Page 25 of Guarded Secrets
“Got it, Dad?”
“I got it, I got it. Stirring’s not rocket science.”
Despite his response, Keeley kept an eye on him. She’d already caught him with the salt shaker, sprinkling away. They were following an oatmeal cookie recipe his mother had used when he was a boy. She’d seen a social media post suggesting baking with family recipes as a good activity to connect mid-stage Alzheimer’s patients with their memories. Added benefit? Yummy cookies.
“Do you remember baking with Nana when you were little?”
He nodded. “Mama let me lick the spoon. The smell when they baked was the best.”
“You’ll have to let me know if these taste just as good.”
She added the chopped walnuts to the mixture. Once they were folded in, Bruce carefully scooped dough to drop onto the tray. She slid the tray into the oven and set the timer.
Their marmalade cat Iggy sat on the wide window ledge, orange tail swishing as he watched birds at the bird feeder. Squirrels were his obsession, and more than once he’d thought he could pounce through the window. Good thing he was an indoor cat, or the wild animal population would be hunted into decline.
The wide window ledges were only one part of the kitchen remodel Abby and Bruce had done last fall. Quartz countertops, new cabinetry, and fresh paint worked together to make the space more welcoming and comfortable.
Bruce gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m going to lie down.”
“Okay, Dad. Our cookies will be done by the time you wake up.”
Iggy trailed behind him. The cat was his constant companion. Keeley studied her father’s gait. He seemed to be shuffling his feet more.
She sighed. Nothing would stop the progression of the disease, and it seemed like every week there was something new, something else to add to the list of what the disease had stolen from her dad, from their family.
Keeley sat at the kitchen table where she and her parents had shared so many meals and important family discussions. Their little family of three was all she had. Keeley’d had a little brother, briefly. Her mother had given birth to a little boy who’d died hours later. She’d been four when he’d been born, and what she remembered most was a deep sadness permeating their home. She’d always tried to be a good girl, not to cause trouble, and had tried to bring joy to replace the sadness.
For years her parents had kept a photo of the tiny infant on the mantel. She’d study his newborn face, searching for any clue of what he’d have looked like if he’d survived. Would he have kept the dark hair? Would he have had her dad’s brown eyes, or Abby’s gray eyes, or the mix Keeley had gotten with her hazel?
Her own pregnancy had ended after only a few brief months. She’d cherished that tiny life, but then it had been gone, disappearing in a rush of blood and pain. She’d learned at a young age that loving someone meant risking everything, since that person could be stripped away from you in an instant. Or, she thought, who they were could erode slowly over time by a memory-wasting disease.
Shaking off the melancholy, she rose to check the cookies. She hoped her friends’ pregnancies were healthy and uneventful, and that all they had to worry about was picking out names and decorating nurseries.
While using a metal spatula to slide the cookies onto a cooling rack, her phone pinged with a text.
She prepped the next tray and had it in the oven before returning to the table to check her phone. Jaxon’s name showed on the screen.
Ugh. He’d texted her after their breakup, trying to convince her to give them another chance. The texts had all been in the same vein: They were soulmates and belonged together. Their kind of love was destined by the stars. You couldn’t argue with fate when fate had brought them together. Blah, blah, blah.
He’d finally stopped so she hadn’t bothered blocking his number. So here he was again oozing about how it was fate that he’d run into her at the bar, and that he was still in town and they should get together for old times’ sake.
Did he even remember their conversation the previous evening? She typed out a firm “no,” and hit send. That was it, no explanation, no excuses. Then she blocked his number as she should’ve done months ago.
But a thought nagged at her: How had he known to find her at Easy Money? She wasn’t buying that he’d happened to show up where she was working.
She sat with her chin in her hand as she thought of who she’d told where she was working: her parents, her friends in Sisters, Yousef.
Yousef was a gossip so he definitely could’ve told others, but while they’d met at a holiday party, Yousef and Jaxon didn’t know each other. It wasn’t like where she worked was a secret or anything, but it did make her wonder how Jaxon had known where to find her.
Abby came through the kitchen door carrying a grocery bag and wearing a trim quilted vest in deep purple over a long-sleeved t-shirt paired with olive green jeans. “It’s warmed up a bit today. I think spring is truly on the way.” She set the bag on the counter. “Those cookies smell heavenly. Your dad help you with them?”
Keeley nodded as she rose to put the kettle on for tea while Abby unpacked groceries. “He’s napping. Baking wore him out.” She sighed. “He’s getting crankier, even a little mean.”
Abby’s sigh held a world of sorrow. “It’s this monstrous disease. Your father is the kindest man I’ve ever known, and it’s taking that part of him away from us.”
“I know, Mom. It’s hard for him, but it’s harder on you.”
Abby gathered Keeley in a hug. “It’s hard on all of us.” She released her daughter and together they put away the groceries.
