Letters For Emily Page 4

  “Be careful,” he warned, “you’ll start to look like they do.”

  She stopped dead in her tracks and gazed around the room. She knew he was right. There were no smiling faces or welcoming glances, no friendly exchanges or affectionate waves—only vacant, lonely, pitiful stares.

  “Bob, you’re right. This is creepy. Let’s get out of here.”

  “What? I was only kidding.”

  “No, you were right. Let’s go now.”

  “I’m right? Will you put that down on paper and sign it?”

  “Sure. Let’s just go.” Turning around, they picked up their pace to a trot as they headed back toward the door. In the safety of their car, Laura sighed deeply. “I guess we can cross that one off the list.”

  “I don’t know,” Bob replied, “Harry would have fit right in.”

  “Bob, don’t say things like that. At least try to be civil.”

  Bob didn’t say anything, knowing that if he continued he was bound to get the “if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all” lecture.

  The second stop went much better. The place was clean and more cheerful than the first. But it was the third home on their list, WestRidge Assisted Living Center, that impressed Laura.

  An elderly woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Drucilla Haddley greeted them at the door. She informed them that it was her turn to be the Saturday greeter and that she had made the chocolate chip cookies. In a polite but firm tone, she assured them that her cookies were much better than those that had been purchased at the store.

  The walls in the lobby were painted in up-to-date colors, making the atmosphere almost seem cheery. After visiting with Mrs. Haddley and two of her friends who’d wandered over, Bob and Laura were introduced to Dr. Shanon Crosby, the head of the center. She appeared to be in her mid fifties, with dark hair pulled like a schoolgirl’s into a ponytail. As they sat down in her office, they noticed a degree in geriatrics from Stanford hanging on the wall.

  “It’s so good to have you visit our facility today on behalf of Harry.” Laura was impressed she had remembered his name, and from only one phone conversation. Dr. Crosby turned to address Bob. “Now, if I recall correctly from your wife’s phone call, Harry is your father?”

  “Yes, that’s correct,” he replied.

  “Let me tell you both a little about our philosophy here at WestRidge. We’re different than most.” You can say that again, Laura thought, as the doctor continued. “Some people are strong and coherent until the day they die, but unfortunately, others aren’t. We offer three specific levels of care, ranging from considerable independence to extensive assistance. We want to make sure older people enjoy the highest possible quality of life—in comfort and dignity.”

  “How do you know when someone is ready for a place like this?” Bob questioned.

  “That’s a hard question to answer, and it depends on the individual. You do need to understand, though, that it’s difficult for any child to make the decision to admit a parent. By considering a center such as ours, you aren’t abandoning Harry. If he could be a danger to himself, then you’re actually getting him the help he needs. I had to put my mother in a home, years ago. That’s partly why I chose to get involved in this part of the healthcare industry. I’ve tried to create a place where I’d like to stay when I get to that point in mylife.” She knocked on her wooden desk. “What other questions?”

  Bob spoke again. “Harry, uh, Dad, is not, how shall I say it, he’s not well all of the time. Can you handle . . .” He wasn’t sure how to describe him.

  She had heard this question many times and answered before he even finished his sentence. “We employ trained professionals, from doctors and nurses to elderly-patientcare-personnel. They handle the problems of old age every day and have been trained to know what to do. If you decide to admit Harry, I’ll need to see his medical file. But barring a major medical problem that would require hospitalization, we can treat all the symptoms of aging right here.”

  Bob continued, “Do you have a fee schedule?”

  “Yes, sir. Of course.” Pulling a packet of information from a stack behind her desk, she handed it to him. “This will answer all of your questions, including your financial ones. Now, anything else, or are you ready to take the tour?”

  Laura was ready to sign up right there, tour or no tour. Bob seemed in less of a hurry. “Sure, we’d like to see what you have to offer,” he replied.

