Chapter Twenty-Five

“Are we saving cassette tapes?” Bob yelled to Libby from the cardboard box igloo he had constructed in the cottage bedroom. “What in God’s name possessed me to buy Steel Drum Hits of the Islands?”

Libby returned a yell from the kitchen. “Rum. It was our honeymoon. Toss cassettes and anything 1980s; it’s an era better left in the past. Keep pictures. And bonus points for shots of Kevin with the mullet, he’s ticking me off, and I may use it for our Christmas card.”

“You’re such a loving sister. Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Bob left the bedroom and joined Libby in the kitchen. “Besides pictures, is there anything you absolutely want to keep?”

“I trust your judgment. If I didn’t know it was out here, I won’t miss it. Caroline will supervise the Testosterone Crew for me later. If it were up to Sean and Kevin, we’d bulldoze the place’s entire contents into the dumpster.”

Bob looked around the room and scratched his head. “It may come to that.”

The sound of a diesel motor pulled them outside. Behind the wheel of Mae Day’s container truck, Sean maneuvered into the open space nearest the cottage.

Kevin jumped out of the cab and rolled open the truck’s rear door. “Let’s move some shit!” he said, and clapped with enthusiasm.

“You’re chipper today, baby brother.”

Sean rounded the truck. “There are two reasons for that,” he said. “One, he’s a girly man and sits at a desk all day. The last time he did manual labor, it involved a birdhouse and scout camp. And two, Saratoga is officially six weeks old, thus granting him sexual visitation rights with his wife.”

“TMI! TMI!” Bob shouted. “What is it with this family? First Mae revisits her colonoscopy over appetizers at Thanksgiving, and now this.” His mock expression of horror brought laughter from the others. “I don’t know why I put up with this inappropriate behavior. You people disgust me.”

Entering with trays of steaming coffee cups, Caroline asked, “Why do they disgust you today?”

“Hey there! Didn’t hear you arrive,” Libby said, and accepted a cup. “God bless you!”

“Thought we may need it,” She passed the remaining cups around to the men. “I parked out front. Now back to why Bob thinks you are all disgusting, not that I disagree. It’s just nice to have another supporter once in a while.”

“Saratoga is six weeks old.” Libby explained with a wink.

Instantly grasping the meaning of her friend’s comment, Caroline spun around to Kevin. “Congratulations Kev. Back on the horse, huh?”

“About damned time, too,” Kevin agreed. “But enough about my manly ways, we need to get cracking. If Mom warms up to the idea today, this place is going to have to look better than it does right now.”

“For once we agree on something,” Sean said to his brother. “Lib, you should get going. We’ll get the big stuff onto the truck first. After that the junk will be easier to get into the dumpster, and we can get some sort of system going.”

“No worries,” Caroline said to Libby. “Go deal with Mae and I’ll keep things on schedule here. You know cleaning gets me hot. Let me enjoy it.”

“If that’s the case, you need some serious time in Sean’s bathroom.” Libby laughed.

“Are you making fun of my housekeeping skills, sister dear?” Sean smiled in spite of himself.

“What housekeeping skills?” Libby teased. “Hey, there’s the perfect answer to both your frustration problems. The next time Sean goes out with one of his harem, Caroline can go to his place and scrub the toilets. Bleach for one, loose women for the other. Everybody wins, right?”

Caroline’s grin did not quite reach full strength. “Always thinking of my needs, Lib.”

“I try. Okay, I’m out of here. Keep an eye on the men, and if I’m not back by three o’clock, call your friend, Officer Yummy, and put out a missing person’s report. Mom loves to visit the Community Garden by the bank, that’s most likely where she’ll stash my body.”

After a quick kiss for Bob, Libby snatched her purse from on top of one of the boxes and started out.

The four remaining family members divided the chores. Bob and Kevin tackled the bedroom, dragging out the mismatched chairs and miscellaneous furniture Libby labeled for the shelter.

Sean moved a few of the larger boxes off an old recliner in the living room and lifted the chair out the front door.

Caroline noticed him struggling and stopped boxing up old cups and glasses to help. “Hold on, Captain Muscles,” Caroline teased. “I’ll hold the door for you.”

“Thanks.” Sean lugged the chair up the ramp into the truck. “That thing is a beast,” he said, and returned down the ramp. “I don’t remember seeing it before.”

