Rain poured as if the sky had unzipped to empty the clouds all at once. Lightning lit the gloom. Archie flinched at a crack of thunder.

He pulled the last cookie sheet out of the oven and started transferring cookies to the cooling rack. The enticing aroma didn’t touch his senses, and the warmth didn’t soothe his nerves.

His mind floated in a storm cloud too. It rained frustration and fear. Like bolts of lightning, a question bounced through his thoughts over and over again.

Why did I fail?

His efforts hadn’t been a total bust. During their fantasy, Archie had been able to redirect Grandpa into the garage and away from the utility shed. By the time it fell to pieces, Grandpa had forgotten about mowing the lawn.

But the real Raymond Reese hadn’t come back. He was still lost inside Grandpa’s head, contending with an enemy that grew stronger by the day. Alzheimer’s was a real jerk.

Archie had theories but no way to know if they were right. The fantasy hadn’t included details from the Journal, and he hadn’t had time to craft a good story. He had also tried it when Grandpa had already fully lost touch with himself and his surroundings, while before he’d been able to catch him at the beginning of the downward slide.

Then there was the hero element. Grandpa had spent so many years protecting people. With this fantasy, though, they were only defending themselves. No clear goals, evil plots to foil, or people to help.

Then the rage had returned. Just a short burst, and Grandpa had managed to regain control quickly. The doctors had warned them it would happen more often. As Grandpa’s mind deteriorated, he’d have to grapple with the frustration of not being able to remember things, the infuriating tip-of-your-tongue feeling of knowing something was missing but not being able to pinpoint what.

And as good memories faded, they left more room for bad ones to resurface. Grandpa still wouldn’t talk about them, but sometimes Archie could see them eating away at him from the inside. What could have happened in Grandpa’s past that was so bad?

Any of these could be the reason the fantasy had failed. Or all of them. Or none of them.

Archie clenched his jaw, desperate determination welling up inside. He would throw himself deeper into stories. He would memorize every line of that Journal. He would hold back the disease like a dam, keeping Grandpa as the man he knew for as long as possible.

The doorbell rang. Archie’s heart leapt into his throat. Was Desta here early?

He approached the front door, working to breathe steadily. Shoulders back, he plastered on a smile and opened the door.

His face fell. “Oh, hey. What are you doing here?”

“Great to see you too,” Uncle Dan said. “Would you feel better if I said I brought pizza?”

Archie looked at his uncle’s hands. Except for an umbrella, they were empty.

“Did you?”

“No, but that would’ve been awesome, right?”

Archie laughed. Uncle Dan had that effect on people.

A throat cleared, and Aunt Candace peeked around from behind her husband. “Daniel, it’s raining.”

“Yes, my love.” Uncle Dan glanced up at the umbrella sheltering them both. “If only humanity had invented a device to deal with that kind of thing.”

Aunt Candace rolled her eyes, but Archie caught a hint of a smile. “Archibald, let us in,” she said.

As they stepped inside, Aunt Candace turned and looked back at the driveway. Instantly her expression turned stern again.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Get in here.”

“I’m communing with nature!” Aunt Violet said.

Standing without an umbrella, she held her arms out wide, her face tilted up toward the storm.

“If you commune with lightning, that’ll be a quick conversation,” Uncle Dan said.

“You city types never understand,” Aunt Violet chided. “All you know is your offices and your lattes and your—”

A crack of thunder shook the air. Aunt Violet yelped and sprinted toward the house. When she made it inside, they were all struggling not to laugh.

“Whew!” Aunt Violet shook herself like a wet dog. “She’s in a bad mood today.”

“She?” Archie asked.

“Nature, silly,” she replied, ruffling his hair.

“You didn’t even need to come,” Aunt Candace said.

Aunt Violet frowned. “Penny asked for my help.”

“That was a group text. She asked for anyone’s help, and we said we would come.”

“And so did I.” Aunt Violet raised her chin in defiance. “You just don’t think I can take care of Dad, but I’m the one who taught him how to do this.”