  Stepping from her office into the lobby, Dr. Crosby introduced them to a young girl who looked to be of college age. She was wearing a white uniform. “This is Samantha Peterson, one of our staff. She will take you around and show you the facilities. We have three different types of rooms. Will Harry be doing his own cooking?” Bob and Laura looked at each other with surprise and then shook their heads in unison.“No! It would be best to not let him near the stove,” Bob added.

  “No problem at all. Samantha will show you all threerooms anyway, so you can see the differences, plus she’ll explain the various levels of service we offer. As I told you, some elderly people need very little help, others need extensive assistance. We accommodate both ends of the spectrum and anything in between. You’re also welcome to have lunch with us in the dining room at noon. Afterwards, let me know what you think of our facility.” She shook their hands again warmly and departed to meet her next appointment, a young woman and elderly man, waiting outside her office.

  Samantha, though young, was professional and cordial. She had obviously given the tour many times. They started with the living quarters. The rooms appeared clean and well kept. Some had kitchens with two separate bedrooms, others just a single bedroom and bathroom. The dining room was impressive as well. Rather than long rows of rectangular tables strung together, there were round tables placed in groups, each with its own unique centerpiece.

  Next came the recreation rooms, all painted bright solid colors, each one named according to the color of the paint. The “red” room was the largest, with two televisions at each end. Three couches on coasters lined one side, ready to be swung into the middle of the room for easy television viewing. Two other couches were positioned in front of a TV at the far end. Three elderly women and a man sat enthralled watchingWheel of Fortune . “This room’s generally used for visiting and watching TV. We have video night on Mondays and Fridays. On Mondays the women choose what we watch, and we usually see love stories. On Fridays it’s the men’s turn, and they tend to select war movies.”

  Laura smiled at the thought.

  “Next door we have two smaller rooms, ‘green room one’ and ‘green room two.’ I have no idea why we have two green rooms—leftover paint, I imagine. These rooms hold our card tables and chairs. We’ve got some people here who can play a mean game of gin rummy.”

  “No poker?” Bob questioned jokingly.

  “Actually, they’ve been known to sneak in a hand of that as well. But don’t play against Mrs. Wellington, trust me on that one. She used to be a dealer in Vegas—she’ll have you sitting in your underwear in no time.”

  As they continued their stroll down the wide hall, the next room caused Laura’s heart to jump.

  “This is our puzzle room, and as you can see it’s called the . . .”

  “The gold room!” Laura finished. The room held six card tables, and stacks of jigsaw puzzles filled a shelf against the far wall. Two puzzles in progress covered two of the tables. Laura was ecstatic. “Can you believe it, Bob? They have a gold room!”

  “He likes gold?” Samantha inquired.

  “You have no idea,” Laura replied. “He’s going to sit in here and never come out.”

  If Bob was impressed, he tried not to let it show. He nodded and looked around, as if he spent every day touring similar establishments. After the gold room, they took a quick walk around the grounds outside before coming full circle back to the main lobby.

  “Would you like to join us for lunch?” Samantha asked as they reached the front entry.<
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  They looked at each other, trying to communicate silently. Bob spoke up.

  “We appreciate it, but there are a couple of other placeswe still need to see. Your facilities are very nice, though, and thank you so much for the impressive tour.”

  “No problem at all. I hope it’s been to your liking—oh, here comes Dr. Crosby now.”

  Laura could hardly contain her excitement. “Dr. Crosby, it’s absolutely wonderful. Bob and I need to discuss it, but we’re impressed with everything you’ve done here. Again, absolutely wonderful.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. If you want to bring Harry back, we’d love to show him around as well. The open house runs until six tonight.”

  Laura almost danced to the car. “Bob, it’s perfect. And they have a gold room.” She shook her head in disbelief.

  Bob rifled through the packet until he found the price sheet. He scanned it thoroughly. “Well, it should be nice, it’s two and a half times the price of the first one and twice the last, and that’s for the smallest room!”

  “It should be more. You saw the place—it’s not only nice, it’s perfect. I think we should go get Harry right now and bring him to see it.”

