “Lean forward, please.” She began to massage his shoulders and his neck, his muscles so tight she exclaimed and concentrated on them until they began to loosen and he could move his head from side to side without wincing. “Close your eyes, hon.” She began to hum in his ear as her hands moved up and gave him a scalp massage before coming back down to his neck and shoulders. “Is that better?” She sat down next to him.

He put down his half-empty mug of tea and pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around him and held him as his shoulders began to shake.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I didn’t mean to break down. But Paul … he’s my baby brother. I never expected this kind of news. He was supposed to be home next month. We were hoping he wouldn’t have to go back. And there’s not a thing I can do to help him. I used to haul him home whenever he did something stupid—getting stuck in a tree, or that time he and a neighbor kid built a rickety raft and poled it out into the middle of a pond and it sank under them. They were up to their waists in muck before Dad and I pulled them out. This time I can’t go get him.”

She said nothing. When he looked at her, she wiped his tears and pulled at him to stand up.

“Come on. You need to sleep. How can you get through tomorrow if you don’t rest tonight?”

He shook his head. “I can’t sleep. I’ll never sleep—not until I hear he’s safe.”

“Yes, you will. Come on, Beau. Let me help you.”

She walked him into his bedroom and pulled back the coverlet and the sheets beneath it.

“I’ll clean up the kitchen. You climb into bed.” She left him and when she returned, he was in bed, lying there looking at the ceiling, trying to keep his feeling of helplessness in check.

She leaned down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep. So you aren’t alone.”

“No.” He shook his head. “If you’re going to stay here, you’ll do so in my arms. I can’t stand the thought of you just—sitting—there.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. He threw back the sheet so she could slide in next to him.

She doffed her clothes and climbed into his bed. She held him until he began to relax. He

closed
his eyes, but his dreams that night were chaotic.

Sometime in the middle of the night, his cell phone bounced on the table next to his bed. He grabbed for it as if he’d never slept.

“Yes, colonel.” He nodded as he listened. “I understand. I’ll be here. I’ll let my sister know. Thank you.”

He turned to her, his heart seared with pain. “They found one of his buddies—the colonel said it looked like he’d been tortured. His body was dumped on the road where the locals knew our troops would find it. Paul and two of his men are still missing. The colonel thinks they’re being held to exchange for some prisoners.”

“Oh, darling.” Olivia held him tightly. “Do you want to call your sister now, or wait for more news, better news?”

“I need to call Ted.”

She nodded. “Then I’ll give you some privacy,” and she walked into the living room.

He sat up in bed and called his brother-in-law, then paced until the sun began to peek over the far hills on the other side of the lake. When he entered the living room, he saw that Olivia had wrapped herself in a small blanket and was asleep on the couch.

He picked her up and brought her back to bed. She wrapped her arms around him until he finally fell asleep after whispering her name for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

In the morning, Olivia returned to her house and changed into business clothes. Her mind kept skittering back to Beau and how he was doing. He had said he would go into the office, but she knew his mind would be on what was happening half a world away, in a place he could not go, where he could not rescue his brother or even comfort his sister. She handled calls in a perfunctory manner and left early to visit her grandfather.

He wasn’t at the condo when she arrived.

A neighbor waved to her when she came out onto the deck. “If you’re looking for Robert, he said something about going to see his wife.”

She waved back and thanked him. When Olivia reached the cemetery, her grandfather was sitting next to her grandmother’s headstone. She could tell he was talking. She stood near a tree and waited, not wanting to disturb him.

“You’d like him, Esther. He’s strong and movie-star handsome if I do say so. Reminds me of that actor you always liked so much—the one with the dark wavy hair. I think Livvy likes him, even though she won’t admit it. You know how she is—always wanting the upper hand. But he’s not the kind to let her take charge, not of everything, anyway. My problem is I don’t know how to stay out of the way so he can convince her. She’s so much like you—headstrong and stubborn. I wish you could talk to her, Essie. She always listened to you. She’s been running Jack’s office for so long and doing a good job. It’s grown some since she took over. But I don’t want her thinking she has to keep doing that, not when I know her heart isn’t always in it. I can see it in her eyes when she sees little kids. Well, I have to go. It’s getting kind of cold and I need to go home. Some days I’m so tired I just go to bed without supper. It doesn’t seem worth eating. And I miss our house. Not that the condo isn’t nice. But it’s not the same. I wish you were here. I miss you so much, every day.”  He leaned down and kissed the name on the headstone, then rose slowly and headed back toward the road.

Olivia walked around the tree that hid her from view. She allowed him time to walk toward the exit lane, then went back to her car and drove up beside him. “Granddad, can I take you home?”

