“Well. Hello,” she said.

“Oh, shit,” he said. “Look, it gets a little tense sometimes, okay? I’m perfectly good. I’m a hundred percent. Seriously.”

“Pack it up, junior. You’re unemployed. I’m calling your boss.”

“I’ll deny it.”

“Right. Go for it. Deny away. Oh, by the way, did my father happen to mention I’m an FBI agent?”

“Fuck.”

“It could’ve been worse,” she said. “I could be DEA. Lucky for you I don’t give a rip about your drug habit as long as you don’t work in home health-care ever again. Now get out of here before I just give in to temptation and beat you up. Loser.”

He disappeared pretty fast, but Laine lost the tough act and sank to one of the benches outside the study doors. Another one, gone. She’d been here almost six weeks and had been through six aides. There was one who was working out—Carl. He was fifty-six and had done this work for years, came highly recommended and from what she could observe he did an excellent job. She’d asked him for recommendations but those he thought of highly were otherwise engaged. He was more expensive than most and from what she was learning, worth every penny. But they needed two attendants. At least. She couldn’t leave her father until he was covered 24/7.

Although she was feeling very sorry for herself she knew she should be grateful. Her father was lucky. He had enough money to pay for the disabilities of his old age. What was she thinking? She was lucky! What would she do if there was no money to pay for all this caretaking? Except that right now she was the only caretaker.

Laine entered the house. Mrs. Mulligrew was in the kitchen, giving it a good cleaning, but Laine couldn’t find Senior. Laine had lost her father. In the house!

She could hear him softly calling for his wife, for Janice, but she couldn’t find him. She went from room to room, calling, “Dad? Where are you, Dad?” And just when she’d start to get closer, he’d be quiet. She had to enlist Mrs. Mulligrew’s help and the two of them were racing all over the large, three-story, six-thousand-square-foot house. Laine wondered, who do you call when this happens? Do you dial 911? But he was here, somewhere....

She could hear him calling out, softly. “Janice? Janice?”

She called louder and louder, so afraid that he might hurt himself before she found him. She looked in closets, under beds, behind furniture, in the wine cellar and attic, her pulse racing. Then Mrs. Mulligrew said, “Shhhh. No more yelling. Just listening. He’s afraid.”

So they prowled around, straining for a sound. It took an hour before they found him sitting on the floor inside a guest room shower. “Dad!”

“Where’s your mother got to?” he asked. “I could hear her but couldn’t find her. I think she’s sick. Is she sick?”

“Oh, Dad, I think you took ten years off my life!”

The three of them sat at the kitchen table and had a cup of tea and Laine’s hands shook so much she could barely lift her cup. She’d been in life-threatening situations without this much fear and shaking.

She called Eric three times that day; called Pax and Genevieve twice. But all her conversations were on the fly—keeping tabs on her father at all times. It seemed an eternity before he laid down for a nap. She settled into Senior’s den and fired up his computer, logging on to check her email. There was a note from Devon and she read it. Devon asked after Laine’s family, her father, herself. She gave a little local news—it sounded so boring! Laine felt tears sting her eyes—she so longed for that life again. She missed Eric desperately; she missed her friends. She missed sleeping through the night without interruption, without getting up three or four times to make sure Senior was resting. And then Devon asked, Spencer and I are getting married, very quietly if we can get away with it. Will you be back in July? Will you be my maid of honor?

And Laine put her head down on the desk and sobbed. She hadn’t cried like this since she was in high school. Not even when her mother passed away did she feel emotion this intense, this final.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Genevieve said from the doorway. “Lainie, Lainie....”

She lifted her head and wiped at her eyes. “Sorry,” she muttered. “It’s just...” And the tears came again.

Genevieve came into the room and sat on the edge of the desk. “He must’ve really scared you,” she said. “But he’s all right now!”

“Yes, I know. But Gen, he’s going to be like this for years. I thought I could make some arrangements for him, be sure he’s safe and cared for and then I could...” More tears flowed. “I’m never going to get home.”

“Oh, darling, you will. If necessary, we’ll find a safe and comfortable facility with specialists who can see he gets everything he needs.”

She was shaking her head. “At least eighty percent of the time he’s completely lucid. And when he is, he begs me not to put him in a home! How can I do that just so I can see the view, be with my friends, have Eric....” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. “I can’t give up on him now. It would devastate him. And he’s trying so hard.”

“Laine, we’re not going to let you give up your life for this. We’ll find a way.”

“Good luck with that. I could never leave him and have nightmares about bad caregivers who lose track of him or steal from him or go out back to grab a joint!” She bit a trembling lip. “Sometimes he’s so scared.”

Genevieve stroked her shoulder. “Listen to me. Most families make do with far fewer resources than we have. If you weren’t here, what would Pax and I do? I imagine I’d be running over here twice a day. Laine, this is terrific of you, but we do have to be realistic. Your parents kept your grandmother until it became impossible for them to work and raise a family with a patient in need of so much care and supervision in the house. There comes a time...”

