Ever since Derrick had tried to swindle him out of money a few months before, Red hadn’t been the same. His moods shifted faster than the autumn weather, and she walked on eggshells around him. Sometimes, he was the happy-go-lucky guy she’d first met. Other times, he seemed so depressed she worried for his health. Still other times, he was angry, lashing out at her and anyone else within earshot.
She missed the sweet old man he’d once been. But she understood. Broken hearts were painful.
She’d thought he was getting better, but the grouch was back. “We have to go.” Harper stood by Red’s recliner, arms crossed.
“Don’t feel like it.”
She took a deep breath to silence her initial reaction. “As you’ve made perfectly clear, Red, but you’re going to the doctor.”
He ignored her, his gaze on the TV.
Today was his check-up, and he wasn’t missing it. “Come on.” She leaned toward the lever that would lower his footrest. “I’ll help you—”
He swatted her arm away. “Don’t need your help.” He glared at her, then focused on the TV again.
Usually, when he got like this, she let him have his way. But not today.
“Listen, old man.”
The anger dropped from his expression, replaced by surprise.
“You’re going to the doctor on your own, or I’ll call 911 and have them come after you.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
He harrumphed, glared, and finally lowered the footrest of his recliner. “Fine. But you can’t make me talk to him.”
Stubborn old coot. She grabbed his jacket—the October chill had settled deep—and helped him to the car.
An hour later, a nurse escorted Red back to the doctor’s office. Harper had already updated the nurse on how he’d been feeling—and behaving—so Red’s refusal to talk to them shouldn’t make a difference. And they’d fill Harper in. Red had made her his health care agent when she’d started working for him. He’d ensured she’d have full access to all his medical information so she could learn what the doctors discovered whether Red was in the mood to tell her or not.
Amazing what a difference a few months had made. Back in Vegas, she hadn’t been trusted to do anything but feed the residents and clean up after them. Here, she’d been given the right to make medical decisions. She’d proved herself to Red and, even though she barely spoke to him anymore, to Derrick. She hadn’t gone back to school, hadn’t achieved any real level of success, but maybe if her parents heard what she had achieved, they’d accept her again. Maybe if she told them where she was and what she was doing, they’d be proud of her. Or, if not proud, less ashamed. She considered dialing her mother that moment, but now wasn’t the time. No, she needed to think about it some more. Being estranged from her parents was awful. A second rejection might destroy her.
Her cell vibrated, and she pulled it out and glanced at the screen. She had two missed calls and three texts from Derrick. She ignored them, as usual. He’d been trying to reconcile with her ever since he’d left her on the front stoop that stormy Saturday morning. At first, she’d been firm but kind. Now, she didn’t bother to respond. They spoke sometimes about his grandfather’s health. But Derrick hadn’t been to visit him once since that terrible morning, despite that fact that she’d told Derrick about the mood swings and how she believed they were a direct result of Derrick not visiting.
Was he still angry at Red for not giving him the money? Was this some sort of manipulation technique? Did he think that if he withheld his love long enough, Red would give in? Or was he too busy trying to dig himself out of trouble—or maybe gambling himself into more debt—to bother with Red? She had no idea what was going on in Derrick’s life and wouldn’t care if his absence hadn’t been such a blow to Red.
It was thirty minutes before a nurse called Harper back and into an empty exam room. “He seems as healthy as he can be at his age.”
“But what about his moods?”
The woman shrugged. “He didn’t complain of depression or mood shifts. He said he’s fine.”
Harper sighed. “He’s just different than he used to be. More forgetful. What could cause that?”
“Old age affects everyone differently. The forgetfulness—that could be signs of dementia, but we saw nothing to suggest that today. He was a bit crankier than usual.”
He was definitely that.
By the time she returned to the waiting room, Red was there, seated in a chair, arms crossed. He looked exhausted.
All this effort and no diagnosis. Poor man. She hoped this wasn’t his age catching up with him. Prayed he wasn’t deteriorating. She couldn’t lose him. Red was the closest thing to family she’d had in years. She wasn’t sure she’d survive without him.