“It belonged to my dad,” Caroline explained. “Lib let me keep it here, but I have absolutely no use for it now.”

“Ah, free storage, always a good plan.” He stopped alongside her at the front door and flashed a devious smile. “Cleaning, huh?”

Caroline blushed. “Don’t mock my foreplay, McGinn.”

“No judgment here, just reminded me of something I need to do.”

“And what would that be?”

“Pick up bleach. My bathroom is very, very dirty.”

Laughing to himself, Sean went into the house as Caroline stared in disbelief.

Was he flirting? she wondered. And why am I sweating?

****

“Look at that altar server,” Mae whispered in Libby’s ear. “He’s wearing sneakers! Can you believe that?”

“Mom, be quiet, people can hear you.” Libby answered.

“Sneakers...on the altar...that’s disrespectful. You don’t see Fr. Rodriguez in flip flops, do you?”

“I’m sure the kid’s going to hell. Now zip it and let me pray.” Patience, Libby thought, pray for patience.

After services, the Old Mill’s perky blonde host seated them in a booth overlooking the tumbling waterfall.

“What are you grinning at Lib?” Mae asked.

“Memories.” Libby answered. The sights and smells of the restaurant took her back to childhood, and the special lunches she and Mae shared after back-to-school shopping. Shoes, Libby had discovered, were the only true way to express yourself in Catholic school; the starchy gray uniforms sucked the individuality right out of you. “Remember when we came here after our annual back-to-school shopping trips?”

“My, that takes me back,” Mae said with a wistful glow. “You were easy to find shoes for, but the boys were a nightmare. Once puberty hit I gave up and made your father take them. I swear the odor from those feet could kill a buffalo.”

She put on her glasses and picked up the menu. “So, what shall we order?” Mae’s segue from smelly feet to scrambled eggs was well-timed as the waiter came to take their order. Within minutes, piping hot broccoli and cheese omelets and fresh raisin bread toast were set on the table with a carafe of dark roast coffee.

“This cheese is bad for my cholesterol, but sometimes you have to splurge.” Mae savored the first bite with pure joy. “How’s yours?”

“It’s worth every minute in treadmill purgatory,” Libby said. Between sips of coffee, she plotted her next move. “Do you still want to go to the mall after we’re done here?”

“Actually, since it’s a little warmer out today, I thought you could take me over to visit Daddy. I haven’t been to the cemetery in a few weeks, and I want to make sure that strange little groundskeeper is keeping up with the weeds.”

Mouth full of toast, Mae remembered the legal paperwork in her purse and bent to retrieve it. “Mike dropped these by yesterday. Bob can look them over whenever he gets a free minute, no rush. I’m not planning on going belly-up anytime soon.”

“Nice image, Mom.” Libby placed the paperwork into her bag and pulled out her credit card. She signaled the waiter. “I’m picking up the check, no arguments.”

“Why do you assume I’ll argue?” Mae said.

“Are you serious? The last time I tried to take you out to dinner you acted like letting me pay was a criminal offense.”

“I’ve learned to be pampered. All the daytime talk shows say I am entitled.”

“Well, we all know daytime talk is law.”

****

Saint Luke’s Cemetery sat on a sloping hill overlooking the glistening shoreline’s tranquil landscape. Contrary to Mae’s opinion, it was meticulously maintained. Bernie’s gravesite was at the highest point, a secluded spot surrounded by maple trees and perennial flowers.

“Hello sweetheart,” Mae spoke softly to the headstone and stroked the smooth marble surface with the palm of her hand. Inconsolable at the time of her husband’s death, Mae entrusted Kevin and Sean to select the marker. Engraved with Bernie’s date of birth and death, the bottom of the stone was etched with a replica of Yankees Stadium—a final gift from the McGinn boys to their dad.

“We should have picked up a wreath on the way over,” Libby said.

Mae shook her head and said, “Pine needles make Daddy itchy.”

Libby refrained from pointing out the obvious. “Do you want me to leave you alone for a few minutes so you can talk to Daddy in private?”

“No, stay and visit.” Mae brushed a leaf from the stone. “I have long talks with your father every day. He listens much better now than before.”