“How’d you know I was here?”

“Your neighbor told me. I came by to see if I could make you dinner tonight.”

“No need. It’s in the Crock-pot already. I’m making your grandmamma’s favorite chili recipe. You go on home. You look tired. I guess it’s been a long day for you.”

She drove him home, but he refused to let her come in. She returned home and called Beau, but there was no answer at his home or on his cell phone.
Maybe he was talking to the colonel again. She prayed his brother would be found alive, not wanting to speculate on the alternative.  She decided to stop at her favorite deli, pick up two dinners and bring them to Beau. No way would he be thinking of food when all he could think about was Paul.

When she arrived, she heard him talking to someone. She waited for silence and then knocked on the door. He opened it, still on the phone, but waved her in.

“I understand. I’ll wait for your call. Thank you, Colonel.”

When he closed the phone, he took the dinners from her and put them on the table. “They have a lead on where he might be. They’ve sent out another rescue party. He says they should know something in the next few hours.” He paced between the windows and the table before gathering her in his arms. “I’m glad you’re here. Stay with me tonight, Olivia.”

“If you want me to. But I think I should go home and get some other clothes—so I can leave from here tomorrow morning. Genevieve scheduled me with an appointment at nine sharp, something I should have done today, but I couldn’t keep my mind on business.”

Beau looked so tired: more than tired, heartsick. Olivia placed her hand on his cheek.

“Do that,” he said, before kissing her palm. “Bring whatever you want. I’ll make room for you.” He disappeared and she heard him pushing hangers around in the walk-in closet.

“We can eat when I get back,” she said.

“I’ll have the tea ready. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“I like the licorice infusion.”

He made a face. “I’ll save it for you and stick with the Earl Gray for myself.”

She chuckled. “Fine with me.”

When she returned, she had three changes of clothes, some nightgowns, make-up, three pairs of shoes and some jeans and shirts. She was moving in—at least for a while—to see how it went.

But she continued to worry about her grandfather. He had told Grandmamma he didn’t plan to eat dinner, but when she’d asked, he had said it was already fixed. If he didn’t plan to eat, was he also not going to check his glucose levels? Or take his insulin?
She would have to call him. When she reached him an hour later, he sounded as if he’d been sleeping. When she asked him about the chili, he said it was tasty, just like it was supposed to taste, and then grumpily told her to stop worrying about him.

If only she could. Granddad and his diabetes, Beau and how much she was in love with him—something she couldn’t deny—and now Beau’s missing brother. Helen’s ex-husband, in jail and charged with attempted murder. She was supposed to talk to the district attorney about what had happened at the office. That problem would simply have to wait unless she could handle it by phone.
You never told me it would be like this, Dad.

Chapter 16

Olivia divided her time between checking in with her grandfather and keeping a vigil with Beau while he waited for news about Paul.

“I’ll work my appointments until five, Genevieve. If anyone needs an evening appointment, please shift them to Bruce or
Mickie. Maybe Melanie could see them, since she’s kind of light on clients. Get back to me if any of my people are unhappy about this. I just can’t do evening appointments right now.”

“Is anything wrong?” Genevieve asked.

“Personal issues.” Olivia hitched her shoulders. “Just a few things I need to focus on for the time being.”

“I take it these personal issues include that handsome dog, Mr. Beauregard James?” Genevieve quipped.

Olivia nodded briefly, but gave her administrative assistant no other information. “That, too.” She left messages for her grandfather around noon, reminding him to check his blood sugars and to take his insulin. After her second call within as many hours, he became testy.

“I don’t need a nursemaid,
Livvy. Now, stop calling me if all you’re going to do is remind me about what I don’t need reminding about.”

The third evening she stopped over before dinner, he remained at the door.

“I’m not letting you in again, Livvy. I’m not a gol’ darn baby! I know how to take care of myself.”

She sighed. “Promise me you’ll take your insulin on time, Granddad.”

“I promise,” he said through the screen door.

She walked away to the sound of the deadbolt
snicking into place.

The fourth evening she went home to Beau’s, deciding not to call her grandfather. She would visit him over the weekend instead. Maybe if she didn’t call every day, Granddad would be in a better mood.

They were in the middle of dinner when Beau’s cell sounded.

“Colonel.” He listened for several minutes, the color in his face slowly draining away. “I’ll call my sister.” He reached for Olivia’s hand. “No need. Thank you, Colonel.”

His hand was shaking when he closed the phone. “They found another body, decapitated, in an officer’s uniform. The dog tags were missing, but they think it might be Paul.”

Olivia put her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. What are you going to do?”

