Missing Pieces(6)

“I’m so sorry about Julia,” Sarah said, and reached out her arms as he pulled her into a hug. “What are the doctors saying?”

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets. “She has a fractured skull and broken bones. Almost too many to count. But she’s a strong old bird.”

“What happened?” Jack asked, looking down at his aunt. Sarah knew that he was thinking the same thing she was: it was a miracle this elderly wisp of a woman was still alive.

“All we know is that she fell down the stairs sometime early yesterday evening. Amy was the one who found her and called 9-1-1.”

“How’s your dad doing?” Sarah asked. “I bet he’s just sick about it.”

“He’s doing okay. I don’t think he can believe this is happening. He’s down in the cafeteria with Amy, getting something to eat.”

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of Amy for weeks,” Jack said, “but she never answers her phone.”

Dean hesitated before speaking. “That was something I was hoping to talk to you about.”

“Why don’t we take a walk and get some air,” Celia said to Sarah, but Jack shook his head.

“I don’t mind if Sarah stays if you don’t,” Jack said. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s about Amy,” Dean explained. “Let’s go outside.”

They moved into the hallway and Jack looked expectantly at his cousin. “Is Amy okay? Did something happen?”

“We’re worried about her,” Celia said uncomfortably.

“I hate to spring this on you,” Dean said, scratching the back of his neck. “And I know this is the last thing you need to hear right now, but Amy’s been having a hard time lately.”

“Of course she’s having a hard time,” Jack said with confusion. “Julia’s like a mother to her.”

“It’s more than that,” Dean said. “She was acting strange before the fall, too.”

“Has she been drinking again?” Jack asked. Sarah thought of Jack’s dad and his drinking. Alcoholism ran in families, but Jack drank only socially, never allowing it to impair his thinking.

“I think so, maybe pain pills, too. She lost her job at the motel a few weeks ago.”

“She’s worked there for over two years. Do you know what happened?”

“She was showing up late, not showing up at all—that’s what I heard.”

Two nurses dressed in green scrubs brushed passed them and Sarah’s eyes followed them down the depressingly dim corridor. She noticed on the ceiling that a brown spot had bloomed against the white plaster and rainwater dripped rhythmically into a large bucket below. She imagined mold and mildew festering behind the walls.

“Amy walks around like a zombie half the time and she’s lost a lot of weight. I just don’t want you to be shocked when you see her.”

“How’s she paying her bills?” Jack asked. “Has she found another job yet?”

“I don’t think so, but she’s still living in that little rental house on Oleander, so she hasn’t been evicted yet. I’m guessing that my mom and dad have been giving her some money to get by.” Dean shifted his weight uncomfortably. “They’re on a fixed income themselves and don’t have a lot of extra cash to spare.”

“Hal and Julia shouldn’t have to pay Amy’s way,” Jack said quietly. “She’s a grown woman.”

“We just thought you’d want to know,” Celia said. “I’ve tried talking to her, but she hasn’t been answering my calls, either.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak when something down the hallway caught his eye.

“Jack?” Sarah asked, but his eyes were fixed on a point in the distance, down the hall. He didn’t answer and Sarah repeated his name, this time more loudly. “What is it?” she asked as she turned and followed his sharp gaze, but all she saw was a doctor standing at the nurse’s station taking notes on a chart.

“Nothing,” Jack replied, and shook his head. Sarah thought he seemed confused. “It’s nothing,” he repeated with finality, and turned his attention back to them. “So, you think Amy’s been abusing pain pills? Have you talked to her about it?”

“My mom has. I know she was worried about her and they argued about it a few days before the fall.”

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll try and talk to her before we go back home.”

“Here comes Hal now,” Celia said.

An elderly man wearing work boots and a frayed tan barn jacket approached. Though he was nearly six feet tall and broad-shouldered, he was a smaller, softer version of Dean. His bald head was speckled with age spots and sun damage, and his weary, deeply lined face lit up when he saw them. “Jack,” he said warmly. Behind thick glasses, his eyes glistened with emotion and worry. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Uncle Hal,” Jack said, reaching for the older man. They clung to each other for a long time and Jack closed his eyes as he settled comfortably into their embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

Hal pulled away, smiling through tears. He took Jack’s face in his hands. “You know when she wakes up she’s going to give you hell for taking so long to come back home.”