“Higgins! How’s it going, bud?”
“I’m well, thank you for asking, sir. Yourself?”
“Caleb, my dear!”
Katherine-Rose, Beatrice-Rose’s mom, descended the stairs like a queen in a purple dress. She always loved dramatic entrances. I didn’t miss the glass in her hand—brandy, probably. She had grown fond of drinking since her husband’s health started declining.
She kissed my cheek as soon as she reached me. I tried not to recoil when I smelled the alcohol on her breath.
“It seems that every time I see you, Caleb, my dear, you grow taller. And more handsome each day.”
“Any taller, and he’d hit the ceiling.”
“Beatrice-Rose! Mind your manners, please!” Katherine-Rose glared at her daughter, disapproval dripping in her voice. “How juvenile.”
I could feel Beatrice-Rose shrinking beside me. She reached for my hand, seeking comfort.
“Definitely not. I find her quite charming. After all, where else would she get it but from you?” I said easily, wanting to diffuse the tension in the air.
Katherine-Rose’s eyes widened with pleasure, and she let out a trilling laugh. “Oh, you handsome devil—”
A loud wail cut her off. “No! Thief! Get away! She stole my money! Help! Help!”
I spun around at the commotion behind us. My jaw dropped as I took in Liam’s decimated form standing in the hallway. He looked terrible. His clothes and hair, always immaculate, were in disarray. His cheeks were sunken, the sharp bones of his face in stark relief against pale, taut skin.
“Please, let’s go back to your room, Liam,” the nurse pleaded.
“Get away from me!” he shouted, the look in his eyes reminding me of a trapped animal.
“Dad!”
Liam’s eyes focused on Beatrice-Rose and narrowed infinitesimally. Suspiciously. “Who are you?” he hissed. “What are you doing in my house?”
“Dad,” Beatrice-Rose choked out.
“Who the hell are you? There are strangers in my house! Someone call the police!”
When the nurse reached for Liam’s arm, he panicked, shoving her away from him.
“Get him away from here!” Katherine-Rose snapped. “I’m paying you to take care of him! Oh God!” Her hands shook as she brought her glass to her lips and took a long drink. She hurried away without saying goodbye.
Beatrice-Rose stared as the nurse struggled to take her screaming father back to his room.
“Haldol,” Beatrice-Rose whispered. “They give him Haldol to calm him down. I think. Or maybe that’s changed. I don’t know…” She trailed off into unintelligible muttering. And then slowly, she slumped to the floor, weeping, dejected.
“B.” I lifted her to her feet, and she leaned heavily on me, burrowing her face in my shirt, still weeping.
I took her to her room and helped her get into her bed. Picking up a chair from her sitting area, I carried it over and placed it beside her bed. I sat.
“He doesn’t know who I am anymore, Cal.” She curled herself into a ball but had stopped crying. “Cal, don’t go.”
I felt a headache coming on. Red was waiting for me, and I hadn’t even phoned her yet. But I couldn’t possibly leave Beatrice-Rose in this state.
“I need you,” she begged. “Please.”
“All right. Let me phone Red first. Where’s your phone?”
She pursed her lips. “In my purse.”