We rounded the hallway into a kitchen and the first thing I noticed was that it was covered with dirty dishes. It was also covered with at least ten baskets of eggs. I had never seen so many eggs in my life. Not even at Easter brunch as a child when we had an Easter egg hunt with family.
In the corner of the room, sitting at a small wood table, was an older man. His gray hair was thinning but there was a sparkle in his brown eyes—the same shade of brown as Jude’s. His face was heavily wrinkled, and he looked tired—like a man that had worked hard his whole life. Upon seeing us, he smiled and it lit up his face.
It didn’t escape my noticed that despite the fact that it was the evening, the man was reading the newspaper, a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. A cup of coffee and orange juice sat at the side of the plate.
“Pap,” Jude groaned, “what have I told you about the eggs?!” Not waiting for the man to respond, he continued, “They spoil. You either need to sell them, or toss them. You can’t eat all these.”
Lowering the newspaper, the older man responded. “Andrew, I’ve taken care of myself this long, I think I’m fine.”
Andrew?
“Pap—?”
“The yard needs to be mowed, do you think you can do that?” He talked right over Jude.
Jude shook his head. “You know I will, but not—”
“Today, please. It’s looking shabby.” His eyes landed on me. “Who’s this? Oh…is this Julia? She’s lovely, Andrew. You’re description didn’t do her justice. She’s stunning.”
I shot Jude a questioning gaze.
“Pap, we’ll be right back.” Jude reached for my hand and pulled me from the room.
“Alright, I’ll finish my breakfast while y’all talk,” the man said from the other room.
Once we were in the living room away from the kitchen, Jude released my hand. “I should’ve explained before we walked in here. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he muttered, shoving his fingers through his hair so it stuck up wildly. “That’s my grandpa, which I’m sure you’ve figured out. He has Alzheimer’s. Some days are good, some days are bad. Very bad. Like today. He was fine yesterday, so I thought he’d be okay today.”
“So, Andrew is…?” I prompted, my gaze travelling around the room. An old piano sat in the corner with an even older couch. One of those giant Grandfather clocks took up space against the wall. I’d never seen one in person. This house was screaming to be fixed up.
“My dad,” Jude clarified.
“And Julia?” I tilted my head to the side.
“I don’t know,” he frowned. “My mom’s name is Karen. When he gets like this, I’ve found it’s best to play along. He gets mad if I contradict him.” Jude’s eyes grew sad. Normally he always smiled or laughed, to see him like this was a new experience for me. Jude loved his grandpa. That was obvious.
“I don’t understand what any of this has to do with answering my question,” I muttered, suddenly feeling even more uncomfortable. It had to be a terrible thing to lose your memories.
“It has everything to do with it,” Jude said simply. Pointing in the direction of the kitchen, he explained, “That man in there practically raised me. He was more of a dad to me than mine ever was. Watching him slowly start forgetting things hurt more than anything. When I started college, I knew I wanted to be a nurse and work in a nursing home. I wanted to work with people like my grandpa and maybe make their day a little nicer. I want to help, because watching someone you love slip away day by day is a terrible thing. If I can ease the burden for another family, I’m glad to do so.”
I think my mouth fell off at one point during his speech and currently rolled around on the floor.
Jude Brooks had a heart.
Hell must have frozen over. Between this, and my conflicted feelings over Graham’s death, today was proving overwhelming.
“You don’t need to say anything,” he shrugged. “But that’s the truth.”
I shut my mouth, because if I spoke I might say something nice to him and that would not be good. Instead, I nodded.
“Are you okay to go back in there?” He asked, appearing nervous—like he believed I’d be afraid of his grandpa.
“Of course,” I replied. “He’s not a rabid animal.”
Jude threw his head back and laughed merrily about that. He laughed a lot. Most guys didn’t. It would be refreshing if he wasn’t, well, Jude.
Back in the kitchen, his grandpa said, “Son, get the yard mowed. You’ve got all day to flirt with the pretty girl.”
I looked out the kitchen window at the sky beyond. It was getting dark now, too dark to mow.