72
The next morningI gotup early, Lenore still in a full, deep sleep beside me. I had an idea. My old lady wanted a church wedding, so I’d make it the best experience for her. Memorable. She needed beautiful souvenirs of our good times to keep forever, and I was going to do everything I could to make that happen for her. I headed to the Garden Center in Pine Needle.
Gail was at the front desk going over folders stuffed with orders, bills, and delivery slips. Steve and Tim were moving big planters into neat rows at the other end of the store.
I’d seen right through Gail’s bright smile the second she’d looked up and laid eyes on me. It was a bit too forced; it was tired. Something was wrong.
“Hi, Finger. How are you? Getting ready for the big day?” She pushed the folders to the side. “Lenore and I went over the details for her bouquet and a few flower arrangements for the dinner party afterward.”
“She mentioned that, sounds great. I’m here about something else.”
“Oh, okay. Sure, go ahead.”
I took in a breath, raking my teeth against my bottom lip. Shit, I was actually nervous. “I wanted to ask you if Zoë could be Lenore’s flower girl. The wedding isn’t going to be some big production. Just a few friends is all—no bridesmaids or limos or any of that. Having Zoë be Lenore’s flower girl, to be there for the service, and you and Steve, of course, would be real special for her. So I was hoping you’d agree and—”
“No, no, Tim, not there! Just left of that.” Steve’s irritated voice rose from the other end of the room.
Gail’s face tensed, and she took in a tight breath.
“Steve okay?” I asked.
“It’s nothing.”
“You sure? If I can help, I will. Believe me.”
She let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I do believe you.” Her eyes darted to Steve and Tim working, her shoulders stiffening.
“Gail, what is it?”
“Steve used to do everything around here and at home, and that’s the way he likes it, but he’s just not strong enough anymore. And he’s very frustrated.”
“That sort of thing is hard on a man. Getting older isn’t easy.”
“It’s more than that. We finally got a diagnosis this morning,” she said, her voice low.
“A diagnosis?”
“He has Parkinson’s. It turns out, he’s had it for years, but he ignored the symptoms. Shaky hands, muscles that suddenly won’t cooperate.”
My mind went back to when I’d helped Steve unload the wheelbarrows from his truck. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Everything’s changing now,” Gail murmured. “We always used to be so focused on Zoë and her progress, and we’d found a real good balance with that. She’s done so well. She’s in a good place. But now, this. Steve was always our rock.
“The business has suffered lately too,” she continued. “The economy isn’t what it used to be, and we haven’t changed our way of doing things too much. We have a website, but it’s terribly out of date. We were planning on…” Her hands smoothed over the folders. “Well. Anyway, Steve’s had to slow down a lot, which upsets him. Asking for help upsets him. He has good days and bad days, and now there are lots of doctor and therapy appointments ahead of us, insurance forms to fill out.”
“You need to be on call all the time for him. There aren’t any breaks,” I said.
Her tired gaze met mine, a spark of relief flitting over her face. “No, there aren’t. The other night, he fell getting out of bed. Luckily he didn’t break a bone, but he bruised his arm. Zoë was very upset.”
“I’ll bet she was. Is there anything we can do for you?”
She blinked at me. “Oh no.” She shook her head. “You don’t…no.”
“Gail, this must be real overwhelming for all of you.”
“I need to take charge of Steve’s care and make a lot of new decisions now.”
“You have family who could pitch in?”