Remember (45 page)

“Someone took you away from me.” Helen sniffed twice and ran her fingers over Sue’s hair.

“No, Mama, I’m here. I’ll never leave you.”

Helen buried her head in her daughter’s shoulder. “I missed you, honey. I never stopped missing you.”

Ashley took a step back toward the hallway. It was a bridge. That was the benefit of allowing Alzheimer’s patients to live in their memories, in the past, where they were comfortable. Sometimes, during moments like this, the memories were strong enough to span the gap between yesterday and today. Strong enough, in this case, to allow a mother and daughter the chance to love the way they hadn’t in years.

Lu walked by and paused, glancing over Ashley’s shoulder. She leaned close and whispered, “What’s happening?”

Ashley wiped her tears and smiled, keeping her voice low enough that it didn’t interrupt the conversation between the two women. “Helen remembered her. It’s the first time in years.”

“That’s impossible.” Lu stared at the two women and then back at Ashley. “I think we’ll change your title from manager to miracle worker.”

Ashley grinned. “That’s not my title.” She pointed upward. “It’s his.” Lu wasn’t a Christian believer, but Ashley had a feeling she would be one day.

“Well.” Lu stared at Sue and Helen, and shook her head. “I’d say he’s doing a pretty good job.”

* * *

Bert’s son and his family arrived just after lunch.

This was the moment Ashley had been looking forward to since she gave Bert his saddle. The changes in Bert had been dramatic and ongoing. Ashley even planned to write about them in a paper and submit them to several of the groups she had found on Web sites. Her experience would be further proof that allowing Alzheimer’s patients their memories was a good thing.

Ashley met the man, his wife, and their two daughters at the door and welcomed them. When they were seated, Ashley smiled at them. “I’ll go get your father.”

Bert’s son exchanged an odd look with his wife, and Ashley knew what they were thinking. How would Ashley get Bert out of his room? The old man hated leaving the place and was always withdrawn and difficult when he was brought into the commons.

Ashley giggled to herself and hummed as she made her way to Bert’s room. He was polishing his saddle the same way he did every afternoon at this time.

“Hi, Bert.” She stopped in the doorway and grinned at him. “How are you?”

He turned and smiled at her. His movements were still slower than they might have been, but there was life in his eyes, and his voice was laced with awareness. “Got me a saddle.”

“I see that.” Ashley held out her hand. “Your son’s here to see you, Bert. I told him I’d get you.”

Bert’s hand stopped in midstroke. “My . . . my son?”

“Yes. It’s Family Day. Your son and his family are here.”

“David?”

Ashley wanted to shout out loud. Bert remembered!

The changes in Bert had happened quickly after he’d gotten the saddle. First he began making eye contact, and then he started talking. But he’d never showed any awareness that he even had a son—until now.

“Yes, David Riley. Your son.”

“Lives down the road . . . old dairy farm.”

“That’s right.” Smiling, Ashley reached her hand out a bit farther. “Come say hello to them.”

Bert’s eyebrows lowered, and he nodded his head slowly and seriously. “Believe I will.” He set the oilcloth carefully on top of the saddle and took small, hesitant steps in Ashley’s direction. When he was almost there, he took her hand and let her lead him from the room.

David stood when Ashley and Bert entered the room. There was silence for a moment, and then David took a step forward. “Hello, Dad. It’s me, David.” The man was a younger version of Bert—tall and proud, with muscled shoulders and calloused palms. He made his way across the room and held out his hand.

Ashley stepped back as Bert took his son’s fingers and held tightly to them. “Hi.”

Across the room, David’s wife let her lower jaw hang open, her eyes wide. Quietly she whispered, “How in the world . . . ?”

David cleared his throat. “Do you know who I am, Dad?”

Bert narrowed his eyes and grinned at David, their two hands still joined. “You’re my boy. Chip off the old block.”

David shot a look of shock and gratitude over his shoulder at Ashley. Then he pulled his father into an embrace and held him that way for a long time. “I’ve missed you, Dad. You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.” He pulled back and sniffed, clearly trying to control his emotion. “How . . . how are you?”

Bert stood there a bit awkwardly and patted David on the back. “Got me a saddle.”

