Fast & Loose by Elizabeth Bevarly (best classic books to read txt) 📗

it fell to midthigh. Perfect. He didn’t bother with a shirt, since they weren’t going far. And he did have plans later that would make clothing unnecessary. No reason to overdo it.

“What is it?” she asked as she padded along after him through the bedroom door.

“You’ll see.”

She followed him down the stairs and through the kitchen, hesitating at the back door when he passed through it and into the backyard.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “Privacy fence.”

She still seemed hesitant, but she tiptoed carefully out. It was too early for his neighbor on the left to be up, anyway. The guy worked nights at the Ford plant. And his neighbor on the right, a landscaper, got up before dawn and was long gone by now.

“Okay, I’m out here,” she said as she came to a halt beside him, tugging the T-shirt lower, even though it was perfectly acceptable the way it was. He never figured Bree for the modest type. For some reason, he liked it that she was.

“The way I see it,” he said, pointing toward the northeast corner of the house, “there’s enough space over on this side of the yard that we could build a good-sized extension onto the house. Big enough for your mom to have a bedroom and private bath, and a little alcove for a sitting area, too. That side of the house gets the evening sun, so maybe the whole sundowning thing with Alzheimer’s wouldn’t be as bad.”

Bree studied him for a long time in silence, her dark brows knitting downward. “Sundowning,” she finally said. “You know about sundowning?”

“I’ve been doing some reading,” he told her. “I still have a lot to learn about your mom’s illness, but yeah. I know about sundowning. About how some Alzheimer’s patients get more restless when the sun goes down. How that’s when a lot of them start to wander.”

She nodded, but said nothing.

“If that happens with your mom,” he said, “you won’t have to worry about her getting out of the house. All the doors have keyed dead bolts. And I can put keyed bolts on all the windows, too. She won’t be able to leave the house without someone unlocking something for her, and you can be in charge of the keys.”

Now Bree nodded. “That’s reassuring. And I appreciate it. But wandering’s not the worst of it, Rufus.”

He met her gaze levelly. “Yeah, I know. But between the two of us, and with a little help from our friends, I think we could take care of her. As long as we have each other, we can handle whatever comes.”

She hesitated a telling moment, then said, with much less conviction than before, “It’s not your responsibility.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “It’s our responsibility.”

She shook her head slowly. “How can you say that?” she asked softly. “You didn’t ask for it.”

“Neither did you.”

“Even so, I can’t ask you to take on something like that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.”

“But why?”

“Because, Bree, that’s what people who are in love do. They take care of each other. And they take care of what’s important to each other. They accept each other’s responsibilities. They take what life gives them together, and they face it together, and they deal with it together.” He smiled. “That’s just one of many perks the job has.” He covered the few steps that stood between them and cupped his hand over her cheek. “Anything that affects you, Bree, anything that worries you, or scares you, or hurts you, I want to be the one who makes you feel better. I can’t cure your mom. And I can’t take away your fear for her. But I can offer you a safe place for her. And I can be here for you whenever you need someone to remind you that you’re not in this alone. ’Cause, Bree, you’re not in this alone anymore. Not if you don’t want to be.”

He could see the fight leaving her by the way she tilted her head into his hand and by the way her entire body seemed to bow as the tension left her. Even so, she said, “It could take more than we can manage. I’ve done a lot more reading than you, and I’ve talked to other people in the support group. Alzheimer’s is—”

“Alzheimer’s is horrible,” he finished for her. “And it’s something that affects a lot of families, Bree. Rich, poor, it doesn’t matter. And they all manage somehow.”

“Not all of them,” she said.

“Yeah, they do,” he said firmly. “They learn to manage. Because they know they have to.” The way she looked at him then, he thought maybe he was getting through to her. So he hurried on, “You have a lot of friends, Bree. I do, too. They’ll help us out if we ask them. Give us breaks when we need them. Do whatever they can to make it a little easier for us. I’m not saying it’s going to be smooth sailing. There will be some rough times ahead. But you don’t have to go through them alone.”

Her eyes filled with tears at that, and her legs almost buckled beneath her. Rufus swept her into his arms, and she clung to him, crying silently at first, then letting go with great, gulping sobs. He let her go as long as she needed to. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her, carrying around the fear, the worry, and the sadness she must have been carrying around for some time. And not just carrying, but hiding it, too. She hadn’t wanted to share the responsibility of her mother’s illness with her friends, even though that was the very thing friends would want her to do.

For a long time, he held her, rubbing her back lightly and brushing back her hair, until her sobs lessened to sniffles and she was able to mumble something about needing a tissue. Rufus smiled and guided her back into the kitchen, pulling a paper napkin from a holder on