Talia Champion heard the news about Stanton Youngblood’s murder when Erin McClune, the hospice nurse, came to check on Talia’s father. Erin was a tall, pretty blonde with strong arms and a gentle heart, and she wasted no time talking about what she called “the showdown” in front of the police station.
Talia was shocked by the news, and saddened to learn that the man she’d once thought would be her father-in-law had been murdered. Then the reality of what that meant hit her. The family would gather. There would be constant turmoil until the killer was found. And knowing that family like she did, she was sure Bowie Youngblood was already on his way home.
It had been over seven years since she’d refused his marriage proposal and ended the joy in her life. It made her stomach hurt just thinking about seeing him again, even from a distance.
She glanced in on her father, grateful Erin was there tending to him for now, and decided to take a quick break. She poured herself a glass of sweet tea and went out on the back porch for a breath of air. After his years of suffering, her father’s Alzheimer’s was finally taking him down. As she sat, she thought back to the night she’d learned her father’s fate, and then leaned back and closed her eyes, remembering what else that realization had meant to her world.
*
Talia was dividing the last of her birthday cake for their dessert that night and thinking to herself that nineteen didn’t feel any older than eighteen, when her daddy came in the back door from work.
“Hi, Dad,” she said.
“Hi, baby, did you have a good day?” he asked, as he hung his cap and work coat on the rack by the back door.
“I guess. I did laundry all day,” she said, and then smiled.
“I need to talk to you,” he said.
She was wondering what she’d done that had upset him as she took a seat at the kitchen table, and then she looked at his face. There were tears in his eyes.
She started to panic; even before she asked, she knew it had to be bad. Daddy never cried.
“Daddy? What’s wrong?”
He reached for her hands and held them—almost as if he needed her strength to say what had to be said.
“I’m sick, girl. And I’m not gonna get better. In fact, it’s gonna get worse, much worse. I wish to God it wasn’t happening. I am so sorry this burden has fallen on you.”
From the moment she’d heard him say I’m sick, she’d been shaking.
“What’s wrong, Daddy? What is it?”
Marshall Champion shuddered. What he was about to say was terrifying, and saying the words aloud would validate the truth of what he aleady knew.
“I have Alzheimer’s disease. The doctor reckons I’ve had it for a couple of years now.”
Talia gasped. She couldn’t focus. She couldn’t make a sound. She looked at her father as if seeing him for the first time and was afraid—afraid of what he would become.
He kept talking.
“I’ve got my pension coming from the railroad, and I’ll start drawing my Social Security this year, but today was my last day at the gas station. I’m making too many mistakes. I reckon what’s coming in will be enough to put me somewhere when the need comes, but I’ll have to depend on you to do all that, and I’m so sorry.”
Now Talia was holding on to her father’s hands in desperation. Life had been so perfect. She and Bowie were finally out of high school and getting ready to go away to college together. She was already toying with the idea of being his wife for the rest of their lives. She had to talk now. Please, God, let it make sense.
“It’s not your fault, Daddy, and of course I’ll be here for you. Don’t ever apologize about this to me again, okay?”
Marshall nodded as the tears rolled down his face.
“You are a good girl, honey.”
She took a deep, painful breath and smiled around the heartache.
“You are a good father. I’ve been blessed.”
Marshall nodded, then turned her loose, patted her hands and stood up.
“Well, now, I’m glad it’s been said. I’ll make supper tonight, okay?”
“I’ve already got it going,” she said. “Just go wash up. It should be done in about thirty minutes.”
Her hands were shaking as she watched him leave the room. Still reeling from the news, she began grasping at straws, trying to figure out how to make this work and still have her life with Bowie. Her thoughts were chaotic as she reached for her laptop.
She’d been researching colleges, and now she began researching nursing homes instead, checking them for costs and levels of care. It didn’t take long to learn that not every nursing home would even take Alzheimer’s patients, and the ones that did were nowhere near Eden and unbelievably expensive. She was beginning to research nursing homes that took Medicare and Medicaid patients when she heard the shower turn off.
Her dad would be back soon, expecting supper on the table, so she shut down the laptop and got up to finish the meal.