Love Mercy (43 page)

They were all going to the Johnsons’ ranch for Christmas Eve dinner, so Clint, Rocky and Magnolia could join them and not miss Christmas with their own families. No one actually said out loud this might be August and Polly’s last Christmas living at the ranch, but the thought hung over everyone like a swollen rain cloud.

August was back home now with absolutely no memory of what happened at Big Barn. Love said he was on some kind of new drug for people in early dementia. The doctor said it could possibly help keep him steady, though he had no idea for how long. That night he was in the hospital, Mel, Magnolia, Rocky and Zane searched every corner of the ranch house. Besides the .22 rifle he’d had at the barn, they’d found two shotguns, a .22 hand pistol and an old beat-up .45 revolver. All the guns were in a closet at Mel’s house. So far, August hadn’t even noticed they were gone.

Mel, Love and Rett set up a schedule of going out to the ranch every day to help Polly and check on things. Since Love and Rett would be leaving for Knoxville the day after Christmas, Magnolia and Rocky’s daughters, Jade and Cheyenne, would fill in until they returned. With Zane living there, and Magnolia and Rocky checking in regularly, August and Polly would be able to stay at the ranch a while longer.

“We have no idea how long this can work,” Love had said to Mel Friday night at the Happy Shrimp. Rett skipped this week because she said she was still working on a Christmas present for Love. “But, if there needs to be changes, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Christine Nybak at the Alzheimer’s Association has been a huge help. There are some options; we just have to figure out what’s best for August and Polly. Rett and I will get back as soon as we can, but we have no idea how long we might be. Hopefully, not more than a few weeks.”

“How are things back there?” Mel asked.

“Complicated,” Love said. “But that’s how family is.” She smiled at Mel. “I’m thankful we have family here to hold down the fort while we’re gone.” She reached over and patted Mel’s hand.

Mel felt her chest warm with emotion. Never, in a million years, could she express to Love how much she appreciated being included as family.

So, in a way, buying something for Rett was kind of like buying for the little sister she’d never had. Except Mel was a dismal failure at shopping, for herself or anyone else. She never really paid that much attention to what other people wanted or liked. She’d definitely have to work on that. But, in the meantime, there remained the problem of a Christmas gift for Rett. She left the clothing section and went over to peruse the silver Western-style jewelry. Horseshoe earrings? Did Rett have pierced ears? Mel couldn’t remember, so she nixed that idea. All she really knew about Rett was she played banjo and liked the Nashville Sounds baseball team. Wasn’t there a new music store downtown? What did you get someone who played the banjo?

She turned to walk toward the exit when she saw Hud come from the back of the building. He carried a jacket-sized box wrapped with red paper decorated with black and green horseshoes.

“Hey, Mel!” he called, seeing her seconds after she spotted him. There was no way she could pretend she hadn’t seen him.

She stopped, held up a hand and politely waited for him to walk to her. Why couldn’t she have left just one minute earlier? Though she was grateful for his help in resolving things with Patrick and for his call later that night to make sure she was okay, they hadn’t talked since. She’d taken to heart his last comment to her on the phone.

“I’m not going to bug you, Melina Jane,” he’d said. “I’d like to see you again, but I also know that this is a tough time for you. So I’m lobbing the ball into your court and will just wait to see if it comes flying back.”

“Thank you,” she’d replied and never called him back. She wasn’t ready to deal with even the most basic relationship with a man. Right now, with all that was happening with August, Polly and Love . . . well, her time was pretty much spoken for.

Now here he was walking toward her looking pretty darn attractive in his crisp blue dress shirt, tweed Western-cut jacket, perfectly pressed Wranglers and shiny black boots. He was obviously dressed for some Christmas Eve shindig.

“Hi,” she said, when he reached her.“How are you?”Wow, she thought, that’s original. Then she chided herself. What did she care about what he thought about her? He’d already seen her at pretty much her worst.

“I’m doing good,” he said, touching the rim of his pearl gray Stetson. “Picking up a jacket I ordered for Maisie for Christmas. You doin’ some last-minute shopping?”

