Scarlet Fever

CHAPTER 8

March 1, 2019 Friday

A turn-of-the-century low brick building that had once housed a large machine shop on Harris Street in Charlottesville had been turned into offices, including a high-tech gym. A long polished hallway ran through the center of the old rectangular edifice.

Sister Jane opened the door to the gym, stepping into the hall at either the wrong time or the right time. Exiting in front of her, Drew and Bainbridge Taylor were deep in an argument.

“I am not doing this,” Bainbridge spat.

“It’s your father.” Drew glanced up, seeing Sister.

Bainbridge turned in the direction of his uncle’s line of sight. “Don’t listen to him. I know they’ve all said I stole the silver from Pitchfork Farm, was loaded on drugs. It’s a lie. All a lie.”

Sister calmly replied, “Bainbridge, gossip is part of life. First of all, why would you steal the family’s silver? Makes no sense.”

“Right.” He stood straighter, feeling justified. “Mother left half the silver to me, half to my father, plus I am his heir. My ever-so-solicitous uncle took the silver into his house when my father began to lose it.”

“I did. Dammit. I don’t know who goes in and out of your place. A bunch of worthless assholes. They’d steal the silver.”

“So I’m a worthless asshole, too?”

“Gentlemen, I think I should be going.”

“No.” Bainbridge implored her. “You’re a straight shooter. I’ve known you all my life. I want you to hear my side of the story. I’m not as bad as Uncle Drew makes out.”

“Bainbridge, I don’t think you’re bad but I do think you need a career that can focus your many talents. You always were a bright kid.” She exaggerated, for Bainbridge was only average.

“Which is why he got into so much trouble.” Drew unfortunately opened his mouth as Sister was soothing his nephew. “He was doing okay until his mother died three years ago. Fell apart, and of course that’s when Morris began to really unravel.”

“I did not fall apart.”

“I’d say losing your job, drinking and drugging, hanging out with those worthless people count as falling apart.” Drew sounded triumphant.

“Might I ask what you two are doing here?” Sister hoped to steer the conversation away from recrimination so she could get the hell out of there.

“An Alzheimer’s support group. I asked Bainbridge to come.”

“That was good of you, Bainbridge.” She smiled at him. “I suppose there are stages one can recognize. I don’t really know.”

A silence followed this then the young man said, “He’s crackers. Knows who we are but babbles. Sometimes I know what he’s saying. Other times he’s talking to Mom even though she’s been gone three years. And sometimes, and this is really weird, Dad talks to his own mother. I can’t stand it.”

“He can’t help it.” Drew’s anger was rising again. “And I want the silver back. It’s not safe in your apartment.”

“No. That’s my half. What if you sell it behind my back?”

Sister folded her arms across her ample chest more to rest her shoulders than anything, for her one shoulder ached in the cold. She ignored Bainbridge’s accusation, grateful that Drew did also. “Is it possible that you all could talk to the coordinator of the support group without other people there?”

As she said this others filed out from the room, which with the door open could be seen to have couches and comfortable chairs placed for people to relax and talk.

“I don’t need therapy and I’m not a drug addict. Yes, I did have some Oxycontin in my system when I was picked up but I took that for pain. I’m not hooked.” Bainbridge’s lower lip stuck out.

“I certainly hope not,” his former master rejoined. “I don’t so much think of this as therapy, but you two have a lot on your hands. If you could cooperate it might be easier.”

“The truth is, Bainbridge, your father will never get better, only worse.”

“You don’t know that. He has lucid moments. And maybe there are new drugs coming on the market that could help.” The young man sounded both defiant and sorrowful.

“Amazing breakthroughs happen it seems every day. How wonderful it would be if one happened in time for your father. He was a brilliant man,” Sister remarked with feeling, then looked at Drew. “Is he ready for structured living? I mean, do you think it’s gone that far?”

“No.” Bainbridge raised his voice.

Ignoring him, his uncle replied to Sister. “You saw him at Cindy Chandler’s. He knows his old friends, he more or less knew where he was, even if he didn’t remember how he got there. But change terrifies someone with dementia or Alzheimer’s. Were I to move him into a home I think he’d lose it. At least with me he lives in familiar surroundings. He still knows who I am. He has his own room with those things Bainbridge and I took from his old home and we put up a lot of pictures of Sharon.” He mentioned Morris’s deceased wife.

