Lost by James Patterson & James O. Born

Author:James Patterson & James O. Born [Patterson, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2020-01-13T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 55

I TOOK MARIE to my house, despite the fact that I had some concerns. My mom had been pretty good since the incident at the doctor’s office a few days ago, but the likelihood of her having an episode increased as time went on, and I was afraid we were due for a bad night.

My apprehension grew as I turned into my driveway and parked the Explorer. I didn’t know whether I should warn Marie or just roll the dice and see what happened. “Marie, I probably need to tell you something,” I said.

She turned in the seat to give me her full attention. “Of course.”

I thought about how to phrase it, but there’d be no point in telling her if my mom was doing well. Finally, I chickened out and said, “I’m really glad you got a chance to come to Florida. My mom and sister are going to love you.”

I appreciated the smile she gave me.

I felt like I was about to make entry on a search warrant as we ambled up the walkway. As soon as the door opened and I caught a whiff of the Italian food, I felt better.

My little sister popped out of the kitchen immediately, walked right up to Marie, and extended her hand. “You must be Marie. I’m sorry you have to put up with my bonehead brother. He said you took great care of him in Amsterdam, so we hope to do the same for you.”

I stepped next to my sister and gave her a hug. My primary purpose was to gauge the amount of alcohol on her breath. It was tolerable.

Lila took Marie by the arm and walked her toward the kitchen. Lila casually looked over her shoulder and winked at me. That meant everything was okay. At least for now.

I don’t know why, but my mom had become something of a gourmet cook since her diagnosis of dementia. As kids, Lila and I got only the basics. We were well fed, but no one would’ve considered our house a culinary mecca. Now something had clicked, and my mom seemed to understand much more about seasoning; she’d begun making astonishing dishes. I’d asked the doctor about it. He’d just shrugged and said, “I wish I could tell you if it was related to the dementia. The truth is, we have very little idea of what things are triggered by this disease.”

Tonight, I was happy and relieved to see that Mom was as gracious and charming as she normally was. Or at least, as she used to be. She ushered the three of us out to the patio, where she had a pitcher of mojitos ready. We settled in for a drink, Marie sitting between me and my sister, and my mom said, “I tried a new lasagna recipe tonight, and we’ll start with a salad of arugula, strawberries, and walnuts.”

I clapped my hands and said, “That sounds delicious.”

My mom touched my arm and said, “Thanks, Chuck.”

My heart skipped a beat.

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