Page 7 of Chilled
Alice grimaced. “That will be Mom. You’d better get back there and say hello.”
“Is she with us today?” Brenna asked.
Alice held her hand out palm down and tipped it back and forth. “In and out.”
“Great,” Brenna frowned. “Isn’t there anything they can do for her?”
“We’ve got her on rivastigmine tartrate, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.”
Brenna’s heart ached with the mental loss of the only parent she had left. “I wish we had her back.”
Their mother had started showing signs of Alzheimer’s two years ago, and her progression had been swift and painful for her family. Once an active woman who had enjoyed volunteering at the hospital and the Salvation Army thrift shop, Marian Jensen had had her driving privileges revoked. This had forced her to move in with Alice and her husband so they could make sure she didn’t wander out into the cold and die of exposure.
“She shows up on occasion, maybe she’ll be with us today.”
“Let’s hope.” With a deep breath, Brenna pushed her shoulders back and followed her sister down the hallway. “Are you sure you’re okay with this arrangement? We could look into a nursing home.”
“No way. Mom’s only sixty-eight, and she gets around just fine. We need to save the money for a nursing home when I can’t help her anymore.”
“I feel bad this is all on your shoulders. Just let me know what I can do to help. Maybe I can watch Mom and the kids one weekend so you and Stan can take a trip or something.”
“That would be great.” Alice smiled. “I don’t know the last time Stan and I had time alone.”
“Of course, it’ll be after we solve this case.”
“Oh, I hope it’s soon. It’s so scary knowing there’s a psycho loose in our town. This is Riverton, for God’s sake, not Minneapolis or Chicago.”
Alice led the way into a well-lit room with a double bed on one side and a small couch positioned close to the window. Their mother sat on the couch, a colorful afghan draped across her lap and a crocheted shawl around her shoulders.
Brenna bent to press a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “Hi, Mom. It’s me, Brenna.”
Marian Jensen glared up at her. “I know who you are.”
Brenna suppressed a frown and forced a smile for her mother. “I love you, Mom.”
“That’s more like it.” Her mother patted the couch cushion next to her. “Come sit by me.”
Brenna scrambled for something to say as she settled on the seat next to the woman who was becoming less her mother and more a stranger every day. “How’ve you been, Mom?”
“When are you going to get married, Brenna?” Ever since her mother had started showing signs of Alzheimer’s, she’d fixated on Brenna’s marital status. She’d forgotten so many things about her past, but it seemed she clung to the dream of seeing her daughter married as her last hold on reality.
“I don’t know, Mom.” Brenna squirmed in her seat, never comfortable talking about marriage or relationships.
Her mother patted her knee. “There are a lot of lonely men out there who can love you despite your scars. You’ve just set your standards too high.”
Alice rolled her eyes while Brenna braced for the lecture.
“That’s what’s the matter with you, Brenna. You can’t expect to have the perfect marriage, like your sister. You’re not perfect, God love you, and you know I love you, too. But the truth is, you’re damaged goods. You have to lower your expectations.”
As her mother went on and on, Brenna tuned out. If she didn’t, she’d go crazy. For the past two years, her mother had presented her with the same argument.Settle, Brenna. Don’t waste your life looking for perfection. Alice has it, but you’re not Alice.
As her mother droned on, Brenna’s jaw tightened until she felt as if she’d ground a quarter inch off her back teeth. When her head reached the explosion point, she stood. “I have to go.”
“You just got here.” The nagging woman disappeared, leaving a lonely old lady who relied on her family for her care. Her mother, the woman who’d loved her unconditionally until her mind had begun to fade. “Stay awhile with me. You know how much I love having both my little girls with me.” She reached out to clutch Brenna’s wrist, her grip surprisingly firm for a woman who might weigh all of ninety pounds dripping wet.
“I love you, Mom, but I have to go to work.” She leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”
“They feed me cooked carrots. You know I hate carrots.”
