Together she and Lois chose the company that seemed best suited for the job, and by the questions Lois asked the young representative, one would never know she was showing the early symptoms of dementia. That’s what made this all so hard. She not only had lucid moments, she had lucid hours and even the occasional day without doing or saying anything entirely off the wall.
Then came the day Lois had to go to the library where she read books onto tape as a volunteer. “You could go to work for a few hours if you want to,” she invited Charlene. “You could just drop me off and come back later.”
It was very tempting, Charlene thought. Every day the work that accumulated on her desk grew taller. But she didn’t want Lois to be “left.” “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked her mother.
“I’m not going to give up my volunteer work until I absolutely have to.”
“Or you could ask Jasper. I’m sure he’d be delighted.”
“I could, but I’ve never liked asking.”
That was Lois in a nutshell, and one of the things that was going to make taking care of her so difficult. She didn’t like to ask for help. And, if the help was going to act put out about it, she would feel terrible. “Let me go with you, Mom,” Charlene said. And in thinking about it, she grew happier about the idea. The work would always be there. “It will be like revisiting my youth. It’s been years and years since I’ve gone to the library just to poke around, play with books, find something to read that’s completely entertaining.”
“I’m surprised you can stomach the idea, after being held hostage in a library all your childhood, then spending so many years in law libraries.”
“The library has always been a comfort, like a second home.”
In jeans, tennis shoes and a T-shirt, as opposed to her usual lawyerly suit, Charlene looked like a young girl. And like a girl, she sat on the floor in the adult fiction section, the D-F aisle strictly by happenstance, and paged through novel after novel, just visiting the books. The construction of the “to be read” stack had always been her favorite part about reading when she was a preteen. She liked to play with her books in much the same way a cat plays with a lizard before she bites off its head. The covers were the first to catch her eye, then the title. She’d then read the jacket blurb, but the most important factor was the first page or two.
While she consciously looked through books and Peaches sat in an enclosed room behind the periodicals reading into a tape recorder, Charlene’s subconscious was remembering her childhood by the sounds and smells of the library. We didn’t do too badly, Peaches and me, she thought. In the first apartment building they had lived in, Lois had been the only woman with a child whose husband was seldom around. But the neighbors were friendly and supportive. In fact, there were lots of them who would have kept Charlene after school, but that wasn’t what Lois had wanted to do. “She’ll get her homework done at the library, plus read a little extra. It’ll be good for her.” And now that Charlene remembered it, the neighbors also weren’t judgmental about this man who wandered through their lives every now and then.
Then there was the purchase of that new little house in Fair Oaks, surrounded by trees and rolling hills, in the shadow of the mountains. What an achievement that was. Now, having worked as she had, raising a daughter of her own, Charlene finally realized what it must have taken for her librarian mom to save enough money to get into that house.
When they’d moved, they’d only had enough furniture for one and a half rooms—the bedroom set they shared and a couch, small chair, coffee table, lamp and two TV trays. Again Lois saved, pinching those pennies. The very first purchase of furniture she indulged for the new house was white Provençal-style bedroom furniture for Charlene, so that she could have her own space, her own grown-up bed.
She had three books in a stack and was staring at the first page of the first, not really absorbing the words. Instead she was thinking, So, my father was a real screwup, but a fun guy. So he wasn’t real reliable, but then it turns out we never relied on him anyway. So, just how messed up am I because of my father? Probably about as much as I want to be.
“Mrs. Dugan?”
She looked up into the frowning face of Elizabeth Nelson, the children’s librarian. “We need you. Could you please come and do something about your mother.”
“Oh God,” she said, jumping to her feet. She ran, streaking through the library at breakneck speed, back through periodicals, where she’d left Lois. The door was ajar and a young man was looking inside. Charlene pushed him aside, maybe roughly, but then she was stopped by what she saw. Her mother stood in the corner of the small study cubicle, slowly and rhythmically banging her head into the wall. Charlene was momentarily paralyzed. Then she recovered, took three long steps into the room and grasped her mother’s shoulders. “Mom?” she said, stopping her and turning her around.
Long streaks of tears coursed down Lois’s cheeks. She bit her lip and shook her head, a deep and horrible sadness so penetrating Charlene felt it in the pit of her stomach. “Mom, what is it?”
“Oh, Charlene,” she said shakily, her voice a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know the words.”
“Oh, Mom,” she said, pulling her close and holding her. “Mom, it’s okay. You’ll know them later today. You’ll see.”
Lois sobbed into Charlene’s shoulder. “Do you know what it means if I can’t read? Do you know what that means?”
“Mom, you’re okay. It’s a hiccup. The words will come back later today. Or tonight. They’re not gone forever.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
Charlene brushed the tears from her mother’s cheeks, first the right side, then the left. “Because when they’re gone forever,” she whispered, “you won’t even know they’re missing.”
For a moment Lois just looked at her in confusion, and slowly she began to recover. First the terrible grief left her eyes, then her lips relaxed. Then, remarkably, a half smile played on her lips and she let go a little huff of laughter. “Oh, what a comfort you are.”
