The Family Gathering (Sullivan's Crossing #3)(63)

When she was finished and had paid, she took a walk down the block. Summer was full upon them and the June sun was reluctant to set. She sat down on a bench in a small park surrounded by little houses and in no time at all she realized her mistake—she would have to try to retrace her path back to the restaurant in order to call her taxi or car service because she wasn’t going to be able to give her location.

But she sat.

She knew her medication had worn off—she was feeling all those uncomfortable feelings again. She was edgy, frightened, exhausted, tense. She knew all she would need was a prescription and then all these issues would be over—she would sleep, she would feel blessed calm, unless there was some major stressor invading her life.

But when Bob found out that she left the hospital and hid out at Maggie’s, he was going to flip. He’d lock her up again. And the next place might not be as nice!

It was dusk when an elderly woman walked by. She noted the suitcase sitting beside Sedona and said, “Oh, my. This looks ominous.”

“I’m going to call a cab for the airport,” Sedona told her.

“I see,” the lady said. “Going on a trip, are you?”

“I’m going home. I’ve been...visiting.” Then Sedona looked around and discovered she didn’t have her purse. “Where’s my purse?” she asked. “I don’t seem to have my purse!”

“I’m forgetting things all the time,” the woman said with a laugh. “Let’s walk back to where you were visiting and see if you left it there.”

“I was at the restaurant. Loman’s. Do you know the place? I paid my check with a credit card so I know I had it. But now...” She looked around frantically, looked up and down the walk.

“That’s almost a mile from here,” the woman said. “You must have left it there. My house is right there—the one with three boulders near the front door. Would you like to use my phone to call the restaurant and ask them to take care of it for you until you can walk back and pick it up?”

Sedona said that would help. And the woman introduced herself as Alice.

Alice’s little house had a very musty smell and was furnished with aging furniture, though the structure wasn’t that old.

“My husband and I bought this house a dozen years ago and then he passed away and I live alone now,” Alice said. “It’s a good house in a good neighborhood. With the park across the street and all the children, I’m happy here. Just old. Forgetful and a bother, but it’s only age. So what, I say. There’s the phone, dear. I’ve never had one of those cell things and I’m not going to.”

“Then do you have a directory?” Sedona asked.

“A what? What’s that?”

“I don’t know the phone number of the restaurant,” Sedona said.

“Perhaps you should call the people you were visiting,” Alice suggested.

Of course Sedona didn’t remember Cal’s number. Having those things handy on your cell phone was not good for the memory. Alice had a serviceable computer and they managed to come up with a phone number for Loman’s restaurant, but they claimed no purse had been left behind. Sedona was getting ready to walk back to the restaurant to see if she’d lost it along the way, but it was now almost dark.

She felt so helpless and she started to cry.

Alice, as it turned out, felt equally helpless. She said her son was planning to lock her up also! He lived in Arizona but claimed his mother couldn’t take care of herself and he couldn’t visit her every day so he wanted to sell the house she lived in and use the money to place her in a home of some kind. But her house was paid off. Alice didn’t want to live in a home! He said she was irresponsible. That he didn’t approve of her spending. He sent her an allowance and paid her bills and wouldn’t allow her to buy anything without permission. He set up an account at the pharmacy and grocery, but otherwise controlled her money. “He just wants me dead so he can sell this house!”

Sedona spilled some of her story—her husband was threatening divorce if she didn’t get mental help! And she’d spent ten days in a mental hospital, and while the medication did make her feel better, it had not been a great experience. She’d been frightened and isolated. She missed her children desperately but was terrified to go home.

Alice made tea and Sedona began to clean the kitchen and the refrigerator. And she found there was laundry to do. The bathroom needed attention, serious attention. All the while they talked. They talked almost through the night while Sedona cleaned and Alice nodded off in the chair, but it was all right, she said. She hadn’t really gone to bed at bedtime since her husband died. She’d slept in her chair, about two hours here, two hours there, bored and lonely and always tired.

This is how I will be, but no one will set up accounts or watch over me, Sedona thought.

Sedona had grown to fear the bed—it meant only anxiety and restlessness for her. She saw herself in Alice, a lonely old woman who was seen as a burden, a problem.

That was almost a week ago. The locks on the doors were strong, but Alice didn’t get frazzled when Sedona checked them several times a day. The park at dawn or dusk was refreshing and Sedona told Alice more than she’d told her therapist and Alice had told her life story over and over again. The same story actually—she repeated herself. Sedona didn’t mind. Sedona cleaned and cooked and taught Alice how to order her groceries by the phone and made her a small chart to check off her meals when she ate them. Sedona kept track of every nickel and promised to send Alice a check when they parted ways. She promised to pay her half and, in the meantime, made lovely little meals for them to share.