Jameson (In the Company of Snipers #22) - Irish Winters Page 0,77

expected he’d need to know. As in how it interrupted the communication process in a person’s brain by killing the neurons, thus destroying the delicate synapsis where messages were passed between the brain to the nerves that controlled its victims’ bodies and minds. It was Mother Nature’s ultimate hacker, a devilish worm bent on reducing even the brightest, most capable men and women, into blithering, forgetful vegetables. There was no cure, only meds that delayed the inevitable.

Mel’s memory was shot. He hadn’t been able to solve the simplest problems that Dr. Denton posed. Could barely tie his shoes. It was then that Alex noticed the grimy button-up shirt he wore was buttoned wrong. He kept asking when Sissy was going to have her baby. Alex stopped correcting him after the third time. There was no sense getting mad anymore. Mel wouldn’t remember that, either.

He’d already forgotten Lexie, which broke Alex’s heart in a way he couldn’t explain and didn’t want to analyze. Yes, Mel had cataracts, and he’d always had poor judgement, but that didn’t explain why he struggled to sit upright once he’d climbed onto the exam table. He wasn’t drunk. Doc Denton explained then how Alzheimer’s also caused problems with a person’s spatial relationships, as in how far the floor beneath Mel really was and how near the wall that he kept leaning toward for support, wasn’t.

Denton put a firm hand on Mel’s shoulder to keep him from falling off the table. Which caused an unlikely acid dump in Alex’s gut. He should’ve been the one to reach for his father. Like the never-ending mantra stuck inside his head, he should’ve been there.

But son of a bitch. His old man really was sick. He’d have to live with Alex, Kelsey, and their kids. He’d be part of their immediate family from now on, not how Alex saw their golden years going. Not that he and Kelsey were in their golden years, but he had dreams, damn it. He’d planned for a brighter future than nursing his old man. They were supposed to travel. He’d always wanted to show Kelsey the world.

But worse…? Alex had thrown this old fart out of his life and into the street just a day ago. Had never wanted to see him again. Still didn’t. His heart hadn’t changed, not one whit, not where Mel was concerned. But because of Patrick Bradley Stewart? More because Alex had always strived to follow in Gramps’ footsteps, he wouldn’t dishonor the kindly gentleman’s memory now by turning his only son away. Who knew? Maybe Alex would come to like Mel someday. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. He might’ve gotten a little sensitive lately, but he wasn’t an idiot. Neither was he that forgiving.

“How do you explain his knowing how to locate me after all these years? My landline’s not listed, and I never told him about my TEAM.” Or my wife or my life.

Dr. Denton wore compassion well. “Alzheimer’s moments of clarity will prove the most challenging. Your father is clearly in the middle stage of the disease. He knows something’s wrong. He may even get combative at the slightest conversation or comment. Sometimes, he’ll remember important details, like how to find his only son or tie his shoes. Other times, he won’t have a clue who you are or where he is. Eventually, he’ll forget everyone who’s important to him.”

“That’s a damned short list,” Alex grumbled. Mel had long forgotten the people who’d been most important, but Alex doubted Mel would ever forget himself. His failing memory might explain why he’d called Kelsey Sissy, though. Might also explain why he’d claimed he’d been a SEAL. Or it might not. That was the nightmare when dealing with a habitual liar and a con. How did one know when to believe them? Guess when Alzheimer’s moved in.

While Alex talked with Doc Denton, Mel sat on the end of that table looking around the exam room and kicking his feet like a five-year-old waiting for a treat just because he was in a doctor’s office. His illness explained his ratty clothes and broken-down shoes. The fact that he hadn’t showered recently. Or shaved regularly. Or used a toothbrush.

The steady flood of geriatric knowledge now slapping Alex in the face, and all that it meant for his future, curdled his blood. Because of Mel, everything had changed in the wink of an old man’s wandering eye. From now on, Alex would be the go-to guy for Mel’s care. He