“I have to call Ted and talk to Katie.” He sighed. “We’ll have to decide about burial if it’s Paul. I’m thinking Arlington, but the colonel said instructions about that would be in his personal effects. Paul had to write …” He ran his fingers through his hair. “He had to write instructions before he deployed.”

She held Beau as he wept.

When he finally pulled himself together, he picked up the phone. Beau gave Ted the latest news, leaving out details Olivia figured would be too hard for Katie to hear. When she came on the phone, Katie’s sobs sounded as if she was standing in the room beside her older brother.

What can I do?
Olivia went into the bedroom to give Beau time to talk privately with his sister, to make plans for an event they had hoped never to attend. 

When she rejoined him, he was saying, “I’ll meet the plane in Dover. It’s the least I can do. No, Katie, you don’t have to do that. But when I know it’s arriving, I’ll call you. I’ll email what we have to do to arrange for … yes, maybe Arlington or maybe next to the folks. Love you, Sis.”

He hung up and slumped into his chair, looking years older. “It’s times like this being the oldest is really shitty.”

“What do you want me to do? How can I help?”

He reached for her. “Just let me hold you, so I know life isn’t over, even though …” His tears returned and his shoulders shook.

He held her for the longest time and before he let her go, she was weeping, too.

“I have to call George. I need to take off tomorrow so I can concentrate on plans for Paul.”

Olivia left him to talk with George, opened her laptop and began surfing for information about burial at Arlington National Cemetery. Perhaps if she found what he needed to know, he wouldn’t have to do it.

When he returned to her side, she showed him what she had learned.

That night they snuggled together but slept little. When he wasn’t tossing, she was. Finally, when it seemed he was deeply asleep after pacing for more than an hour, she slid out of bed and went into the living room to sit on the couch so that she wouldn’t disturb him. When the sun rose and broke weakly through the clouds, she took a shower, dressed for work and left early, intent on finishing as much as possible before the rest of the staff arrived. An hour after Genevieve opened the office, Olivia left and drove over to her grandfather’s.

He was sitting in front of the television in a pair of pajamas and his favorite robe. It was clear he hadn’t had breakfast. She made him eat and when he said he hadn’t slept well, she urged him to go back to bed for a nap. Then she called the doctor.

“I’m worried about him. I don’t think he’s checking his glucose levels like he should or taking his insulin. There should have been only twenty vials here, and there are nearly thirty. And, when I looked at his desk for that record of glucose readings you asked him to keep, I found all kinds of bills—unpaid. He’s never done that before, forgetting to pay his bills. Some are more than thirty days late, from about the time he moved into the condo.”

“Bills that come regularly or ones he might not expect?” 

“Nothing unusual. From what I found, he hasn’t paid the electric bill or the gas bill or the homeowner’s association assessment.”

“Maybe you should bring him in.”

“I will. What do you think is the problem?”

“Hard to tell, but I’m wondering if we’re seeing some early signs of dementia.”

She gasped. “Dementia? You think so? I never thought … I’ll bring him in this afternoon.”

She sat down, stunned. What she had assumed was simply a problem with his diabetes medications now seemed to be so much more. Granddad’s forgetfulness bothered her the most. Was it Alzheimer’s? Maybe if she’d paid more attention, she would have noticed things sooner. But she’d been so busy, and her thoughts had spiraled continually around Beau the last several weeks. Her guilt at having neglected to pay more attention to her grandfather ate at her. She let him sleep until it was time for lunch, made his favorite soup and fresh rolls, and roused him to eat lunch and take his insulin. She found a re-run of
Questions
on one of the cable channels and asked him to guess the puzzles with her. He seemed to lose interest after the first two rounds, when the television contestants knew the words before he did.

Not the grandfather I know
.
Maybe she shouldn’t have encouraged him to move. Maybe all the changes, selling the house and buying the condo, were just too much for him.

That afternoon the doctor talked with her after he examined her grandfather.

“Robert gave me permission to include you in all medical decision-making. We can’t know for sure that it’s Alzheimer’s. Confirmation of that can’t be made until autopsy, but I see definite signs of dementia, one of the risks of aging. And he seems depressed—we call it situational depression—probably because of all the changes he’s experienced these last few weeks.”

She burst into tears. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have made him move. If I’d moved in with him, maybe that would have helped. I should have seen this coming.”

“Olivia, he told me he needed to get rid of that house, what he called his old white elephant. He told me he was wandering around from room to room and it was too much for him to take care of, especially after your grandmother died. And that you had to have your own life. He said he told you that.”

