“It will be all right,” Gramps said slowly. “Trent’s been told we’re coming for breakfast.”
Betty didn’t say a word, but she knew that her father’s situation had deteriorated from the last time she’d seen him.
The three girls helped their grandfather into his wheelchair. He wanted to walk in with his cane, but the snow and ice prevented that, so the girls listened to him mumble and curse these ‘damn Michigan winters’ as they pushed him inside.
The place was dressed in festive gear, with families, just like hers, here to spend Christmas morning with their loved ones. Their faces looked just like Betty’s she supposed, sad and anxious.
She got it. Her dad’s disease was heartbreaking.
Nurse Janet greeted the girls with a smile and a hug for Herschel.
“How is he?” Gramps asked.
Nurse Janet was quiet for a few seconds and kept her hands busy fussing with Gramps scarf. “He’s a wee bit agitated. I told him that his family was coming for breakfast, and we’ve got him settled in the main room if you’d like to follow me.” She glanced up at Betty, a warm smile on her face. “Congratulations on your wedding. It’s been the talk of the town.”
“Thank you,” Betty replied, wheeling her grandfather in behind her sisters. They headed toward the main room, three dark haired women who drew the eyes of everyone there. They were used to it, of course, the attention was something they’d had their entire lives. Wasn’t often you’d see three identical women all at once. But right now, as she spied her father sitting at a table in the corner, Betty wanted nothing more than for the five of them to be alone, without prying eyes.
She cleared away the lump in her throat and pasted a smile on her face as she stopped in front of their father.
“Mr. Barker,” Nurse Janet said softly. “Your father and your girls are here.”
Trent Barker glanced up at the sound of her voice, his eyes moving over each of them. Throat tight, Betty waited, just as she knew Gramps and her sisters did, for Trent’s eyes to light up. For some sort of recognition.
But there was nothing. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just looked at them blankly. The girls sat down beside him while Herschel attempted to cajole his son into conversation.
After a while, they gave up. Nurse Janet brought them bacon and eggs and homefries. Betty helped her father eat, while Bobbi and Billie kept his blanket around him.
The same scene played out around them, families connecting or at the very least, trying to connect on a day when family meant everything.
When it was time for Nurse Janet to take Trent back to his room, each of the girls kissed their father goodbye. Betty watched, a huge lump in her throat, as Herschel shook his son’s hand and patted Trent on the shoulder.
They left the facility and settled back into the Suburban, Christmas carols playing in the background as Bobbi headed back to town. The ride was silent. Somber.
Bobbi pulled up in front of the carriage house, and Betty paused, hand on the door. “He seems good,” Betty said softly. “I mean, even though he doesn’t know us, he seems good.”
She slid from the truck and watched a single snowflake drift in the air until it landed on her arm. The snowflake glistened brightly for just a moment, and then began to melt until it was nothing more than a drop of moisture.
Such is life, she thought. Everyone and everything had a beginning, a middle and an end. “It’s up to us what we do with it.”
“What was that?” Herschel asked.
Betty smiled at her gramps. “I love you.”
“Well I know that.”
She glanced up at her sisters. “I’m pregnant by the way.”
Bobbi nodded and turned to Billie. “Told you it wasn’t the flu. I’ll take that fifty bucks.”
Betty laughed. “Merry Christmas girls, I’ll see you in a few hours.”
“Don’t be too late,” Bobbi said, putting the truck into gear. “It’s your turn to carve the turkey this year.”
Betty frowned. “No it isn’t. I did it last year.”
“No,” Herschel replied. “I did.”
Billie started to giggle. “Did we even have a turkey last year? I thought it burnt, and we ended up getting take out.”