“I bet he does,” Libby chuckled. “Listening was never one of Daddy’s strong points.”

The women stood in silence at the peaceful site, the only sound the distant crashing surf. A cool breeze blew off the ocean as the few remaining autumn leaves crossed the ground at their feet.

Libby felt the weight of the coming conversation bear down on her shoulders like a lead blanket and struggled to find the right words.

“It’s all right, Libby,” Mae said, interrupting her thoughts. “Say what you need to. We’re here for a reason. We both know it.”

Shocked by her mother’s perception, Libby stared at Mae.

The older woman’s eyes were moist but holding back. She continued. “Spit it out, honey. I won’t have a public tantrum. It’s obvious you have something important to talk to me about, and I think you’ve delayed long enough.”

Libby’s shoulders slumped. “How’d you know?”

“Well, let’s examine the facts...” Mae grinned despite the gravity of the moment. “You took me to church, plied me with brunch, and now you’re standing there biting your bottom lip raw. Daddy used to call that your tell. We always knew something was wrong if your bottom lip looked like it had a run-in with a cheese grater.”

“Huh?” Libby ran her tongue over her bottom lip. “I never noticed.”

“In your teens, we were pretty sure you were going to bite clean through it,” Mae joked. “At least your nervous habit isn’t offensive; whenever Kevin lies, he grabs his testicles. Since the day he was born that boy treated his penis like an accessory. It’s terribly inappropriate, especially at parties.”

“And there’s an image I’ll never shake.” Libby shivered. “Dare I ask about the perfect son, does Sean have a tell?”

“Sean was the hardest one to spot,” Mae explained. “He’s always grabbing at his hair; pushing it out of his eyes and such, especially when he’s under stress or wrestling with some type of big decision.” Libby knew exactly what Mae described; she had seen her brother do it thousands of times. “But here’s the trick with Sean, he’s right-handed, and when he’s fibbing, he still pulls at his hair, but with his left hand. It is the oddest thing. “

“That is strange,” Libby said in amazement. “I never noticed that before. Makes me want to play poker with him soon.”

“The three of you don’t even have to open your mouths; I can tell something’s wrong just by looking. Your bottom lip’s raw, Kevin’s a sexual deviant, and Sean becomes a lefty; simple.”

Mae took a deep breath and continued, “In the last week Kevin has stopped by twice to visit, adjusting his privates the entire time. Sean came by after work last night, and might as well have given himself a home permanent with his left hand, and now you, Elizabeth...stop biting that lip, it looks like hamburger. Tell me what’s going on.”

Be honest, be gentle, be ready to take cover, Libby thought. “We’re worried about your living alone, Mom,” she said. “None of us—Sean, Kevin, or me—wants to rip your independence out from under you like a cheap throw rug, but after the fire...”

“I burned a pot Libby, not a city block.”

“You burned an entire room to ashes.” Libby stood firm and went on. “But that’s a small piece of the big picture. Please don’t lump yourself in the same category as Gram—we don’t—and I know what happened to her terrifies you. Remember, you take much better care of yourself. And even if it is the same disease, Dr. Rashan insists your case is dramatically different.”

Mae nodded, but said nothing as Libby continued. “There’s no easy way to say this, Mom; Sean, Kevin, and I feel it would be best if you had more help around—so nothing like the fire happens again.”

“You mean like a visiting aide or something?” Mae asked.

“We have something better in mind,” Libby said.

“I am not, under any circumstances, ready for a nursing home, Elizabeth.” Mae’s tone hardened as she went on. “Do not insult me or my capabilities by suggesting that.”

Proceed with caution. “We’re, not suggesting that Mom,” Libby said. “And for the record, I plan on smothering you well before nursing home time.”

“Tone, Elizabeth.”

“Fine, but you are going to hear me out on this. We had an idea—all of us, Bob and Suzanne included.”

Mae’s eyes rolled as Libby’s lecture went into overdrive. “Do not roll your eyes at me.” Head slap. “Crap, now I sound just like you. Next I’ll be asking you if you need to ‘make pee’ before we get in the car!”

Mae held off a grin as Libby went on. “The point is, Mom, the condo won’t work. You are in no way nursing home material, but there’s a strong chance one of us will go on trial for murder if you move in with any of us. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Mae said. Regrettably she had reached the same conclusion weeks before. “And you three masterminds devised a workable solution?”