She blew her nose and nodded. “Right after Grandmamma died, he wasn’t staying on top of things. She used to get on his case about making sure the eaves were cleaned out if they needed it, and when painting was needed on the shutters. After she died, he just didn’t notice those things unless I asked him about it. But then, after a while, it was as if he got organized again. He seemed to be handling everything just fine until this past year.”

She wiped her eyes, certain her mascara was running. “I thought he liked his condo. He told me he did, except …” Her tears forced her to stop talking.

The doctor rose from his chair. “I’ve ordered a day nurse to come check on him, someone to pop over like a new friend. If you check on him in the evening and she does so during the day, maybe we can help him through this. If that doesn’t settle him down, I think you may need to look into assisted living one of these days. The sale of the condo would cover the costs of such care.”

“If he’ll go. He’s told me more than once he didn’t want to live with old people.” She couldn’t stop her mouth from quirking upward at the thought. “As if he isn’t. But he’s always been so active.” She reached for another tissue.

“He is a crotchety one at times, isn’t he? Let me talk to him. Maybe if he sees that it will make things easier for you, he’ll consider it.”

“Please don’t tell him that. I should be the one making things easier for him, not the other way around.”

“Then you mention it, too, if you think he’ll listen. But if he refuses, I want you to call me so I can talk to him again. He’s not the first of my patients I’ve had such a conversation with.”

She nodded and rejoined her grandfather who was chuckling with one of the nurses at the desk.

“Mr. Brown. You are a very bad man.” The nurse laughed before turning to the doctor.

“I was telling her a joke,
Livvy,” he explained as they walked out.

“Good. Let’s get you home.”

“You’ve been crying. What’s the matter? Was Doctor Dawson mean to you?”

“No. But I’m worried that you haven’t been taking your medicine like you should. That’s why he’s going to have someone check in with you during the day—to make sure you eat right and take your insulin on time.”

“He’s an interfering young whippersnapper,” he growled back at her. When she stopped at a red light, he put a restraining hand on her arm. “You were upset before you came over to see me today. What’s going on?”

That was when she lost it. “Oh, Granddad,” she cried, and reached for him. “Beau just heard that his brother may have been killed in Afghanistan and they’re going to have him buried in Arlington or maybe near his folks in North Carolina. He’s beside himself with grief, and I just don’t know how to help him.”

He held her, patted her back and raised a dismissive hand when a car behind them honked.  “Now, now, Livvy. You need to be with him so he isn’t alone. He shouldn’t be alone with this. Such terrible news. Don’t let him go through it by himself.”

She sniffed and began driving again, not caring that the car behind them had finally swooped around them, the driver giving her a dirty look.

“I guess you’re right. But I feel so helpless. There’s nothing I can do to take away the hurt.”

“Being there is all you need to do, honey. He’ll love you for it. I know he will.”

She barely acknowledged what her grandfather was saying. When they arrived at his condo, he climbed out of the car before she could help him. “No need to come in. I promise I’ll do better about taking my medicine. You go on back home. Better yet, call Beau and tell him you’re coming over. Why don’t you make him your grandmamma’s chili recipe? She always says it’s the best thing for cold rainy days and black moods.” He patted her hand.

She tried to smile, knowing her face was probably swollen and her nose red from crying. She accepted Granddad’s hug and waved at him as he went inside. When she returned to Beau’s place, he let her in and then said he had to go out for a while. She didn’t ask him for details.
Instead, she began making the chili her grandfather had suggested. To calm her own nerves, she started a muffin recipe, too.

When he returned from his errand, he kissed her before asking, “What’s that I smell? Makes me hungry trying to guess.”

“Granddad’s idea—my grandmamma’s chili recipe. She claimed it was good for all kinds of problems. And I made cornmeal muffins to go with it. Everything should be ready in a few minutes.”

“Great!” He pulled out a bottle of red wine and poured himself a glass, then offered it to her. “A sip, Olivia, just one sip.”

She sipped. “Um. Good. I think I’d like a small glass with dinner.”

He watched as she moved between the island and the other counter. “You look good in my kitchen.”

She grinned at him. Then, her eyes serious, she asked, “Are you getting a handle on everything that needs to get done for Paul?”

He lowered his gaze. “A little at a time. I called the colonel. He told me he’d let me know if it’s Paul’s body. We’re praying it isn’t.” He paused. “But if it is, I’ll fly to Dover to meet the plane. Katie and Ted will come as soon as everything else is arranged. It’s the least I can do.”

“Not the least. It’s the most loving gesture. Do you want me to come with you? I will if you think it would help.” She hadn’t thought to offer before, fearful he wanted this saddest of homecomings to include only immediate family.

“You’d do that?” he asked.