Page 72 of Tempting the Heart

The nurse and I traded a glance as I opened the drapes just as another woman arrived. The nurse excused herself as the woman took a few steps into the room.

“Mrs. Grant?” she asked.

“Of course. Who else would be here? His mistress?”

I closed my eyes and counted to three before opening them.

“I’m Nancy Collins, the social worker here.” The woman opened a folder she’d been holding. “We expect your husband to be released in three days if all goes well. After that, the physician noted that he needed to be in a rehabilitation facility for two weeks.”

My mom frowned. “No.”

The woman smiled at me and turned her attention to my mom. “No. What?”

“He’s coming home.”

“Unfortunately, under the circumstances, we can’t allow that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been in contact with APS, and they’ve determined that self-neglect has been occurring.”

My mom’s gaze flashed to me. “Is this your doing? What’s APS?”

I shook my head, as puzzled as my mom. “Why would I do that? I’ve been trying to make your home habitable.”

“APS is short for Adult Protective Services here in the state of Washington. This wasn’t from your son. The medics wrote notes and took pictures. We can’t force you, but if we exhaust all of our efforts and the courts need to intervene, and you’re found incompetent by the courts…”

I cleared my throat as I watched the horror wash over my mom’s expression.

“We don’t have any say over you, but at the moment, APS is stepping in for his safety.” She turned to me. “And you’re their son?”

I nodded, feeling my stomach tighten into a nauseous pit. “Yeah. I’ve been trying hard to improve things for them, but they won’t part with items.”

“I could see that.” She nodded. “It’s not your fault. I always want the children to understand that when we’re dealing with hoarding situations, there are a lot of factors at play.”

“Hoarder?” My mom stood. “I’m not a hoarder.”

“You have trails in your home.”

I was stunned by the bluntness of the social worker and wanted to bow down to her. Instead, I listened as she described a few of the nursing home facilities around Seattle, along with her suggestions for after the rehab.

My mom wouldn’t even make eye contact with the woman as the social worker laid down the folder. “These senior apartments are wonderful. You don’t even have to cook, and there is room available now if you’d like. I know it’s not your home, but it would allow you to be closer to your husband while he’s in the rehab facility, and it would give him a safe and clean environment when he’s out. I highly recommend this route. Getting the courts involved isn’t great for anyone. It’s a good location, near the bus line and market. I’ve already asked them to keep the hold. I just need a deposit.”

I opened my mouth to say something but closed it quickly since no words came out.

My mom let out a deep breath. “If I go home, he won’t be coming with me. You’re threatening me.”

“It’s not a threat, Mrs. Grant. We honestly can’t let him go home where he could get severely injured again.”

I had no idea what happened behind the scenes once the medics went to my parents’ home today, but something had obviously worsened in a matter of days. I saw them on Friday, and today was Sunday.

“Would you like me to look at the apartment?” I asked my mom.

My mom ignored me as the social worker slid me the brochure.

Everything was proceeding so fast, and I couldn’t even begin to figure out how any of this had happened.

Someone tapped lightly, and I looked up to see Bethany. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, and I didn’t even know why.

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