Unforgettable. Linda Goodnight

      “I know, honey,” Frannie said, patting her shoulder. “At least I know today. I may forget in ten minutes but I know right now. Someday I’ll be able to hide my own Easter eggs.”

      “Stop it! Stop joking about this. There is nothing funny about Alzheimer’s disease.”

      Expression mild, Frannie answered, “No, there isn’t, but this is my new reality. I can face it with a smile or a frown, but I have to face it. The Lord has always taken care of us, Carrie. We have to trust that He’s in this, too.”

      Yeah, well, if He was in this thing, Carrie would like to know where. How could Mother go on blithely trusting a God who was letting her down in the worst possible way? If He cared at all, He could stop this awful thing from happening to a woman who had served Him all the days of her life. If He cared.

      Carrie shoved away from the table and stalked to the kitchen sink to yank the drain plug.

      Frannie followed her, heeled slides tip-tapping on the tile. “I told Dr. Morrison to put me on the list for trials and drugs tests and anything experimental.”

      “Oh, like that’s going to cheer me up.”

      Swishing the pink sweaters up and down while running a blast of cold rinse water, Carrie had a vision of her mother with probes and electrodes poking from her head like Frankenstein. Knowing Frannie, she’d probably wear the conglomeration like a hat and march down the street in the Independence Day Parade.

      “If I have to have this silly forgetting disease, I want somebody to get some good out of it. If not me, someone else. God can take this bad thing and bring something good from it the way He always does. Besides, I like the idea of being a pioneer,” she said, cheerfully. “Just think, Carrie, if they could find a cure through me. Wouldn’t that be magnificent?”

      Magnificent would be if Mother didn’t have this disease in the first place.

      “Would you hand me that towel over there?” And stop talking about this. “I want to get these sweaters laid out to dry before Lexi comes home from school.”

      The front door banged opened. “Mom!”

      “Too late.” Frannie smiled, handing over the thick, terry towel. “Our girl is home.” Cupping her hands around her mouth like parentheses, she called, “In here, rosebud.”

      Dropping books and a one-strap backpack as she came, Lexi rounded the bar. “Hi, Grannie Frannie.”

      Frannie produced a cheek for smooching, and Carrie did the same. Lexi looped her arms around Carrie’s shoulders for a hug, her slim-as-a-rail body pressed into her mother’s back. She smelled of Sea Island Cotton by Bath & Body Works along with freshly applied strawberry lip gloss and that special scent found only in public schools. Her sleek brown hair, lightened like a halo around her angelic face, brushed softly against Carrie’s cheek.

      For the first time all afternoon, Carrie’s mood lifted. Dear Lord, she loved this child. While other mothers bemoaned their teenagers, Carrie felt almost smug about her close-to-perfect daughter. She was good at mothering, a fact that still caused a yearning for the children she’d never had.

      “Do you have softball practice today?” Frannie asked.

      Lexi smooched Carrie’s cheek again and straightened. “Yes. Want to take me out for pizza first?”

      Mother’s baseball cap bobbed. “Sounds like fun.”

      Carrie tensed. Given this afternoon’s talk, the idea of her mother venturing off with her only child was not welcome. Yes, they’d run around together for years like two best friends, but things were different now.

      Lexi opened the fridge, took out a carrot and crunched. “Is it okay if we pick up Courtney?”

      “You bet. Tell her to bring that bong-bong CD.”

      Carrie turned from the sink, hands dripping. “Bong-bong?”

      Lexi’s shoulders hunched into giggle. “That’s what Grannie Frannie calls hip-hop.”

      “Ah.”

      “Go change clothes and get your gear.” Mother’s hands made a shooing motion. “I’m raring to go.”

      “You’re the best granny ever.” After a final, quick hug, Lexi started out of the kitchen, half-eaten carrot in hand. “Wait’ll you see my new batting gloves, Grannie Frannie. They’re so cool. Hot pink and purple. Courtney has the same ones.”

      Carrie waited until Lexi was out of hearing range. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea.”

      Mother, still smiling in Lexi’s direction, slowly turned to face Carrie. “Why not?”

      Carrie clutched the wet towel in her hands like a life preserver. “Did the doctor say you could continue to drive?”

      “Of course. He said I’d know when to stop.”

      That wasn’t too reassuring. “What if you have another lapse?”

      Mother’s smile dwindled away. “Carrie, I’ve driven all over the county since the diagnosis. No problems at all. Besides, Lexi will be with me.”

      That’s what worried her. She bit her bottom lip in an effort to keep her mouth shut.

      But Mother knew her too well. “I’d never do anything to endanger our girl.”

      “Not intentionally.”

      “All right, I hear that tone of voice. You don’t want her to ride with me, do you?”

      Feeling small, Carrie nodded. “I’m sorry, Mother. I’d rather she didn’t.”

      She should have expected the hurt on her mother’s face, but the look of betrayal hit her hard.

      Frannie’s mouth sagged, then tightened with decision. “I’ll go talk to her.”

      As she watched her mother leave the kitchen with less than the usual zip in her step, Carrie felt like the worst daughter on earth. But what else could she do? She had to protect her only child.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      “Lord, I’m worried about Carrie.”

      Fran knelt beside her bed. Her tomcat, Tux, lay curled on the pillow above her head, listening with sleepy-eyed disinterest. She’d been here more than usual lately and God always met her, His sweet spirit pouring strength and love into her often frightened being.

      For the last thirty minutes, she’d prayed for Ken. He hadn’t called, hadn’t come by. So she prayed not to be hurt or angry, prayed for understanding. Understanding had finally come when the Lord brought to mind Emily Markovich and her ravaging cancer. For three years Ken had helplessly watched disease eat away at his wife. No man deserved to go through that twice. Though sad to lose his love and friendship, Fran accepted that he simply could not face such an uncertain future.

      Now she’d turned her thoughts to her family, particularly Carrie.

      “She’s having such a hard time with this little problem of mine. Lord, my fondest wish has always been to see her full of Your joy and living in Your extravagant love and grace. But she’s unhappy, angry even, and I fear she’s angry with You. Forgive her, Jesus, and help her. Somehow I’ve failed her. Failed to be the example I should have been. Failed to show her that Your grace is everywhere if she’ll only look. Forgive me, Lord Jesus, forgive me, and teach me how to help her before it’s too late, before my mind is gone and I’m no good to anyone.”