Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 87179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
“You think Mr. M might want to look through some of these?” she asked.
“That might be a nice exercise to spark his memory. Yeah. I’ll take them.”
Mr. M was sitting up in bed watching CNN when I walked in. I lowered the volume.
“Genevieve found some old photos. Would you like to look through them?”
He nodded.
I sat on the edge of the bed and placed one of the albums in his lap.
He began to flip through the pages. He stopped at a photo of Ruth standing in the garden. It had been taken probably twenty years ago. There was that diamond necklace she always wore, wrapped around her neck.
“My beautiful wife.”
I gritted my teeth. “Yes, she was, wasn’t she?”
He resumed turning the pages. There were lots of snapshots of the boys when they were about six and ten years old.
In one of the photos, my mother was standing to the right of Gavin, helping him cut a piece of his birthday cake. It took everything in me to keep from crying because it was an image I’d never seen before. Every memory of her was so precious now.
He pointed to her face. “Who’s that?”
My heart sped up a little. “That’s...me.”
“I thought so.” He kept looking back and forth between the photo and me. It made me nervous that maybe he’d figured out the difference, but then he just turned the page.
He stopped at a photo of Gavin and Weldon fishing.
“Look at them. Such good boys.”
“They are, Mr. M. You’re very lucky. You have two wonderful sons who love you very much.”
He turned to me. “I’m lucky to have you, too.”
I wrapped my arm around him. “The luck is all mine.”
After we finished that album, we opened a second one. This album featured photos from when the boys were in high school.
In one of them, Gavin was dressed in a tux, standing next to a blond girl in a long, red dress. Her hair was up with loose tendrils framing her face. It was from a dance, taken probably five years or so before I’d met him.
“Who is that?” he asked.
“That’s Gavin.”
He seemed confused. “How old is Gavin now?”
“He’s thirty-one.”
“Where is he?”
“London. But he was just here, remember?”
“Oh, yes. This morning.”
“No. That was Weldon. He went back to California today. Gavin was here for a month up until a couple of weeks ago. He spent a lot of time with you.”
After a long moment of silence, he said, “Oh, yeah. That’s right.”
Sadness washed over me as it did whenever he lost track of things. Sometimes it was only fleeting, but other times it wasn’t. It was hard to tell when he truly remembered something and when he was pretending. I wondered how much worse things might be the next time Gavin came home.
I had to say, though, some days I wished I could take some of Mr. M’s forgetfulness off his shoulders. There were plenty of things I wished I didn’t have to remember.
***
The days wore on, and still no word from Gavin. It had been almost a month since he left.
I’d almost given up hope of hearing from him—until my cell phone rang one Wednesday afternoon. When I saw his name on the screen, I had to pause before answering. It was ironic, because the day he came back had also been a random Wednesday.
A rush of adrenaline swept through me. I felt like my life was on the line.
I cleared my throat. “Hello?”
“Hey.” His deep voice shook me, making my pulse react.
“Hi.”
“How are things over there?” he asked. “I’ve been checking in with Genevieve, but I haven’t spoken to you in some time.”
“Everything is good. Stable. Your dad is good.”
He paused. “How are you?”
“I’m...hanging in there.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.”
With each second that passed, more dread filled me.
“That’s okay. I mean, I wasn’t necessarily expecting to hear from you.”
“I needed some time to clear my head after Florida.”
I swallowed. “Right…”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah…”
“Do you trust me?”
What does that mean? “I do.”
“We need to talk...in person. I don’t want to do this over the phone. But I can’t leave England again right now. I was wondering if you could get on a plane and come here.”
I felt my eyes widen. “To London. You want me to come to London?”
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Do you have a passport?”
It took me a few seconds to process his question. “Believe it or not, even though I don’t go anywhere, I do have one, and I keep it up to date.”
“Would you be okay with getting on a plane tonight?”
My heart raced. I wanted to scream Yes! But I had so many questions. “How would that even be possible? I’d have to talk to work.”
“I’ll call the agency, make arrangements for Dad. And of course, I’ll book your flight. If I can handle that, will you come?”