The Second Man by Emelle Gamble Read Free Book Online Page A

light.”
    “Uncle Bill. Uncle Bill. Uncle Bill,” Dorothy replied.
    She did this often, repeated words and phrases. But until lately she’d only done it late at night, when she was tired.
    Jill took a rattling breath. “She’s sleeping too much lately. I’m going to talk about the meds with her doctors this week. Don’t take it personally that she doesn’t seem to know you.”
    Dave’s expression reflected shock. It had only been a month since he had seen Dorothy, but it was clear she was getting worse every day. “Don’t worry about me. And it’s hard to adjust to new surroundings. It’s like that for everyone. She’ll settle down.”
    “I hope so.” Jill set the orchid down on the table. Her mother was wearing a lavender print dress and tennis shoes. “Why don’t I fix Mom’s hair and we’ll walk up and see you in the lobby? Would you like to come have a bite with us in the cafeteria before you go?”
    “No. No, I wanted to give Dorothy a hug.” He made no move to do that, however, as her eyes had closed and she was leaning back in the chair. Instead, he hugged Jill. “I’ll see you next week when Carly gets in. All you kids can come over if you get a chance. Even that Swede.”
    “Okay.”
    “You take care now.”
    “I will. Thank you for coming to see her, Dave.”
    “Sure thing.” His eyes glistened. With a last glance at Dorothy, he hurried out of the room.
    He had lasted about three minutes, but Jill didn’t blame Carly’s dad for making a quick retreat. It was disconcerting for anyone who had known her mother to see her as she was now. She thought of Max, who would not remember her mother as she once was, and then pushed all the jumble of emotion that was Max out of her mind.
    She glanced at her watch. It was a quarter after twelve and the luncheon started promptly at twelve-thirty. All residents were to be in their chairs then, according to the hot-pink flyer that was pasted on her mother’s door.
    “Okay, Dorothy. Time to wake up.”
    She touched her mother and Dorothy opened her eyes.
    “What day is this?”
    “Easter Sunday. Look what I brought you.” She held up the corsage.
    Dorothy turned in Jill’s direction. Due to the progression of her Alzheimer’s, she had difficulty focusing. “Hello.”
    “It’s Jill, Mom. How are you feeling today?”
    “Fine.” She blinked several times. Her eyes, once a clear bright blue, were faded and infused with an odd, shining spark inside the irises, almost like the red-eye look you see in poorly taken photos. Jill had noticed this glint for several months, but when she asked during check-ups what caused it, none of Dorothy’s doctors seemed to see what she described.
    “Can I put your corsage on? I thought you might like to wear it today. They’re having a special meal in the dining room for Easter.”
    Dorothy didn’t look at Jill as she wrestled the creaking, snapping piece of plastic open and pinned the thing to her mother’s dress.
    “That looks beautiful.”
    Dorothy sniffed and made accidental eye contact. “It smells funny.”
    “Do you want me to take it off?”
    She sniffed again. “I have a cold.” She sniffed twice more. Dorothy did not have a cold, but she constantly sniffed as if she had hay fever.
    Jill wondered if this was a survival instinct. Maybe the pieces of her brain that still worked told her to rely on other senses more now. Maybe she thought her sniffing instincts could lead her out of the forest of confusion that was her daily life.
    “The orchid looks nice on your dress, mom. That’s the one we got you last summer. At Nordstrom’s.”
    Her mother turned and waved at the window. “Who’s that man?”
    Jill stared outside. “There’s no one there.”
    A long silence followed and Jill knew that was the end of the conversation.
    Dorothy felt around her neck for the antique locket she wore at her throat. It was the only piece of jewelry she decided their mother could keep while living here, as the