  “Laura, I’ve been sending Cara a check faithfully, but it’s starting to add up. This place is great, but it’s expensive. Should we sell Dad’s house to pay for it? He could live for ten more years.”

  Laura was disgusted that he showed so much concern for the money and so little regard for the welfare of his own father. Instead of having the conversation erode into another argument, she decided just to agree.“We probably should sell his house. After all, if he moves in here, nobody would be living there. It only makes sense. Let’s give him a couple of months though, just to make sure everything works out.”

  He was taken aback by her response. “Just like that?”

  “Bob, you saw the place.”

  What could he say now that she had concurred so readily? “Well, I guess we could go get Harry and show him around.”

  On the way back, Laura couldn’t stop talking about their find. “It was everything I’d hoped for and more. And Dr. Crosby was incredible.”

  “You did good, Laura. Harry’s going to love it,” Bob conceded.

  “I still don’t understand why you insist on calling him Harry.”

  “That’s his name. What am I supposed to call him?”

  “What’s wrong with ‘Dad’? Our whole married life, you’ve used his first name. Was it just to irk him, ’cause you two didn’t get along?”

  The question seemed to catch Bob off guard. After several seconds, he answered, “I guess Harry just seemed to fit better than Dad.” He winced as he said the word.

  “Was he really that bad?” Over eleven years of marriage, he’d always brushed off discussions about his relationship with his father. At best it was cordial, but never close. The first few years she questioned him about the problem, but as he hated discussing it, she seldom pursued it.

  To her surprise he continued, “I guess I never felt like he cared about us, Laura. He was always so distant. We could never seem to talk to him about anything.”

  “Was it always his fault?”

  “Why are we psychoanalyzing my relationship with Harry now?” he asked.

  “No big deal. I guess I was just curious.” She was willing to drop it. He kept talking.

  “If he’d been overly demanding, I think I could have handled it just fine. The problem, Laura, was he just didn’t give adamn. He didn’t care. I understand that he went through a lot with losing Mom so early. I realize it was traumatic for him, but he never seemed to understand that Michelle and I lost a mother as well. We had no mother, and yet we didn’t give up on the family.” His anger was apparent. “I got out as soon as I could. Anywhere was better than being around him.”

  “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry, Bob.” He didn’t reply.

  When they arrived at Harry’s, Cara’s car was nowhere in sight. She’d been practically living there of late, so Laura was surprised to find Harry alone. He sat contentedly at the kitchen table.

  Laura spoke first.“Harry, how are you?”

  “Fine.” He looked up, his gaze landing on Bob.

  “Hi, Harry.” Bob greeted.

  “Bob? What are you doing here?” He was ornery, but at least coherent.

  “I’m fine too, Harry,” Bob responded, ignoring the question and his tone.

  “I thought you moved to Sacramento?”

  “It’s San Diego, but at least you got the state right.”

  “Where’s Emily?” Harry asked. Laura was surprised at how alert he was today.

  “She’s at home. We have something we want to show you.”

  “Do I have to get up?”

  “Yes, we’re going in the car.” Bob moved to help him up, but Harry grabbed the table and stood by himself.

  “’Bout time somebody took me somewhere.” He shuffled across the room. “I have to go to the bathroom first.”

  “Take your time, Harry,” Laura replied.

  “He seems normal to me,” Bob responded, once Harry had shut the door.

  “This is the best I’ve seen him in weeks, Bob. It’s so nice to see him doing well.” Bob shrugged, not sure if the stories he’d been hearing had been exaggerated.

  After Harry had retrieved his jacket from the bedroom, Bob helped him into the car. “Glad you two are back together again. Downright stupid to be apart in the first place.” Laura smiled, but didn’t say a word, happy the old man was on her side.

  “We appreciate your help, but we can work out our own problems,” Bob added.

  During the drive they began to prepare him for the visit. “Seems to me that house is getting old,” Bob began.