“I think so,” Libby said. “It was Bob’s idea.”

“I like it already; he’s the sensible one in the lot of you.”

“Nice to know you think so highly of him. Me—your own flesh and blood—not so much. But it’s good to know I married into respectability.”

Mae giggled as Libby pressed on. “Here’s the deal...for years Bob and I talked about renovating the cottage. Shannon wants it for her bedroom, but there is no way that’s going to happen. Structurally, Sean says it is in great shape. It needs cosmetics—plus heat, AC, and some new insulation—but he thinks he can convert it into a private apartment. Mae Day is slow this time of the year, so he could start immediately. As we speak, Sean, Bob, Kev, and Caroline are over there cleaning it out, top to bottom, in hopes you will come back with me, take a look, and see the potential.”

Heavy stillness settled over them. Libby was unsure whether to say more or run for shelter.

Mae’s voice was barely a whisper. “May I speak now?”

“Of course.”

“Are you saying—my children, the three I birthed and the three I consider equally my own—would like to build me a home I can live in with a sense of privacy, and still be close enough to ask for help if I need it?”

Mae’s Wedgewood blues dampened. “I think—no, I know—I would like that very much.”

“Really?” Libby beamed. “Don’t you want to fight me just a little? I came prepared with a list of arguments—I feel cheated.”

Mae laughed and linked arms with Libby. “I do want to fight, sweetheart, but not with you. I want to grab this disease by the throat and strangle the life out of it, but I’ve come to a point in my life where I know time is a gift, and anger will only squander it. Instead, I’ve decided to squeeze every bit of joy out of life and focus on the time I’m blessed to have, not the time I may lose.”

Mae continued, “I watched my mother disappear. I saw her mind slip away faster than her body. If fate has the same in store for me, no matter how long the trip takes, I’m going to hold on and enjoy each and every minute for as long as I’m given. I’m scared...but of nothing physical. I’m afraid to lose moments—not the big ones, weddings, graduations—it’s the small, insignificant moments that change a life. Those are what I’ll miss most, the little glimpses of my life I’ve never shared.”

“Tell me one.” Libby squeezed her mother’s arm tight. “Tell me, and I’ll remember every detail and tell you the story over and over.”

A genial smile crossed Mae’s lips. “The day I met Daddy, that’s a favorite.”

Libby’s heart melted as Mae reminisced. “Bernie was an absolute mess when he walked in. He was just off a job site, filthy with cement dust and mud. He was the new guy on the job, so he got the dirty work. God, he smelled awful. Nevertheless, there was something about him—confidence that pulled me toward him—and when he asked me to dinner, I didn’t hesitate for a second. I looked right past the dirt and body odor and fell in love with him, stink and all.”

“Daddy always said you were the princess that married the ditch digger.”

“He treated me like a princess. Even in our worst times he made me feel like I was the luckiest woman in the world.”

Mae looked out to the ocean, her expression melancholy. “Some of the sad times broke my heart to the point that I wasn’t sure I could recover. And as strange as it sounds—like the day I met your father—I’m afraid of losing those moments, too.”

“Why? Forgive me if this sounds insensitive Mom, but I would imagine one of the few upsides of dementia is losing painful memories.”

“Those memories make you who you are; they are the stones you build life’s foundation on. The good memories, too, but the bad ones test everything else. They show you how much you can handle and still find happiness. Don’t get me wrong, there are a few memories I’d like to forget. But the big ones...those I want to hold onto for as long as I can.”

“I understand; you take the good with the bad. Let’s take this a step at a time, starting with where you can live and feel comfortable.”

Libby shivered and rubbed her hands together. “It’s getting cold. Are you up to coming over to the house for a peek at the cottage? Remember, nothing happens until you say so.”

“I’d love to,” Mae said. “Go warm up the car. I need a minute to say goodbye to Daddy.”

Libby kissed her cheek and left.

Mae turned to the grave marker. “Did you hear that, sweetheart? The kids have it all worked out. You don’t need to worry about me, I’ll be fine. Of course, if you want to send down a little patience, I won’t turn it away. You know my temper.” She smiled and ran a hand across the top of the stone. “We did well, Bernie. Very, very well.”