Vow to Cherish Page 14

  Could he bring Ellen to this place and walk away? Could he live with himself if he abandoned her here? Oh, of course, he would visit her every day. He would continue to care for her in every way he could, but would she see it as abandonment? Would she sink further into dementia in a place like this? Or was there help for her here? These questions clanged noisily in John’s head, and he left the place deeply troubled.

  The sound of breaking glass shattered the 2:00 a.m. silence. John sat upright and saw immediately that Ellen was not in her bed beside his. The door that he was careful to close tightly each night was ajar, and he heard Ellen’s low moans coming from the kitchen. He stumbled through the dimly lit hallway and into the kitchen.

  Ellen sat on the floor, blood from an ugly gash on the palm of her hand staining her nightgown. The jagged shards of a broken juice glass surrounded her, and she held her hand gingerly while she rocked back and forth, wailing like a frightened child.

  John grabbed the broom and quickly swept a path for his own bare feet. Then he picked Ellen up and carried her to the safety of the living room. The wound in her hand was fairly deep and would need stitches. He wrapped a clean dishcloth around it to stanch the flow of blood and dressed her for the trip to the emergency room—her second one in just over a week.

  In the waiting room, Ellen fell asleep on John’s shoulder. There had been a car accident and the emergency room was full. They waited for nearly an hour before Ellen was ushered, groggy and confused, into a treatment room. John sat beside her and held her other hand while the doctor put eight stitches in the wound. The doctor gave her a sedative, and Ellen slept through most of the ordeal.

  When they returned home, she was wide-awake and paced the hallway outside their bedroom, picking at her bandage and examining her hand as though it were a foreign object. John tried several times to get her to lie down, but each time she threw the covers off, climbed out of bed and began pacing again. Finally John gave up trying to get any sleep himself. The sun would be up in an hour anyway.

  He took Ellen’s hand and led her into the kitchen. He took a seat across the table from her, and there, as gently as though she could understand every word, he told her what he had decided to do.

  “Ellen, I want to tell you something, honey.” He hadn’t used the endearment for so long that it sounded alien to him. “In just a few days we’re going to take you to a beautiful place called Parkside Manor. They’ll take good care of you there, Ellen.”

  A sob rose in his throat as the reality of his decision sank in. Ellen reached across the table and, with a detached expression, looked at John.

  He stroked her cheek and she leaned into his hand, her cheek warm against his palm.

  “I can’t do it anymore, El. I’m sorry…I can’t take care of you as you deserve to be cared for. But they have nurses and doctors there who can help you. They won’t ever let you get lost or get hurt like you do here.”

  He wept openly now. “I’ll come and visit you every day, El. And we can still go for our walks in the evening. But you can’t stay here anymore…. You just can’t.”

  She stared at him, looking straight into his eyes—a rare thing. Then she reached up and, with her bandaged hand, gently wiped a tear from his cheek.

  “Hurts…oh…oh…oh…hurts. Hurts! Away…away…away. Go away. No…no…no…Away…away…away…away…away….” Ellen’s words were spoken in the lifeless, singsong voice that Alzheimer’s had given her, but the words themselves were poignant.

  Deep inside a tender place that had never been touched, John ached as he recognized the source of Ellen’s words.

  They came from her heart.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  With a heavy heart, John made the arrangements with Parkside and set the date for Ellen to move in. He called each of the kids and told them what he had decided to do. Brant and Kyle were upset. They hadn’t realized John was considering such a drastic solution, but they seemed to understand their father’s decision, and each in his own way gave John his approval.

  Jana was silent when John told her. He tried to elicit a response from her, but she gave him a frosty “thank you for calling,” and hung up on him. John heard the tears in her voice and knew it was more anguish than anger. He decided to give the news time to soak in before he tried to make peace with her and convince her that he was doing the right thing.

  But he was upset to have Jana angry with him, and it ate at him all day. Making this decision was hard enough without having his children turn against him. Couldn’t they understand that he was already eaten up with guilt?

  He came home from work two days later and found a letter in the mail from Jana. He unfolded the letter and read the words written in Jana’s precise, rounded scroll.

  Dear Dad,

  This is the most difficult letter I have ever written. You are my dad and I love and respect you. I want you to know that comes above everything else I am about to say, but my heart is broken by what you have decided to do. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand how you can put my mother in a nursing home. I know, Dad, that these last few years have been very hard on you, and I know Mom has been getting worse and worse, but still, there has to be another solution. Honest, Dad, if she were seventy or eighty years old I could understand it, but she’s only just fifty! I feel like it will literally kill her to be thrown in there with all those old people.

  No—I feel like Mom has already died. How will our family ever be the same without Mom at the house? I know you say we will bring her home for holidays and for visits, but it won’t be the same. Do you just throw away someone you love because it gets a little inconvenient?