Charlene smiled back. “Let’s go home, okay?”
“Might as well. I’m done reading for the moment.”
“I’ll bring the book,” Charlene said. “I’ll mark the page and you can look at it later.”
“Eternal optimist.”
Lois walked out of the room ahead of Charlene. People had gathered outside, waiting to see who the kook was who had been banging her head. Lois lifted her chin and met their eyes with challenge, until one by one they turned away. It made Charlene feel, for the moment, so very proud of her mother’s courage.
Charlene doubled back a couple of steps, popped the tape out of the still-running recorder and slipped it into her pocket.
It was the situation at the library that cautioned Charlene enough to suggest to her mother that they have some legal documentation in place before some unfortunate incident made it necessary. “Leave it to a lawyer,” Lois said.
“A power of attorney isn’t really quite enough,” she explained. “That allows you and someone you appoint to take care of certain legal matters, like the sale of a house or the purchase of a vehicle. But if you appoint a conservator, you don’t have to worry about legal and financial responsibilities. And if, in a forgetful moment, you make some sort of mistake—like give your life savings to a charity—you’d be protected. Your conservator, your legal guardian, could get it back.”
“I’m not going downhill that fast, you know,” Lois pointed out.
“Of course not, and I can understand why a woman as independent as you wouldn’t want to give up control. But what if a workman needs to be paid and you’re a little…how should I put it—”
“In another mental zone?” Lois supplied.
“Okay,” Charlene agreed slowly.
“I’m not ready,” she said. “No legal papers yet. Workmen can wait. God knows they’ve kept me waiting often enough in my life.”
“Okay, there are two ways to do this. We can
go to some family court judge together, fully understanding what’s happening and making legal preparations before it’s necessary. Or, I can go to court later and declare you incompetent. The latter is usually very uncomfortable for everyone.”
“Lois, as difficult as it is to think about, I think it’s very prudent. Caution is the watchword here,” Jasper said.
“Then I’ll make you my guardian,” she said to Jasper.
“Mother! Now that hurts!”
“Well, you and I don’t agree on anything, especially how and where I should spend my time or money!”
“I’m not going to be anyone’s guardian,” Jasper said. “How about another family member? What about Stephanie?”
“Well now,” they both said. Both women erroneously thought Stephanie would be easy to control. Neither of them had been acquainted with the new, improved Stephanie.
She called Stephanie to ask if she could sneak away from school to meet them at the courthouse.
“I know this is short notice, but we need to see a judge in family court about a legal guardian for Peaches, in case she becomes incompetent. You know, for medical and financial decisions. A judge I’m close to, Judge Kemp, is going to squeeze a little time out of his schedule to meet with us. Peaches won’t let me be the responsible party….”
Stephanie giggled. “Bet that really pissed you off,” she said.
“She’s willing to let it be you. And I trust that you’ll absolutely listen to my advice on any of these matters, especially with your grandmother’s health and income at stake.”
“Whoa,” she said almost reverently. “Me?”
“Yes, you. Did you hear what I said? About listening to me?”
“Listen? Of course. I always listen.”
“And pay attention,” Charlene stressed.
“This must be sheer hell for a control freak like you,” Stephanie suggested.
“You are the serpent’s tooth, for sure.”
So they were to meet outside of Judge Kemp’s office, where Stephanie would, with a bit too much glee, agree to be Peaches’s working brain. Charlene decided it was rather fitting as they’d always sided against her anyway, made her their common enemy on issues like bedtime, curfews, dating and chores. Grandmothers and granddaughters, bonded for life by the simple tension between mothers and daughters. I can’t wait until she has a child, Charlene found herself thinking. I’m going to quit work, take over its life, spoil it rotten and overturn all her decisions.
This was a big moment, and despite the attempt at levity surrounding Peaches’s choice of conservator, they all knew there was no going back from this. Not only would this remain in effect till the last breath Peaches took, but she was not going to get better. The best they could hope for was that she wouldn’t get worse quickly.
Here they were, the three women of this family, charging out of denial on bulls and into the truth. Together.
Twelve
Charlene was very grateful to Stephanie for offering to take Lois out to lunch and then home. She knew that Pam was holding the flood of legal work at bay, trying to make it seem manageable, with all the tenacity of the Little Dutch Boy. She could see the stress building behind her assistant’s eyes. But now that Lois had been thoroughly examined and was on medication, and the reconstruction in her house was well under way, Charlene could spend a little more time in the office and a little less time running errands.
There was no mistaking the relief that flooded Pam’s features when she walked in. “Hello!” she beamed. “How are we doing today?”
“Pretty good, thanks,” Charlene said, and accepted a frighteningly thick stack of messages.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Pam said. “Five of them are from Dennis.”
“Dennis? Well, why didn’t—” She stopped mid-sentence and reached into her purse for her phone. She took it out, looked at it and turned it on, feeling ridiculous. “I think I’m the one getting Alzheimer’s. I was in a meeting, turned off the phone and forgot to turn it back on.” On the small face it said, “5 missed calls.” “I wonder what’s so urgent. Will you see if you can get him on the line for me?”