Arms raised, she shimmied rhythmically in a dance that Archie didn’t recognize.

Aunt Candace bristled. “Do you even know how ridic—”

She stopped as Uncle Dan squeezed her shoulder. With a glance at him, she seemed to decompress. When Uncle Dan lowered his hand, she reached out to hold it and almost smiled.

Wow, Archie thought, she’s capable of human emotion after all.

But he was still confused. “Mom didn’t say anyone was coming. Why—?”

“Yo.”

The family turned toward the open door. They had forgotten to close it. Now someone new leaned against the doorway like he was the coolest dude in the bar.

“Um, can I help you?” Archie said.

“I don’t know, junior. Can you?” The guy laughed. When no one else did, he pursed his lips and stepped inside. “Name’s Blane. I’m sure Penny’s talked about me.”

Archie eyed him head to toe. Frost-tipped hair spiked up with gel. Tinted nonprescription glasses. Button-up shirt with way too many buttons undone. Too-tight jeans that flared at the bottom to reveal fake snakeskin boots, and a fake snakeskin jacket to match. And he hadn’t bothered to use an umbrella, so all of it was damp.

Archie stared at this ludicrous man, agape. Was Mom kidding?

Uncle Dan snapped his fingers in recognition. “You’re the mechanic from that import shop, right?”

Blane’s arrogance dropped a notch. “No.”

“Oh. The shoe salesman?”

“No.”

“French teacher at the community college?”

Blane’s jaw clenched. “No, man.”

“Hmm.” Uncle Dan tapped his chin, appearing confused. “I don’t get it, Dane. You must have come up at some point, or . . .”

“It’s Blane,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh. Then no, she hasn’t talked about you.”

Uncle Dan kept a mostly straight face, but his eyes twinkled. All Blane could do was stand there and fume while someone pretended not to make fun of him.

Archie wished he could have laughed, but this was the last straw. His own jaw clenched now. “Just hold on, Blane,” he said coldly. “I’ll tell her you’re here.”

Archie stomped upstairs and stopped squarely in Mom’s doorway. She was at her vanity, applying finishing touches to her makeup.

“Really?” he said. “That guy?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the most ridiculous human in the world is waiting for you. What are you doing?”

Mom was still looking in the mirror, but he saw her go cold. “You’re too young to understand, and who I date is not your business.”

If Archie were a cartoon, steam would have jetted from his ears. “You know that’s a lie. For months, you haven’t explained why you’re dating every guy in Missouri, and I haven’t asked. But this isn’t like you anymore.”

Archie knew his emotions were running away with him. Now that the bottle was uncorked, frustrations he’d buried were spilling over and he couldn’t stop himself.

“You talk about working together, but you don’t actually do it. Now you’re running off with guys like him. And you called in babysitters when you know I’m too old for—”

“Babysitters?”

“Your sisters and Uncle Dan. Do you want my classmates to think I’m too much of a kid to take care of myself? I mean . . .”

The ice in Mom’s expression melted. In a blink, she changed from defensive to struggling not to cry. It was only then that Archie understood.

“Oh,” he said. “They . . . they aren’t here for me, are they?”

Mom shook her head. “They’re going to take your grandpa out to get dinner, then stay here with him until I get home.” Her chin started to quiver.

Now Archie was holding back his own tears. He had known this would happen someday, but now that someday was today, it felt like a tidal wave had crashed down on him.

The time had come when Grandpa—the toughest man he’d ever known—couldn’t look after himself for an evening. That was why Mom had texted their family at the last minute.

But why hadn’t she just canceled her date? Why was going out with Blane more important than anything else? He knew he should apologize, but the war of emotions collected in his throat and choked off the words. So, feeling like the jerk of the century, he turned and left Mom there alone.

Taking refuge in his room, he closed the door and sat on his bed, staring at nothing. A few minutes later he heard Mom leave with Blane.

For too long he just sat there, knowing the clock was counting down. Knowing Desta was coming and he would have to try to be charming. But wanting nothing more than to bury his head under a pillow and wish the world away.