She nodded, hitching her leather purse over her shoulder. “I’m trying to buy a present for Rett. But, to be honest, I’m at a loss. We’re having dinner and exchanging presents at August and Polly’s tonight.”

Hud cocked his head. “How’s he doing?”

“How’d you know about August?”

“Benni told me.”

“He’s doing okay. Doesn’t even remember . . .” She paused, not certain how much Benni had told him.

Hud’s dark brown eyes studied her face. “How’s Love’s shoulder?”

“Fine,” she said. Benni obviously told him everything. “I have all August’s guns at my place.”

“I’m sorry y’all are having to go through this. My gramma Hudson had Alzheimer’s. It’s a long, hard road . . . for everyone involved.”

She nodded, looking down at the floor. Over the store’s sound system, Willie Nelson sang “Oh, Come All Ye Faithful.” “We’re kind of figuring things out as we go along.”

“All anyone can do.”

She looked up, glanced over his shoulder at the exit. “Well, I didn’t find anything here, so . . .”

He glanced at his watch. “Want to have some lunch?”

She looked into his face, trying to decide if she wanted to even start this. There were so many reasons not to: he was too confident, he was fifteen years older than her, he knew too much about her, he was a cop.

“A sandwich, Melina Jane LeBlanc,” he said, smiling that cocky smile that both annoyed and intrigued her. “It’s just a sandwich. And maybe some soup. A cup of coffee. A pastry if you’re feeling particularly adventuresome.”

“You are so full of crap.”

“Been accused of that a few times. Did you know that there’s a procedure called a toe tuck? It’s to slim down a person’s pinkie toe. They actually remove fat deposits on the tips of the toes. They say it’s to fight toe-besity.” He shifted the Christmas box from one arm to the other. “I dearly love trivia.”

She stared at him, then, unable to help herself, started laughing. “I don’t have time for lunch.” What she was thinking was, I don’t have time for
you.
“I have to buy Rett a Christmas present. I want it to be . . . nice. Or rather, right.”

He slipped his arm around her shoulders and started walking out the Farm Supply’s wide front door. She had no choice but to go with him. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“Gift certificate, my little Cajun cutie. When they are that age and they haven’t handed you a detailed list, that’s the only gift that is truly appreciated. We can go by the Chamber of Commerce, and you can buy one good for any of the downtown merchants. That way she can get what she wants—clothes, music, food, banjo strings, toothpaste—trust me, she’ll adore you for it.”

“Well . . .”

“Have I ever led you wrong?” He walked her out to her truck.

“You’ve never led me anywhere . . .”

“Not yet. But there’s always next year.”

She shrugged away from his arm and unlocked her truck’s door. “I don’t like being pushed, Hud. You said you’d give me space.”

He stepped back one foot and held out one arm, palm up. “Voilà,” he said. “Magic.”

A jolt ran through her. Did he know her father was a magician? Was he making fun of her? She studied his face, relaxed and smiling. She felt her spine loosen. He was just kidding around. Maybe she needed to quit being so uptight. Though she had no desire to even think about another romantic relationship, lunch was doable. Maybe it would be good for her. He was easy to talk to, a great . . . what was it called . . . transition person? Transition to what? Who knew, but like with what had happened with Love and Rett and August and Polly, Mel had now realized that there was no peering into the future, no guarantees. Sometimes, like Cy said to her once, you just have to run in the ocean, catch a wave, see where on the shore you end up.

Here, she thought. I ended up here. Here in this funny little county in California with a bunch of people who are almost family. She had to admit, whoever was in control of her particular wave had done right by her this time. She was here. She was alive, and she was
here.
And here felt good.

“Okay,” she said to Hud. “I’ll meet you at Liddie’s Café in an hour. The gift certificate is a great idea. I’ll run by the Chamber and buy one.”

“You won’t be sorry.” His smile was nice this time. Not cocky, just nice.

“Well, I guess we’ll see,” she said and smiled back.