  Dad, you know I’ve offered to quit my job and come and help with Mom. I can’t understand why you won’t accept my help. Mark promised he would support me if that is what I decide to do. Will you please reconsider? Dad, I’ve never begged for anything in my life, but I am begging you to change your mind. I don’t know what else I can say.

  I will love you no matter what you decide, but I’m not sure I can ever forgive you for this. I’m just being honest.

  Love,

  Jana

  P.S. I do love you, Dad. Please know that!

  He put an elbow on the table and rested his forehead heavily on the palm of his hand. Jana’s words stung. Her postscript did little to soften the blows she had dealt with her harsh words. Yet John knew in his heart the decision he’d made was the right one, and best for everyone. No, it wasn’t ideal, but there was no other solution. Ellen would never have wanted Jana to leave her husband to care for her mother. And Jana didn’t have a true picture of how bad things had become with Ellen.

  He’d tried to be honest with the kids. Since the Thanksgiving when Kyle and Brant had been so upset about Ellen’s deterioration, he’d been more careful to warn them of any new developments in her health. But unless one lived with Alzheimer’s day in and day out, there was no way to really understand the horror of it. And the father in John wanted to spare his children the uglier details of their mother’s decline. He couldn’t bring himself to tell them that Ellen had occasionally begun to be incontinent; or that she practically had to be spoon-fed now. He felt bound to preserve some of Ellen’s dignity before her children.

  He rose and plodded into the den. Taking pen and paper, he started a reply to Jana’s letter. He tore up his first effort and started again on a new sheet, but the words he could think to write seemed sterile and uncaring on paper. Finally he picked up the phone and called her.

  “Jana, it’s Dad.”

  “Dad, I—”

  “Please, Jana…Let me finish what I have to tell you, then we’ll talk.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Was that contrition in her voice?

  “Honey, I really do understand how upset you are. And I don’t blame you. But you need to know my side of the story.”

  He heard her release a slow breath. “Okay.”

  “I have looked at all the alternatives. I spent an entire w
eek trying to find a way to keep Mom at home. There just isn’t any way to make it work, honey. I can’t keep my job and take care of Mom, too, and if I lose my job, I can’t afford any kind of help for Mom. As it is, I’ve already taken a deep bite out of our savings.”

  A long pause. “I…I didn’t know.”

  “I know you didn’t, honey. Listen, I appreciate your offer and Mom would have, too—I know you made it out of love. But I also know that she would never have allowed it. You belong with Mark. Mom would have absolutely hated the thought of her sickness causing you two to separate. Or even if she knew it had put any kind of strain on your marriage.”

  “It’s not, Dad. Mark understands. He’ll be okay with it.”

  “Well, he’s been great, and I appreciate all he’s done. Both of you.” He hesitated, not sure how to persuade her. He was pretty certain his daughter was in denial. Mark had been a prince, but anyone with eyes could see the strain this had put on the young marriage.

  “I don’t want to sound cruel, Jana, but Mom has reached the point where I don’t think it’s going to make much difference where she lives. As long as we go see her, and as long as she is being taken care of, I think she’s as happy as she’ll ever be. And it’ll be a lot easier once she gets a private room. Then we can go sit with her and visit as long as we want.”

  He paused, waiting for her response, but she was silent on her end. “I’m glad you let me know how you’re feeling…I really am…but I want you to understand that I haven’t made this decision selfishly. I’ve thought and prayed about this long and hard, and I truly feel this is the best thing we can do for Mom right now. I just don’t know any other way, honey.”

  For a long time Jana didn’t say anything. John didn’t try to fill the void with further reasoning. What more was there to say? Finally, he said simply, “Jana, I’m asking you to trust me, and if you still think I’m wrong, to forgive me. Do you think you can do that?”

  A shuddering sigh came over the line, and she began to cry. “Oh, of course I forgive you, Dad. And I do trust you. I’m not sure I understand all your reasons, but I trust you. I do. I know you only want what’s best for Mom, too.” She paused, then her voice broke. “I’m sorry about the letter. I wish I could take it back. Can you…can you forgive me?”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, honey. You were just being honest. It’s okay.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, honey. We’ll see you next week, okay?”

  Her sobs started anew, but through her tears she managed to tell him goodbye.

  He hung up the phone, too weary to feel anything but gratitude for a quick reconciliation. It would take time for Jana to work through her resentments, but he needed everyone behind him to go through with this.

  Too soon the day arrived to take Ellen to Parkside. The kids wanted to be there. None of them were happy about John’s decision, but they were supporting him, and they wanted to help.

  Until Ellen got a private room, there wasn’t much to take except her clothing and a few personal items. John really didn’t need the help, but he let his children come anyway, and he was grateful for their company.

  They gathered at the house early on a Monday morning. John had already packed the clothes and toiletries Ellen would need. Jana went through the motions of looking through her mother’s closets and drawers, but the only thing she added to the items John had already packed was a little porcelain bluebird she had given her mother for Christmas one year.