“I see.”

Bainbridge hopped in. “He chirps around at the house. My worry is he’ll wander off. His nurse doesn’t keep track of him plus he’s expensive.”

“We aren’t at this point yet but when it comes I will have to put him away or lock him in his bedroom. I know it sounds awful but there will be items that he might still recognize. As for his nurse, what else can I do?”

She nodded. “Well, I don’t envy either of you this decision.”

“And the best home is in Gordonsville. Really the best and that’s about eight thousand dollars a month. There’s always a doctor on the premises.”

“Drew, I had no idea.” And she didn’t either.

“There are quite a few worthy homes in the area but they begin to, well, diminish when the price falls under four thousand a month. With four thousand you usually get a doctor at least part-time and the staff has trained nurses as well as a locked ward for the most advanced cases. Then, too, if you don’t have a physician, drugs can’t be administered. The patient has to be driven to the hospital and that frightens them. Then you must restrain them. Sister, it’s awful.”

“You’re not putting my father in a straitjacket.”

“I hope not.”

“Is there no way the two of you can formulate some kind of schedule? Bainbridge, maybe you can be closer. A care schedule. Hire nurses when the deterioration accelerates?” She wanted to be helpful.

“Up to a point.” Drew sighed. “That’s the goal. To keep him home. Now that Bainbridge has moved back from town I’m a bit more hopeful.”

Bainbridge hated the loss of money for a nurse, as his father had done very well. His pension payment alone could keep a small family comfortable. “There’s enough money to keep him home.”

Drew hesitated. “With some prudence.”

“How did Morris get the keys to the Range Rover?” Sister changed the subject.

“Oh.” Drew sagged against the wall, his legs felt tired, he felt tired. “That was, as you know, Sharon’s pride and joy. He bought it for her brand new even as she was failing fast. Still looked brand new. Her lung cancer progressed so rapidly. He bought it for her and she could only drive it maybe six weeks after that. But Morris parked it by her bedroom window when it came to that so she could see it. We thought we had all the keys. I use it sometimes. Well, a lightbulb must have gone on upstairs.” He pointed to his head. “Because he found a second set of keys he must have put away when she died. Odd. I mean it is odd how information comes and goes.”

“I should have the car,” the tall young man grumbled. “You have everything.”

“When I’m sure you aren’t drinking or snorting whatever up your nose, maybe.”

“I don’t do cocaine.”

“I guess you don’t have to. Aren’t opioids stronger?”

Without a word, Bainbridge turned on his heel and walked out of the building.

“Dammit,” Drew cursed.

“I’m sorry, Drew.”

A long sigh escaped his lips. “Half the silver does belong to him. He told the truth about that. But that silver originally belonged to his great-grandmother and he shouldn’t break up the pattern. God knows, Sharon would turn over in her grave.”

“She left too early,” Sister wisely commented.

“Funny, Bainbridge is a grown man but he needed his mother. Father and son never did see eye to eye and now with this deterioration, it’s worse. He needs to help care for Morris and I really need to find round-the-clock staff soon. I mean, if Bainbridge were to lose his temper I’m not so sure he wouldn’t haul off and clock Morris.”

Sister’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, I hope not, Drew. I truly hope not. Talk to Bainbridge. This might be an opportunity to make amends.”

“Elder abuse is rampant and unreported. Ask Ben Sidell.” He named the sheriff, and did not respond to Sister’s suggestion.

“We only have a few hunts left. Seven, I think, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, then we hit St. Patrick’s Day, and poof, end of the season. Come on out more. It will do you good.”

“I’m so busy. Actually, business is picking up.”

“You need to get your mind off this. You have a fixture card. Next Saturday after this, we’ll be at Tattenhall Station. Give you time to adjust your schedule.”

“You know, you’re right. What if the fox crosses over to Old Paradise?” He named a fixture owned by Crawford Howard, who had had his fights with Sister and Jefferson Hunt.

“We’ve reached a rough accord.” She beamed.

He smiled. “Now, that is an invitation.”