Ashley covered her mouth with the back of her hand, not wanting her own feelings to interrupt the moment.
God, you are so good! Thank you for this.
She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “Your dad’s been talking a lot these past weeks, haven’t you, Bert?”

He looked at her, and a childlike smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Got me a saddle.”

Ashley directed the two men to sit on the sofa while Lu went through the house and summoned the others—Irvel with both her grandson and her niece; Edith and two granddaughters; Helen, clutching tightly to her daughter, Sue; and Laura Jo’s son, who had flown in from California for the first time in more than a year. When they were all gathered, Lu explained that the philosophy at Sunset Hills had changed quite a bit over the past six months. “We invited you here today because our new manager has found research that proves how crucial it is for Alzheimer’s patients to be allowed to live in their memories. If the time they remember best is ten years ago or twenty, then we allow them the luxury of living there. Ashley Baxter, our manager, will tell you more.”

Ashley had no intention of going into great detail about Alzheimer’s research with the residents seated around the room, but she felt there was no harm talking in general terms. Ashley explained the differing schools of thought when it came to Alzheimer’s patients. “Let’s say you spend your life as a beauty queen. Once Alzheimer’s strikes, you might believe you’re still thirty-five and stunningly beautiful.”

Ashley smiled in Edith’s direction. The woman was staring at her hands, snuggled between her granddaughters. The conversation did not mean a thing to her. Although she had been more at peace since she’d stopped seeing her own reflection, she was as lost as ever—maybe even worse than before.

Ashley continued. “And let’s say every time you walk into a bathroom, you scream because you think a witch is after you.”

Ashley paused and looked around the room. “The old school of thought teaches caregivers to force an Alzheimer’s patient to recognize current reality or be sedated. So the care worker would insist that there is no witch, that you are simply looking in a mirror. And if you kept screaming, the worker would simply give you enough drugs to knock you out.”

She looked back at Edith. “In this house we’ve decided to try a different approach. Instead of forcing our residents to acknowledge current reality, we’ve decided to let them live in whatever era of their memory makes them happiest.

“In the case of our screaming resident, for instance—and yes, this is a real example—we simply covered the bathroom mirror, and the screaming stopped. The reason? Our patient hadn’t been seeing a witch. She’d been seeing her own reflection.” Ashley could hear the compassion in her voice. “A reflection she no longer recognized because she was living decades in the past. Back when she didn’t look the way she does now.” Ashley smiled at Edith’s granddaughters. “Ultimately, our patient is calmer and happier.”

Ashley continued, sharing examples without alerting the residents that they were being talked about. Afterward she fielded questions from several of the family members but heard none of the negative responses Belinda had warned her about. The improvements in the residents were too convincing. Now the family members wanted only to know how they could cooperate with what was obviously already working.

Ashley encouraged the family members to stay for the turkey buffet later that afternoon and to visit as long as they were able. Then she made the rounds, spending time with each of the residents and their various relatives.

Irvel had recovered fully from her encounter with Belinda. Her bruises had faded and she was her amicable, social self. She still received weekly visits from her niece, and together they still recited the Twenty-third Psalm and finished their visit singing “Great Is Thy Faithfulness.”

The fact that Irvel’s grandson had come today was especially wonderful. Irvel didn’t recognize him exactly, but she enjoyed his company and was in fine form with all the visitors that filled the house.

“It’s a perfect day for a party,” Irvel was saying as Ashley entered her room.

Her grandson smiled. “Perfect.” He was a young musician who lived two hours away. He didn’t visit often, but when he did, Ashley had the sense that he cared deeply for his grandmother.

Irvel spotted Ashley, and her eyes lit up. “Hello, dear. I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Irvel.”

“Hi, Irvel.” Ashley patted the woman’s hand. “I see you have your grandson here.”

“My grandson?” Irvel looked startled for a moment. Then her eyes found her grandson’s, and she grinned. “Oh, him. He’s a handsome one, isn’t he? Not like my Hank, but handsome all the same.” She glanced at Ashley again. “Hank’s here, isn’t he?”

Hank’s image smiled at Ashley from the painting she’d hung above Irvel’s bed. “I believe he is.”