THIRTY-FOUR

I
t was four p.m., and the only person who hadn’t arrived at August and Polly’s house was Clint. Love stood at the sink in Polly’s kitchen washing her gold-rimmed Christmas holly glasses. The large window looked out over the front yard and long driveway. This view was one of the things she loved the most about Polly’s kitchen. A person could see everything that was going on as they were doing the dishes or peeling potatoes. Polly had always teased August, saying she married him partially because she loved this kitchen and its view.

“I like seeing right away who’s here to visit,” she’d told him. “I don’t like to be kept in the dark about what’s coming.”

How ironic those words seemed now. There was not any way she’d be able to see what was coming as things started to darken for August. The medical workup couldn’t conclusively tell them if it was Alzheimer’s, but he definitely was experiencing some sort of dementia. Nothing would be predictable; that was the only certainty.

Love had found someone to stay with Polly and August every minute. It was working, for now. Once Love and Rett returned from Tennessee, they’d have a family meeting and discuss the future. They’d figure something out. Every day they made it through without incident was just another slice of God’s good grace. How well Love knew that.

Love dried the holly-printed glass, set it on a tray with the others and looked back out the window. Clint was pulling up in his little green Subaru Forester. They’d have dinner, then open presents right away so that Clint could get on the road before too late. He was driving to San Francisco to spend Christmas with Garth and his family.

“But you probably won’t reach Garth’s house until midnight,” she had said yesterday when he told her his plan to come to the Johnsons’ for Christmas Eve dinner. “You’ll be exhausted on Christmas Day.” They’d met for lunch so they could discuss the best legal strategy for Polly and August. He’d recommended a lawyer he knew in San Celina who specialized in elder law.

“Polly specifically asked me to come,” Clint said. “She said it might be their last Christmas at the ranch, and she wanted me there. How could I refuse?”

Love had been surprised that Polly was so open with him. He was an acquaintance, but not family or a longtime friend. She’d not spoken to Love, Magnolia, Rocky or anyone else she’d known for years about her and August possibly moving from the ranch. The worry in Polly’s eyes after hearing what the doctor said was obvious, but it was typical of her not to want to burden anyone with her troubles.

Love stared down at her half-eaten Caesar salad. “I wish she’d talked to me about it.”

He opened his tri-tip beef sandwich and spooned salsa on the steak. “It’s common for parents to want to spare their children the hard details. She trusts me but doesn’t have to worry about my emotional state. And she knows that whatever she tells me will eventually get back to you, so it’s her way of communicating with you without all the fuss.” He gave Love a lopsided smile; his silver-streaked hair fell across his forehead like a teenage boy’s. “I think therapists call it
triangulation
. Sounds deadly, doesn’t it?”

She looked up into his kind gray eyes. “You’re not breaking any legal rules by telling me what she said, are you?”

He shook his head. “No, because I’m technically not her lawyer, just an interested friend. Also because she mentioned that if I felt so inclined, I could talk to you about any of this.”

Love had smiled, relieved. “That sounds like Polly.” She pushed at the salad with her fork, her appetite diminished. The thought of this being August and Polly’s last Christmas at the ranch felt like a knot in her heart. “Well, I’m glad you’re coming to Christmas Eve dinner, Judge.” She’d bought him a huge handmade coffee mug that read on the side, Trail Boss. He’d get a kick out of it.

She carried the tray of clean glasses into the dining room where Polly was fussing with the red and green plaid napkins.

“Clint’s here,” Love said, placing a Christmas glass next to each plate.

“Hope everyone’s hungry,” Polly said, wiping her hands on her crocheted Christmas apron. “We’ve got enough food for three armies.”

“Good,” Love said. “You won’t have to cook for August and Zane for a week. Maybe you can get some quilting done.”

She looked up at her daughter-in-law, her toffee eyes serious. “You and Clint talk lately?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Love said. “He says that John Goldstein is the lawyer you need to see to sort things out with the ranch and such. Are you okay with that?”

She held Love’s gaze. “Do you think you might have time to come along? I’d sure like to have some company.”

“Of course, Mom. You know I’ll do whatever I can to make things easier for you and August. Rett and I leave for Knoxville day after tomorrow and will, hopefully, be back in a couple of weeks.”

She gave a sharp nod. “Set it up for when you get back.”