to be able to hold them for another hour. You’re a good nurse. What’s your name?”
“I’m Teresa, and you are Miss Janie, right?” she answered.
“I’m Sarah Jane Jackson. I’m sixteen. The father of my babies is in Mexico now. He’s a sweet boy, but I didn’t love him. I’m glad I didn’t marry him,” Miss Janie whispered. “I don’t want to get married—not ever. I don’t want a man to run my life for me. I want to do that for myself.”
“I understand,” Teresa said, but she didn’t really. Miss Janie had expressed Teresa’s thoughts exactly about not wanting a man to run her life, but what was all this about giving birth? When Miss Janie sat down on the edge of the bed, Teresa knelt in front of her and removed her bedroom slippers. “Are you cold? Do you want me to cover you with that nice fluffy throw?”
“No. I want Aunt Ruthie’s quilt.” Miss Janie pointed to a patchwork quilt draped over a rocking chair.
Teresa shook out the folds and covered Miss Janie with it. “There now. You rest, Sarah Jane, and I’ll be back to check on you a little later.”
“Thank you,” Miss Janie said. “You’re one of the good nurses. The one I had last night was really hateful.”
“I do my best.” Teresa tiptoed out of the bedroom and eased the door shut. When she got back to the kitchen, her food was cold, so she reheated it again in the microwave.
“Okay, Noah, you need to explain to me what’s happening here,” she said. “You didn’t mention anything about babies or tell me how bad she is when you offered me this job.”
Noah’s tired blue eyes met hers. He raked his fingertips through his dark-brown hair and squared his shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here to help me. Seems like she gets worse every hour, and there are some things I can’t do for her like you can. She’s got bone cancer that’s spread through her whole body and Alzheimer’s on top of that. The doctor has given her anywhere from four weeks to three months, but probably the end will come closer to the six-week mark. But there’s the possibility she might still be here at Christmas.”
“I know that.” Teresa brought her plate back to the table. “But what’s all this about babies?”
“When they first diagnosed her with Alzheimer’s, she called me.” Noah’s deep voice still made chills chase up and down her spine like it had when she’d met him for the first time. “She wanted to get everything out in the open, so she told me that she’d had twin daughters when she was sixteen. I thought she was already advanced in the dementia and only thinking that she’d given birth, but I followed the thread of what she told me and did some research. She was remembering that part right. She really did give birth to twin daughters when she was sixteen.”
“Why didn’t she keep them?” Teresa asked between bites.
“I did some research on that, too, and back then she wasn’t given a choice. Because she was a minor, her parents got to decide what happened. Her parents sent her to a home for unwed mothers in Dallas. She gave birth, and then they sent her here to live with her great-aunt Ruthie. From what little she’s told me through the years, she and Aunt Ruthie got along well, but down deep I don’t think Miss Janie ever got over giving those babies away. She begged me to find them for her, and I did. Unfortunately, they were both killed in a car wreck when they were twenty-five. She took the news hard, and then she started telling me to bring y’all home to her. Somehow she transferred all the feelings she had for those two little dark-haired daughters over to you and Kayla.”
Teresa finished off her breakfast. “She thought I was a nurse when I helped her into bed.”
“When she wakes up after her nap, she’s usually a little better,” Noah told her. “When she gets stimulated, she gets really angry at me. She’ll do the same with you. Don’t take it personally. It’s the disease. I’ve got a list of what to not mention when she’s not herself. We try not to say ‘remember,’ but instead ask her to tell us about when she was a certain age. So just don’t disagree with her, but try to steer her into another conversation.”