Irvel settled deeper into her chair. “Isn’t that wonderful? Such a good man.”

“Yes, he is.” Ashley took a step back. “I’ll be out with the others if either of you needs anything.”

Irvel smiled at her and then tapped her grandson’s knee. She looked at him, her face knotted curiously. “Excuse me, what did you say your name was? Grant something?”

“Grandson.” The young man gave Irvel’s hand a tender pat. “I’m your grandson.”

“That’s right, Grant’s son. I keep forgetting.” Irvel nodded for a moment. Then she turned and pointed at Ashley. “Doesn’t she have the most beautiful hair?”

Irvel’s grandson blushed a bit. He was a shy type, probably not used to being put on the spot. “Yes, Grandma. She’s very pretty.”

* * *

The afternoon wore on, and Ashley made her way to Laura Jo’s room. The scene there was more somber than in the other rooms, and Ashley’s heart hurt for the aging man sitting at his mother’s  side.

He was a business executive with numerous responsibilities on the West Coast, yet he’d chosen this time to respond to Ashley’s invitation and come see his mother. He gave Ashley a weak smile when she entered the room. “It won’t be long.”

Ashley nodded. The man was right. They’d been expecting Laura Jo to die for weeks now, but she was holding on. Maybe for this—the chance to be with her son one last time. Ashley thought it was possible. No matter that Laura Jo hadn’t been out of bed in years. She still responded—faintly—when Ashley prayed with her, and now, with her son at her side, she seemed more peaceful than ever.

Ashley patted the man’s shoulder. “It was good of you to come.”

He stared at his mother and smoothed his hand across her brow. “I love her. She was a wonderful woman all my life. Strong, driven, determined to raise us right.” He cast Ashley a backward glance. “She loved God very much.”

“She still does.” Ashley felt her heart constrict as she looked at Laura Jo, withered and shrunken, struggling for every breath.

The man looked at his watch. “I have a plane to catch late this evening in Indianapolis. I should probably get going.”

Ashley nodded. “I’ll leave the two of you alone so you can say good-bye.”

The unspoken message was clear. This wasn’t any old good-bye. It was probably the last time this man would see his mother alive. Ashley blinked back tears as she made her way into the kitchen. Ten minutes later the man found her, his eyes red and swollen. He handed Ashley a business card with several phone numbers. “Call me, will you? When it’s time. I know you have most of this in your files, but you might not have my cell number. I want to make sure . . .”

Ashley promised and thanked the man again.

He met her eyes and held them. “Thank you, Ms. Baxter. I wouldn’t have come if you hadn’t called. Being here with her was a very great gift.”

* * *

The day finally wound to an end. One by one the visitors left. The night care worker arrived, and Ashley drove to pick up Cole at her parents’ house.

“How ’bout a dinner date with Mom?” She gave him a playful poke in the ribs.

“Really?” Cole hooted. “You mean like a Happy Meal?”

“Of course!”

They drove to their favorite restaurant, and after they sat down with their food, Ashley listened as he shared a dozen stories from his day.

The whole while she couldn’t help but remember Laura Jo and her son. Would there come a time when she might look into Cole’s eyes and not know him? a time when she would be dying and Cole would leave his busy life to come to her side? Ashley couldn’t imagine either scenario; yet working at Sunset Hills had taught her it could easily happen one day.

The phone call came long after she’d gotten home and put Cole to bed. It was Lu, and Ashley knew something was wrong the moment she heard her voice.

“What happened?” Ashley leaned against her kitchen counter and waited.

“It’s Laura Jo. She passed away an hour ago.”

For an instant there was a sinking feeling, as though the wind had been knocked from her. Then just as quickly Ashley felt a surge of joy. “She’ll never be confined to a bed again.”

“No. She’s free.”

Ashley told Lu where to find the card with the cell-phone number for Laura Jo’s son. “He’s probably halfway to L.A. by now, but he’s expecting this. I’m sure he’ll come back to help with the details.”

When they hung up, Ashley made her way across the dining room and stared at her painting of Cole on the swing. Life was so short, so transient. Here today, making memories and keeping schedules . . . and then tomorrow, making plans for a funeral service.