home.”
Those pleading words tugged at Thayne’s soul. He hadn’t realized he looked so much like his grandfather when he was young, not until Cheyenne had found a carousel of old slides. Thayne sat on the edge of the bed next to his grandmother and took one of her hands in his. Her pulse raced under his fingertips, and he cupped her face. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know him,” she whispered, glancing at Pops. “I’m sorry I was mean. He looks nice enough, but . . . I don’t know him.” She clutched Thayne’s hand with a grip that belied her eighty years. “I’m scared, Lincoln. Something’s wrong with me.”
Thayne blinked back the burning behind his eyes and forced a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be OK. We’re here to take care of you.”
“Good. I like you, Lincoln. I might even marry you someday.” She pressed his hand to her cheek, closed her eyes, and leaned against him.
He circled his arm around her. God, he hated this disease.
Not much helped when Gram lost herself like this. Her anxiety skyrocketed. Lately, she’d taken to biting her nails and gritting her teeth when the world became too confusing. But they’d discovered one thing that did calm her. Gram responded to music.
Thayne ducked his head and hummed the opening of a familiar tune under his breath, rocking her back and forth.
He’d heard the song’s story a million times. Pops had surprised Gram for their twenty-fifth anniversary with a romantic picnic at the swimming hole on the edge of Blackwood Ranch. A warm summer night, a full moon, the water, and soft music in the background. “Could I Have This Dance” had played on their truck’s radio. Gram had said nothing was more romantic than dancing in the middle of nowhere, underneath the stars, with the man you loved. When Thayne had learned to waltz, Gram had used the same song to teach him.
Thayne sang the first verse under his breath, his baritone soft and soothing. Her breathing slowed a bit and she opened her eyes. They had cleared for the moment.
“Helen?” his grandfather asked, voice tentative.
Gram lifted her hand to her head to touch the bandage gingerly and looked at Pops with concerned eyes. “Lincoln, honey? What happened to my head? Did we have an accident? Am I at the hospital?”
Pops sat on the other side of Gram and clasped her hand in his. “You were hurt, Helen. At the clinic. Do you remember what happened last night?”
Gram bristled. “Well, of course I remember. I was taking little Cheyenne to dinner with her boyfriend. She’s going to marry him someday, you know.” Gram smiled, but confusion slid over her expression. “She wanted ice cream for dessert, I think. That little girl is going to turn into an ice-cream cone someday.”
“Honey,” Pops said. “Cheyenne’s grown up now. She’s a doctor.”
“A doctor?” Gram’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “No, no. That can’t be.”
Thayne patted his grandmother’s hand and stood up. He walked over to his father. He recognized the sorrow in his dad’s eyes. They were losing Gram a little every day. This time, though, panic laced his expression as well.
He grasped Thayne’s arm. “She doesn’t remember what happened to Cheyenne.”
Gram was the only witness, and Cheyenne’s life was at stake. Normally, they didn’t push when Gram didn’t remember. They just backed off. This time they couldn’t.
Thayne crossed the room and knelt in front of her. “Gram.”
She stared into his eyes, her own clear. “Thayne.” She patted his cheek.
“Pops took you to Cheyenne’s office last night. You were going to have dinner together while he played poker. Someone came in. They messed up the place. Do you remember?”
“I saw a triangle,” Gram whispered, running her fingers over Thayne’s military cut. “And red.” She shook her head. “Get that nurse back in here so I can leave. I have to get ready for school, Lincoln. I can’t be late.”
Thayne rose,
Those pleading words tugged at Thayne’s soul. He hadn’t realized he looked so much like his grandfather when he was young, not until Cheyenne had found a carousel of old slides. Thayne sat on the edge of the bed next to his grandmother and took one of her hands in his. Her pulse raced under his fingertips, and he cupped her face. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know him,” she whispered, glancing at Pops. “I’m sorry I was mean. He looks nice enough, but . . . I don’t know him.” She clutched Thayne’s hand with a grip that belied her eighty years. “I’m scared, Lincoln. Something’s wrong with me.”
Thayne blinked back the burning behind his eyes and forced a reassuring smile. “It’s going to be OK. We’re here to take care of you.”
“Good. I like you, Lincoln. I might even marry you someday.” She pressed his hand to her cheek, closed her eyes, and leaned against him.
He circled his arm around her. God, he hated this disease.
Not much helped when Gram lost herself like this. Her anxiety skyrocketed. Lately, she’d taken to biting her nails and gritting her teeth when the world became too confusing. But they’d discovered one thing that did calm her. Gram responded to music.
Thayne ducked his head and hummed the opening of a familiar tune under his breath, rocking her back and forth.
He’d heard the song’s story a million times. Pops had surprised Gram for their twenty-fifth anniversary with a romantic picnic at the swimming hole on the edge of Blackwood Ranch. A warm summer night, a full moon, the water, and soft music in the background. “Could I Have This Dance” had played on their truck’s radio. Gram had said nothing was more romantic than dancing in the middle of nowhere, underneath the stars, with the man you loved. When Thayne had learned to waltz, Gram had used the same song to teach him.
Thayne sang the first verse under his breath, his baritone soft and soothing. Her breathing slowed a bit and she opened her eyes. They had cleared for the moment.
“Helen?” his grandfather asked, voice tentative.
Gram lifted her hand to her head to touch the bandage gingerly and looked at Pops with concerned eyes. “Lincoln, honey? What happened to my head? Did we have an accident? Am I at the hospital?”
Pops sat on the other side of Gram and clasped her hand in his. “You were hurt, Helen. At the clinic. Do you remember what happened last night?”
Gram bristled. “Well, of course I remember. I was taking little Cheyenne to dinner with her boyfriend. She’s going to marry him someday, you know.” Gram smiled, but confusion slid over her expression. “She wanted ice cream for dessert, I think. That little girl is going to turn into an ice-cream cone someday.”
“Honey,” Pops said. “Cheyenne’s grown up now. She’s a doctor.”
“A doctor?” Gram’s forehead wrinkled in confusion. “No, no. That can’t be.”
Thayne patted his grandmother’s hand and stood up. He walked over to his father. He recognized the sorrow in his dad’s eyes. They were losing Gram a little every day. This time, though, panic laced his expression as well.
He grasped Thayne’s arm. “She doesn’t remember what happened to Cheyenne.”
Gram was the only witness, and Cheyenne’s life was at stake. Normally, they didn’t push when Gram didn’t remember. They just backed off. This time they couldn’t.
Thayne crossed the room and knelt in front of her. “Gram.”
She stared into his eyes, her own clear. “Thayne.” She patted his cheek.
“Pops took you to Cheyenne’s office last night. You were going to have dinner together while he played poker. Someone came in. They messed up the place. Do you remember?”
“I saw a triangle,” Gram whispered, running her fingers over Thayne’s military cut. “And red.” She shook her head. “Get that nurse back in here so I can leave. I have to get ready for school, Lincoln. I can’t be late.”
Thayne rose,
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