She nodded bravely. “I know. But that time isn’t here yet. He needs me. Someone has to be here, if not to watch him then to watch the caregivers!”

“You’re so tired,” Genevieve said. “I’m going to get you a glass of wine, then I’m going to stay with you until you’ve had a nap. We’re going to talk about this when we’re not all so afraid to do the wrong thing.”

“What about the girls? Don’t you have to pick them up from school?”

“I’ll call my sister. We help each other out with our kids when we can. Now come on, you need a break. I think you’re just overwhelmed.”

“Oh, I’m overwhelmed all right. But I’m also beginning to see how hopeless this is. I just can’t see the end....”

* * *

Al made it as far as Seattle where he took on some part-time piecework on a loading dock at a big box store. There was no friend in need, of course. And he wouldn’t be in Seattle long—it was almost time to head for Iowa. He had a date with a tombstone and a bunch of flowers. He’d get to see Carol, something he always looked forward to. That glimpse of her, once a year, was good for his heart. She was a fine woman who was aging delicately and sweetly. He was glad she had a good life.

Then he might head for Michigan. There was a trucking company there he liked. They always needed drivers because the work was hard and the pay not so great. But before he got on with his summer schedule, he called Eric.

“Hey, boss,” he said.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You headed back to town by any chance?”

“No, sorry. My buddy still needs me. His, ah, business is in a crunch and I’m helping out. But how’s things with you?”

“All right, considering...” Eric said.

“Considering what?” Al asked.

“Well, Laine’s stuck in Boston with her father. She had this idea she’d take him home, fix him up with some good help and come back, but it’s not working out that way. The family needs her there.”

“Have you given any thoughts to going to Boston?”

Eric laughed a little. “I think about it all the time,” he said. “I’m not like you, Al. I put down roots. I like roots. I have a business and a daughter. Maybe some day, but not today. Lots of people depend on me and I’m good with that. Not sure I’m the best person for the job but it works for me to give it everything I’ve got. That’s the best I can do.”

“Bet Laine depends on you, too,” Al said.

“She does,” he said. “And I think this thing with her dad’s illness hurts her heart. I can hear it when we talk. I can’t move to Boston. But I am thinking about a visit.”

“Good,” Al said. “That’s good. And how’s that kid? Justin? How’s he getting along?”

“He’s working mighty hard. He seems to be holding up all right.”

“He say anything about his brothers? And how they’re doing in that foster home?”

“Yeah, uh...he says that place isn’t great. But he’s got himself convinced that when he turns eighteen, everything will get back to normal and he’ll have his brothers back. I tried to tell him it probably isn’t going to be that simple, that easy, but he won’t hear it.”

“Maybe it will be simple and easy....”

“Not likely. Justin is working eighty hours a week just to keep the wolf from the door. That doesn’t leave a lot of time to parent, even if he really is just a big brother. The only thing that worries me... Well, it’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to.”

“What worries you?” Al asked.

“Nothing. Forget about it. Hey, that check you gave him, that was really nice of you, Al. I got him to open a bank account rather than cash it or carry it around.”

“What worries you?” Al asked again.

“It’s probably nothing. He just said if he doesn’t get custody right away when he’s eighteen, he’ll just get those boys out of that house. I told him not to get crazy—I said talk to me first, maybe I can help.”

“Jesus.”

“Listen, I was real specific—I said before you go and kidnap those boys in the dark of night, talk to me. It’s probably just talk.”

“Keep an eye on him,” Al said. “He’s not a big talker, that one. Usually when he says something, he means it.”

“I’m watching, Al. You doing all right?”

“Yeah. Great. Fine. Maybe I’ll get done sooner than later. With my friend’s business...”

“You know you’ve always got a place here,” Eric said.

“Appreciate that,” Al replied. “Take care.” And then he stared at the phone. It works for me to give it everything I’ve got....

All Al had wanted since he was about nineteen years old was a second chance and if he was honest with himself, there had been a lot of them. But he never seized them. He was always too afraid of failing again, of not being good enough, of not measuring up. Yet this young man, Eric, was happy to be counted as the one trying hardest. And Justin, all seventeen years of him, would never quit. Never. And if Al gave in to his own fear and insecurity now, Justin could be lost. How much pride was a young man worth?

He packed up. He didn’t bother collecting a final check from his employer. He checked out of his motel room and pointed the truck south. He wasn’t sure this would turn out the way he wanted it to, but for the first time in almost a lifetime he was willing to gamble on himself.

When he had one hundred miles under his belt, he stopped for a sandwich and Coke. And he called Carol. “Hey,” he said. “Listen, something came up. I’m afraid I’m not going to get home this summer.”

“Are you okay, Mick?” she asked.