  When Jana was small, Ellen had given her the coveted privilege of helping dust the collection of fragile little birds. John thought to offer the collection to Jana, but it seemed too morbid for a day already fraught with finality.

  The boys put the two small bags in the trunk of John’s car, and Jana helped Ellen into the passenger seat beside John. Then, with the three kids in the backseat, they began the short drive to Parkside.

  As John backed out of the driveway, he glanced in the rearview mirror. Reflected there, like ghosts from the past, were his three children—Jana, with a brother on each side—just the way it had been for so many years. His family, all piled in the car together, appeared to be off for a day of adventure. Who would have thought it would end like this?

  He swallowed the lump that lodged in his throat and tried to concentrate on the road in front of him.

  While the nurses helped them put Ellen’s things away, she sat in the chair by her window and stared outside. A curtain divided the two halves of the room, and the beds were bulky and institutional. The room was large and brightly lit, but it still had the feel of a hospital room. There were only two other pieces of furniture in her area: a small bedside table and a chair upholstered in leatherlike vinyl.

  John spread a favorite afghan of Ellen’s—one MaryEllen had crocheted—across the foot of her bed and hung her bathrobe on a hook near the closet. Jana put the little bird on the windowsill in front of Ellen. Unfortunately, these additions did little to make the room seem like home.

  Ellen’s window looked onto the crowded parking lot, but she didn’t seem to mind the view, and John was grateful that at least she had something to look at besides the stark interior of her room.

  They had her settled in less than twenty minutes, and then John and the kids stood awkwardly around her chair. John watched her face. Did she understand what was happening? He would have given anything to know her thoughts, just for that moment. But her eyes gave nothing away, and her voice had long been silenced of any language that John could comprehend.

  Ellen’s roommate was a sweet woman in her eighties. Like the other residents on this wing, she had Alzheimer’s. Ellen was assigned the bed by the far wall, so they had to walk through Stella’s half of the room to get to Ellen’s side. Stella had a friendly smile for them each time they walked through, but she also had something to say to each one, and none of them could make sense of her disjointed comments. It was awkward and embarrassing.

  When they had stayed for an uncomfortable half hour, John kissed Ellen goodbye and casually told her that he would see her tomorrow. The kids followed his lead and gave her farewell hugs. Ellen seemed oblivious to her new surroundings, and she made no reply to their goodbyes.

  Brant and Kyle had to get back to Urbana early in the evening, but John took Jana out for pizza before she headed for Chicago. They talked about Jana’s job and about the weather, carefully avoiding the one thing that was foremost in both their minds. It was an uneasy, painful time, and John was relieved when the waiter brought the check.

  John invited Jana to the house, but she made excuses and started back to the city, saying her goodbyes in the driveway. Though Jana was making an effort to be supportive of John’s decision, he sensed her lingering resentment toward him. And he understood that it was simply too difficult for her to go back into the empty house now.

  He expected it to be hard for him, too. He parked the car in the garage and went in through the kitchen. The house looked the same. He walked down the hallway to their bedroom, testing his emotions. Ellen’s bedside table was empty except for the alarm clock that he had decided she wouldn’t need. Other than that, nothing was different in here either. Since that cold night when he had moved their bedroom down from the attic, he had felt like a stranger in his own home.

  John waited all evening for the impact to hit him. For the guilt to overwhelm him. For the sadness to creep in. But all he felt was relief.

  Ellen was safe. He could sleep in peace tonight for the first time in many months, knowing that she was being well cared for. He’d made the most difficult decision of his life and he was convinced he’d done what was best for everyone.

  Tomorrow evening he would take flowers to his wife, and together they would walk a new path.

  Julia

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Julia Sinclair stood at the kitchen counter up to her elbows in the sticky bread dough she was kneading. Little clouds of flour puffed out with each turn of the lum
p, dusting Julia’s navy sweatshirt with a fine white powder.

  The phone rang from the den. With a groan she raced to beat the answering machine, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she ran.

  “Hello. Sinclair residence.”

  “Yes, Julia Sinclair, please.”

  “This is Julia,” she said cautiously. So help me, if this is another sales call, I’ll scream. She had been interrupted twice in the space of an hour, and her patience was beyond thin.

  “Yes, Ms. Sinclair. This is Paul Cravens at Parkside Manor. You submitted an application a few weeks ago…?” His voice trailed off in a question. “I apologize that it’s taken so long to get back to you. I guess I should ask you first of all if you’re still interested in the job?”

  Julia had mailed the application almost two months ago and had given up on getting even a negative response. But, yes. Yes, she was very interested. She told him so.

  “Good, good. Well, I must say we were very impressed with your résumé. We’d like to set up an appointment for an interview. Now we do have a couple other people we are considering for the job, but those interviews haven’t been scheduled yet, so the calendar is pretty wide open.”

  They agreed on the following Monday morning, and Julia quickly arranged to get the morning off work. She’d been up front with her boss about this job search. She liked her accounting job at the small medical clinic, but she became more determined each day to get the boys out of the city.