“You bet.”
The minute Charlene was inside her office, she was shaken by a feeling of being home. This week of so many family chores was not done begrudgingly. She was devoted to Lois, but it was here that she thrived and did the life’s work that made her soar, that mattered most to her. It was here that she prepared to win battles for people who could not win them for themselves. For women and children who had no other champion; for families who couldn’t resolve painful issues for themselves. For couples who couldn’t keep it together anymore, and the kids, who, without some dignified conclusion to their parents’ crisis, would flounder into confused adults who would only repeat the cycle.
This was the work that defined her.
Her intercom buzzed. Pam said, “I have Dennis on the line, and Maxie just called to say she’s on her way in.” She felt her pulse pick up speed as she wondered what Maxie had learned. It had been weeks of getting nowhere on the Jersynski custody matter. Then her eyes caught the stack of folders in her in box—all open cases. With that distraction, she took Dennis’s call. “Hi, Dennis. I’m sorry, I was in a meeting and forgot to turn my phone back on. I’m forgetting a lot of things lately.”
“You have a lot on your mind. Can you get away for lunch?”
“I can’t. I just walked into the office, and if you could see the relief on Pam’s face, you wouldn’t leave her either.”
“I haven’t seen you in days….”
“I’ve been so busy….”
“The only time I saw you last week was at Jasper’s house, with Peaches and Stephanie. We haven’t had a private conversation in…Jesus, Charlene, I don’t even know how long.”
“What can I say? It’s not deliberate. And things should lighten up soon, now that we have Peaches stabilized and the work on her house has begun.” Charlene heard Maxie’s voice in the outer office, but she couldn’t hear what she was saying. Then her voice was joined by another familiar one, that of Jake. And Dennis was saying, “…really need to talk, Charlene. It’s important.”
“I know, Dennis, I know. The wedding. And we will, I promise. But right now there are people waiting to see me, a pile of work that could sink a battleship on my desk, and I’m simply exhausted. Can I call you back?”
“This is very important.”
“I agree. And the very second I get a minute to call my own, it’s yours. All right?”
Her intercom was buzzing and she said, “Send them in.” Suddenly Dennis was no longer on the line and she wasn’t sure whether or not she’d even said goodbye. But the thought went away quickly as she went back into action, ready to champion a young woman trying to hang on to her kids.
The personal importance of this case to Charlene was evident purely in her acceptance of this impromptu meeting. Ordinarily she was too busy to condone this sort of interruption, and too well organized to suffer the consequences of a schedule breach. But all of her organizational skills were becoming lax along with her memory, right at the time she needed both the most.
“I trust this means you have some earthshaking information,” she said to Maxie, giving Jake an informal nod of hello. “Have the two of you met?”
“We run into each other from time to time,” Maxie said.
“We tried to arrest Maxie here for solicitation once, as a matter of fact. Turns out she was working all right…but not as a hooker. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime.”
“It was one of my highlights,” Maxie said without humor. She took a seat and addressed Charlene. “What I have is a lot of very interesting innuendo and no conclusion.”
“Shoot.”
“Okay, first of all, there’s nothing on the ex-husband. He’s clean. You know I have no respect for a man who abandons a child and its mother. However, it appears that’s the only truly bad thing he’s done. He’s not a perv, a felon or an
abuser. And here’s another thing you don’t hear from me very often. If he slugged Meredith in the face, I bet she provoked the hell out of him.”
Jake whistled. Both women glared at him and he looked over his shoulder as though he couldn’t possibly be the guilty party. He decided it was time to take a seat and try to be quiet.
“I’m not saying I’d blame her. She’d have to be mad as hell at the guy, knocking her up at sixteen, abandoning her to the streets of Sacramento with a baby, then coming back around a dozen years later to pick up the kid. I’d have a few choice words for him if I were her. He’d wanna belt me after a few minutes, too.
“Now, here’s what I know about the custody thing. The kid he has with the second wife is nine, and she didn’t just have a sick day from school—she has cancer. Childhood leukemia. She’s been very, very sick and spends a lot of time in Texas at a big cancer hospital called M.D. Anderson. Rick Jersynski said he just wanted his daughters to meet. He said he would have waited, but the sick child said it was her wish to have a sister. And guess what? Rick came up with one.
“It was the mother, the second wife, who hired an investigator to get the goods on Meredith and convince her husband that they would be a better family for the girl. Whether or not that’s the case, it’s the mother I worry about and I’ll tell you why. I found out from a source in the hospital that they’ve failed to find a match for a bone marrow transplant in the family. I think the mother has ulterior motives.”
“And not the father?”
Maxie shrugged. “This illness has really broken him down. He seems oblivious. The mother, however, seems angry. Motivated. She’s the one who hired the detective, called the lawyer.”
“I talked to the lawyer,” Charlene said. “He’s sticking to the case on its merits. Which is exactly what I would do. Did you get any information about the shooting?”