  “I built it, you know. Did it myself. Didn’t draw the plan, but I built the rest.”

  “I know, you’ve mentioned that before. Those basement stairs can be dangerous if you’re not careful. It’d be awful if you slipped down them.”

  “Don’t hardly go down ’em at all. That black woman, though, she might fall down ’em. You should talk to her. So, where’s Emily?”

  “We left her with a sitter, Harry. I’ll bring her by next Friday,” Laura replied. He didn’t answer but seemed content with her response.

  Bob continued. “We found a really nice place we want you to look at. There are lots of friendly people living there. We thought you might want to check it out, see if you’d like it better than your house.”

  “I built my house, you know, with my own hands. ’Course, Arty helped me. He’s a carpenter, you know.”

  “Arty’s been dead for decades now, Harry.” Bob was getting impatient. Laura hadn’t seen Harry this talkative in weeks.

  “’Course he’s dead. I know that. We use to hunt together on weekends, up Black Fork canyon. Yep, Arty the carpenter. Couldn’t shoot worth a hill a beans, but he was good with a hammer. Helped me build it and all.”

  Reaching the center, they parked in a handicap stall near the entrance. Harry looked directly at the sign, reading “WestRidge Assisted Living Center” but didn’t seem to register its meaning. Mrs. Haddley had been replaced at the front door by a new greeter—an older gentleman, much less talkative than Mrs. Haddley, but still pleasant.

  “Do you want some punch and cookies, Harry?” Laura asked.

  “Whose birthday is it?” he questioned.

  “It’s not a birthday party. We wanted to bring you down and show you around,” she continued.

  “What is this place anyway?”

  “Isn’t it great? We thought you’d like it much better here than at your old house.” Her answer caught him off guard and he cocked his head toward her, not sure he’d understood.

  “You want me to live here? Move out of my house?”

  Bob answered next. “Exactly. It’s getting hard to take care of you there, and we thought you’d like it better here. They even have a room painted completely gold. You’d have your very
own apartment, all your own things.”

  Harry’s countenance turned dark.

  “What are you trying to do, steal my house? You’re trying to steal my house!”

  They were shocked by his reaction. “We don’t care about your house, Harry,” Bob replied. “We’re just trying to take care of you, get you into a better situation.”

  “You never visit, and when you do, you try and take what’s mine!”

  “Harry, we aren’t trying to take anything.”

  “You two-faced cheat, trying to steal the house I built with my own hands. You two-faced cheat!” He was raising his voice, causing the people in the lobby to stare.

  “Harry, you’re getting out of control here. We just thought you’d like this place better. They have people who can take good care of you here.”

  “I can take care of myself,” he shouted. “I don’t need help from you, you lying cheat!”

  Hearing the commotion, Dr. Crosby came out of her office and headed in their direction to assist. She motioned to two assistants for help.

  Laura spoke next, trying to calm him down. “Harry, we just want what’s best for you, honestly. We thought you’d like it here, but if you don’t, that’s fine. You don’t have to stay.”

  At this point, he wasn’t listening or he didn’t understand. “You all want me dead. You want me to die here, so you can take my house.” He turned to face Bob. “You’re just a good for nothing son!”

  “Harry, my name is Dr. Shanon Crosby,” she interrupted. “I run the center. I understand how you feel.”

  “I’m getting outta here, before you all try to kill me!” He was about to run when Bob reached out and grabbed on to his pants to keep him from leaving. As he did, Harry turned toward him trying to swing his fists. “I’ll kill you, you dirty crook, you dirty lying crook.” The two assistants, who had come to help, reached out to restrain him. They seemed unfazed by the outburst and helped carry Harry over to a chair where they forced him to sit. As they did, he began to struggle wildly, crying in a high-pitched voice.

  “Kathryn, they’re killing me! Put me down! Thieves!” They held on to him firmly as he continued to squirm. Laura started to cry. Dr. Crosby reached out and took her by the hand.