In Three Years (A Mulberry Lane Novel, #3)

December

December

LouiseAs instructed, Louise blew out the two candles on the cake. One candle was a six; the other, a two. Cheer and applause startled her. “For she’s a jolly good fellow, for she’s a jolly good fellow,” they all sang. “For she’s a jolly good fe-llowww—which nobody can deny!”

Louise smiled. She knew they wanted her to, and so she did.

Her stepdaughter Abby was the first to give her an embrace. “Happy birthday, Mom.”

Happy birthday. Was she happy? Louise wasn’t sure. As of late, everything was a bit off kilter. Her thoughts were fragmented. The time, the days, the faces of those around her all meshed together like the steam that rose from a hot cup of tea. Some days were good. Others, not so much. Joy no longer rushed through her like it did before. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, returning Abby’s hug. She held Abby’s face in her hands and studied it. Yes. It was definitely Abby. Her big brown eyes, once angry and defensive, looked back at her own. Her long black curly hair framed her small and beautiful face. Abby looked just like her father.

Louise wondered if the time would ever come when she would forget who Abby was to her. Some say you don’t forget your family—those you’ve spent many years of your life with. But what about stepfamilies? Did Alzheimer’s discriminate? Could Alzheimer’s fool her brain into forgetting Abby?

Abby had entered her life in a funny way; although it really wasn’t funny then. As it turned out, Abby was the daughter of Louise’s late husband, Warren. It had been an affair. A one-night-stand, discovered only when Abby—then just sixteen-years-old—turned up at Louise’s doorstep in need of a home.

Louise should have been angry. Actually...she was. She was beyond angry. But then things changed. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Abby had peeled back the layers; one by one. The young girl managed to get through to her cruel stepmother. She crawled in and settled into a small corner of Louise’s once broken heart. No—actually, it was bigger than small. Abby had taken up a big space in her heart, and Louise was more than happy to oblige.

There had been a time when Louise used to enjoy celebrating her birthdays. December was her month. It was the time of year when everything was beautiful and miracles seemed possible.

But now, it felt as if her brain was a switchboard made up of a hundred mini lightbulbs and there was something wrong with them. The lights...they constantly flickered. On and off. Off and on. Day in and day out.

Every day, she awaited the eventual power surge; the one that would ultimately switch everything off, frying the motherboard. But it never came. Instead, the flickering left her disoriented and unsettled.

“Open your gifts, Granny!” the children squealed with delight.

Louise looked at them. Sarah’s children—Liam, Noah, and Zoe. Kate’s son, Adam. And of course, her very own daughter’s daughter, Lulu. Hot tears pricked behind her eyes. It had been three years since the doctors had told her that she had Alzheimer’s Disease. Louise wondered if she would make it to Christmas, which was only just three weeks away. She would miss them—all her little darlings.

“Granny’s crying,” Lulu stated, her lips forming a small pout. She was such a beautiful little girl. At just two-years-old, she was already so observant and empathetic.

“Those are happy tears,” Madison said. “Isn’t it, Mom?”

Louise nodded and pressed her lips into a smile. She couldn’t believe that her daughter had a daughter of her own. Life truly was a miracle.

Madison had returned home just a few months before. It was right after Louise told Abby and the rest about her diagnosis. Before that, she and Madison had been estranged for several years. Fiercely independent and angry with her mother, Madison had moved across the world to New Zealand; literally the furthest place from Carlton Bay that she could escape to. Louise thought she would never again see her daughter.

Naturally, there was more to the story than just that. There is always more.

Louise hadn’t been a very good mother. It was a fact she acknowledged; one she bore guilt over. For many years, Louise had accepted Madison’s exit as her penance for the pain she’d caused her daughter, being an absent mother herself.

“Granny’s happy,” Louise finally said in an attempt to shield the children from the anxiety that welled up inside her. “Granny’s very happy.”

* * *

THE BIRTHDAY PARTY had left Louise exhausted. Gone were the days when she could stand for long periods. Gone were the days when she could follow multiple conversations. In fact, gone were the days when she could do anything at all.

It wasn’t long before sleep beckoned and Louise sat falling asleep on the sofa.

Behind her closed eyes, she could hear the hushed voices. She didn’t know what time it was.

“We’re going to head home now. Is there anything you need before we go?” It was Sarah.

“We’ll be fine. Thanks, Sarah,” Philip said.

Louise took a slow breath in. The steady sound of her heart beating echoed in her left ear as she leaned her head on a throw pillow. Philip—he truly was the love of her life. The thought made her smile. What had she ever done to deserve such a kind and loving man? And Sarah...Louise must have done something remarkable in her past to have gained such a friend.

“I’ve put the dishwasher on, so you’ll need to empty it when it’s done.” That was Kate’s voice. “Or I can come back later and empty if for you.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Philip said. “I’m sure Abby and Shelby will be happy to do it.”

Louise tried to speak up, but her mouth wouldn’t open. Even her mouth was tired. She tried to tell her brain to tell her mouth to speak. But it was too hard. “Kate, don’t go. Stay with me,” she’d wanted to say.

She wasn’t sure when it all started—the tiptoeing and whispering. It was as if they were afraid to upset her or disturb her. The truth was, Louise wanted them to stay. She wanted to hear their voices—happy, excited, chatting. She wanted to hear the laughter and squeals of the children. It was one of the few ways that she could feel part of something; giving her some semblance of a past she’d once known. Instead, they whispered, tiptoed, and quietly shut the door behind them.

“Don’t go,” she tried to say once more. “Don’t leave me alone with the silence.”

The silence infuriated Louise. And being alone frightened her, for it was during those moments that something pulled her into another world. A world where she knew no one; where she didn’t recognize anything or anyone. “Don’t go...” she moaned.

“I’m here,” Philip said. “I’m right here,” he whispered softly.

The warmth of his touch comforted her. “Promise me,” she said. “Promise me you won’t leave me.”

“I promise,” he said.

And just before she slipped into slumber, she felt his kiss on her forehead.

“I love you,” Philip said.

She wanted to tell him that she loved him too. But it was too late. Sleep had claimed her.