Page 90 of Upstate

I would have run if running were a choice I could make anymore. My heart raced but I kept my steps steady, knowing a single slip would leave two old women foundering in the woods instead of one. I aimed the flashlight along the length of wire until its white circle spotlit your terrified face.

“Evelyn, I see you!”

You squinted. “Hazel, is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. What are you doing out here?”

“I couldn’t find you. You were lost. I came to find you.”

You were shivering so hard I was afraid for the fillings in your teeth. I put your jacket over your trembling body and chafed your icy hands. “You’re the one who’s lost, baby.”

Angrily, you shook your head. “You didn’t come home from your mother’s house. You should have followed the wire. Why didn’t you follow the wire?”

Whether you’d been out in the woods for minutes or hours, I had no idea, but your slippered feet must have been chilled to the bone. I was cold, too, but I had the benefit of boots. I’d have given them to you and walked home barefoot as a penitent pilgrim if your feet weren’t two sizes bigger than mine. “Let’s follow it home, okay?”

“Okay, Hazel.”

You attempted a step, but your legs were stiff, the knees locked in place. Carrying you was obviously out of the question, but I wasn’t about to leave you behind. I ducked under your arm, shouldering as much of your weight as I could, but I needed you to move under your own steam.

“I’ll make us some hot coffee, Evelyn, how does that sound?”

“Coffee sounds good, Hazel.” You managed one step, then another. Walking warmed your joints, but our progress was excruciatingly slow. I never felt such a wave of relief as when I spotted our porch light and knew we’d made it home.

In the kitchen, I sat you by the fireplace with one of Lulu’s crocheted blankets across your lap. You always kept logs stacked in the hearth, so lighting a fire was as easy as striking a match. After replacing one of the oven knobs, I set the percolator on the stove.

“Coffee will be ready soon, baby.”

“You were lost in the woods,” you said, orange flames flickering in the black circles of your eyes. “I found you.”

“Yes, you did, baby.” I fussed with the blanket and kissed your cold forehead. “You always find me when I’m lost.”

When the coffee was ready, I put a hot cup in your hands. “There now, Evelyn, that’s better, isn’t it?”

“Better,” you repeated, your heavy lids beginning to droop.

“That’s right, darling,” I said, smoothing back your tangled hair. “All better now.”

That isn’t true, though, not anymore. Over the summer, you were at your best during those daylight hours in the barn surrounded by your beloved books. Plenty of people who popped into the shop couldn’t tell how far your disease had progressed. I was the one who saw you at sunset, when confusion descended in the hours before sleep. I was the one who saw you at dawn, when you needed help getting dressed. All of that I shouldered without complaint, my darling, knowing how much it meant to you to be here, in our home, on our land, with me. But now, as you doze in your favorite chair, long legs outstretched and feet warmed by the fire, I’m forced to admit Dr. Singh was right. I can’t take care of you by myself anymore.

Through the window, I watch stars being washed from the sky by the coming light of a new day. The world turns whether or not we’re ready for what comes next. Later this morning, I’ll put up the sign saying Red Barn Books is closed for the season. I’ll clean you up and bring you in for an appointment with Dr. Singh. While she examines you, you can tell her all about how you bravely ventured into the night to find me. While you’re getting dressed, I’ll let Dr. Singh know the time has come for that nursing home in Saratoga Springs she recommended. We took a tour a while back, do you remember? The staff were all so nice to us. I reserved a little apartment in the assisted living wing. We’ll be there together until you transition to the memory care unit, where I’ll visit you every day. You may forget my name, darling, but I have to believe my face will remain familiar to you.

When you wake up, I’ll give you this letter to read while I go upstairs to gather the documents we signed back in 1990, when we gave the trust between us the force of law. I don’t have a wedding ring or a marriage certificate to prove to the world you are mine, but I have your power of attorney and your health care proxy, too. I’ll tell the staff at the nursing home that we’re not just friends, that they’re to treat us as they would any married couple.

Because the truth, my darling, is that we have been wedded since the day you drove upstate to claim me as your own.

With all my love, forever and ever, Hazel

Chapter 45

Before going out to the bookshop, I call Tate Realty and tell Rhonda all about finding Hazel’s letters to Evelyn and the story they revealed about the McIntyre family. I tell her about the obituary, too, and how I figured out the man who walked my land’s boundary was Hazel’s great-nephew.

“Slow down, Audrey,” Rhonda says. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me Billy McIntyre’s grandson is there, with you, in Evelyn’s house?”

It’s my house now, but I don’t quibble. “He was. He had to go to Fort Edward for work. Sam was wondering, though, if it would be possible to see Hazel’s old house. You were their friend and you represented the trust, so I thought you might know who lives there now.”

“No one’s lived there since—” Rhonda catches herself. “The house is empty, but it’s not for sale. I have to contact the owner before I can show it to anyone. Are you both vaccinated?”

“We are, yeah.”