The Barn: Chapter Five

By Doug Campbell And John Casey
Keith and John arrived at Maple Grove, an assisted living facility with a decent view of the Connecticut River Valley. They walked through the entrance and signed into the guest logbook, then proceeded to her room. John had gotten to know most of the caregivers at the facility and appreciated that they cared for her so tenderly. “Hi Mom!” Keith bent down on one knee, leaned into the bed, and carefully hugged her. He touched her temple gingerly, near the angry red line stitched up from her fall, then stroked her thinned, gray hair. She turned her head and gave him a big smile, clutching a crucifix tightly to her chest with one hand. Keith gave her a kiss on the cheek. “It is so great to see you, Mom. I’ve missed you very much,” said Keith. Unfortunately, her only response was the unwavering, but now distant smile. Keith continued to try to talk to her. Keith went on, compassionately. “Mom, I am so very sorry I haven’t been here for you and John. It was wrong of me, and there’s not much I can do now except to apologize and promise it won’t happen again. I love you and hope you can forgive me.” She stared, straight ahead. Her smile was gone now. “Mom, say something if you can,” John gently urged. “It’s your son, my brother Keith—he misses you very much.” They talked to her for a while, both hoping in their own way that somehow, she was hearing them. Then they left, down the hallway to a coffee stand near the cafeteria. They settled in at an antiseptic, white Formica table with two Styrofoam cups of a less than satisfying, weak blend. “I can’t believe she isn’t saying anything at all,” Keith whispered cautiously. There were several other tenants nearby. He didn’t want them to be offended. “I told you. She’s gotten a lot worse since you last saw her. I do think she recognizes you. But for some reason, it isn’t processing. Whatever part of her brain that’s in charge of reacting or speaking, it’s just not working,” said John. “I have to ask her.” “What?” asked John. “I have to ask her about Gramp. Maybe that will cause her to say something,” said Keith. John sighed resignedly. “I guess it can’t hurt. She’s not going to say anything, anyway.” Then he looked at Keith sternly. “Do not bring up Gramp’s death.” They picked up their coffees and went back down the hall to her room. She was laying there just as before, still smiling. John started in again, with some small talk, then gave his brother an opening. Keith walked to the foot of the bed, so he was sure he was at least in the path of her gaze. He locked his eyes on hers. “Mom, what really happened to Gramp? Gramp Conway. What happened to him? I have been thinking about him. I never believed he fell down those stairs.” April stiffened immediately, gipping her crucifix tighter. John looked at him angrily, then back to her, concerned at the unexpected change in her mood. Keith did not want to lose whatever attention he might have captured. “You told us a story when I was seven years old, about what happened to Gramp. How he died. Was that the whole story? Is there anything else?” “Keith, STOP,” John whispered forcefully. But she remained silent. She didn’t have much time left. And when she finally died, with her would go any chance the brothers had at understanding more about the man that friends and neighbors would describe as 100% American. Friendly, caring. Rough, but good looking. And whether or not his death was truly an accident. A tear began to form at the corner of his eye. It was a combination of seeing his Mom like this, and realizing he would never know anything more about his grandfather. Perhaps it was his own fault. If he hadn’t left, or if he’d returned home to visit from time to time, things might have been different. He could have spent time with her when she was still lucid. He could have learned all there was to learn about his grandfather. Instead, he became self-absorbed and distant, too caught up in his career and travels to check in on her as her health declined. He’d ignored his brother as well. The two most important people in his life. John and Keith looked up as the floor caregiver knocked at the open door and entered the room. He said “hello,” nodded curtly at them, then began readying April’s room for the day. “Mom, we’ll be back tomorrow,” said John. “Keith has to head back to Texas in the morning.” She turned her head toward him, ever so slightly, and smiled again. Back at the house, Keith got out of the car pensively. “I’m going to take a walk around the property. See what’s changed,” he said. “Do what you want to do, you’re good at it,” replied John. “I still can’t believe you brought up Gramp’s death. You said you wouldn’t. I’ll be in the house.” “Sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have,” Keith acknowledged. “It’s fine. I’ll put a pot of coffee on. That crap at Maple Grove didn’t do it for me.”

© John Casey & Doug Campbell 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED; Published with permission (PHiR Publishing, San Antonio, TX)