“Yes. Of course. The doctor has done a wide array of tests and assured me there was no need to get overly worried.”
“What sort of tests did they do?”
“Problem-solving tests, language skills—speech and comprehension, that sort of thing.”
Mom quickly busied herself with searching through the cupboards for a mug. She’d never liked talking about anything that caused her grief. Nobody did, but sometimes it was important to talk about uncomfortable things, especially if you wanted to move forward.
“Do you want tea, dear?”
“No thanks.” Nora waited until Mom had put a tea bag in the mug and had nothing left to do but wait for the water to boil. “So, what does Dad think about these tests? Does he ever get a clear head and realize he’s retired? Does he talk about what’s happening?”
“He’s aware . . . and frustrated by the changes taking place, especially when he can’t remember an event or when I ask him to make a decision.” Mom’s eyes watered. “He doesn’t like when he can’t process what someone has told him.”
“How often does he forget things, Mom? Once . . . twice, three times a day?”
“At least.” She was fiddling with her wedding band. “I didn’t want to say anything. I kept hoping he would improve, but you’re right. He’s gotten worse.”
Nora’s stomach felt as if she’d swallowed a brick that was now floating slowly to the bottom of her gut. Before she could say another word, the front door came open, and Trevor appeared with Tank and a young girl at his side. “There you are,” Nora said. “I was wondering where you’ve been.” Her heart filled with hope. She smiled at the young girl, excited to see that Trevor had possibly made a new friend. “Hello. I’m Nora. Trevor’s mom.”
“Gillian Chatham,” she replied.
“Are you Rosemary Chatham’s daughter from across the lake?” Nora’s mom asked.
“I am.”
“How’s your mom doing? I haven’t seen her in eons.”
“She’s fine.”
“Her mom thinks this house is haunted,” Trevor said.
Grandma chuckled. “If there are ghosts, they are friendly ones.”
Trevor did not look amused. Considering his long list of fears, he was probably thinking that the dark was scary enough without some hazy apparition floating around staring at him or, worse, asking for help.
“Want to meet my grandpa?” Trevor asked Gillian.
“Sure.”
Tank followed them through the kitchen and out the door to the deck overlooking the lake.
Nora’s mom lifted an eyebrow. “Looks like Trevor has found a new friend.”
“Speaking of friends,” Nora said, “Hailey has a new friend, too, and I’m not sure how I feel about him.”
“Is it the boy you talked about before?” She pursed her lips and tried to think.
“No. It’s not Josh. Funny enough, I wish it was.”
“Why is that?”
“This guy is seventeen going on twenty-seven. How many seventeen-year-olds do you know with facial hair?”
“I think that’s fairly common.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
Mom covered a small laugh with her hand.
“What are you laughing about?”
“It’s not easy raising teenagers,” Mom said with a knowing twinkle in her eye. “She’ll be sixteen soon. Just keep the dialogue open and you’ll be fine.”
Nora wasn’t so sure. Hailey was growing fast, changing faster. With the pressure of a new job, Nora wasn’t sure she could keep up.
“Are you doing anything special for Hailey’s birthday next month?”
“I haven’t had time to think about it.” Nora thought about Paris and how David kept telling her she should go. A strong desire to change the subject came over her. “So what’s the deal with the house being haunted? Has that always been a thing?”
“Oh, yeah,” Mom said. “Not just this house. The whole town. Whispering Pines isn’t called Whispering Pines for nothing.”
Nora chuckled at that. “When I was living here, I never once heard anything about ghosts.”
“You were only here for a year before you left for college, met David, and never returned.”
“You make it all sound so dramatic.”
“Just speaking the truth,” Mom said.
“I am sorry I haven’t been here much. If Dad keeps getting worse, you might need to get some help.”
“We’ll be fine. If it gets to the point where he can’t get up and down the stairs easily enough, we’ll move into the cottage.”
“Really? The cottage?” Nora loved the cottage. It was only a five-minute walk from here. Ten minutes, tops. Although it wasn’t set on a bluff like the house, it was on the water. Lots of windows, which meant a lot of natural light. But it was small. One bedroom, one bathroom, a tiny kitchen, and a living area.
Mom picked up her mug and took a sip. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Trevor’s new friend.”
“What about Dad’s tea?”
“Sure, bring it along. He doesn’t really like tea. I use it to distract him when he thinks he should be running off to the store, or work, or to visit his mom.”
“He thinks his mom is still alive?”
“Sometimes he thinks I am his mom.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Wednesday morning, Nora was in the bathroom getting ready for work. She finished applying her lipstick, then pressed her lips together and looked in the mirror, where she could see David near the bed slipping into a newly ironed button-up shirt. “You’re not working from home today?”
“I have a meeting with a client.” He glanced at his watch. “In exactly forty-five minutes.”
She walked out of the bathroom and gave him a good, long look from head to toe. “How do you do it?”
He lifted a questioning brow. “Do what?”
“Grow younger by the minute? You don’t look a day over thirty-five. It’s not fair.”
“Stop.” He grabbed his jacket from the bed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll have to cancel my meeting.” He winked.
She laughed, then followed him out the bedroom door and down the hall, when she remembered something she’d meant to tell him. “I’ve decided to go to Paris.”
“Good for you.”
“I guess. Just the thought of being away makes me miss you.” It made Nora proud to think that she had a deeper level of appreciation for David after seventeen years together. “We’ve hardly been apart since we married.”
“And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”
“Clever man . . . throwing words from a prophet at me like that.” They were the same words she’d said to him the first time he had to leave on business for a few days only months after they were married.
“Do you remember those early days? I didn’t want to leave, but you told me it was healthy for our relationship—a chance for us to reenergize and revitalize.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead. “You were right. Next week, you’re going to Paris, and you’re going to savor every moment while you’re there.”