The Christmas Clock and A Song For My Mother - Kat Martin Page 0,2

their purchases, and Doris watched with only a small twinge of jealousy as the boy looked up and smiled so sweetly at his grandmother.

When Doris had married Floyd at thirty-four, she was already too old to have a child, or at least she had thought so at the time. Floyd, whose two boys by a previous marriage were living with their mother in Florida, didn't really care. Occasionally, Doris wondered if, all those years ago, she had made the right decision but deep down she knew that she was never cut out to raise a child.

Grandmother and grandson finished their treats and got up from the little round table. Doris waved good-bye as they tossed their used waxed paper and napkins into the trash can and walked out the door. She thought of Teddy and the mother he had lost four years ago, the reason he now lived with Lottie. If he lost his grandmother as well...

She shook her head, worried what the boy's future might hold.

Lottie exchanged places with her grandson on the sidewalk, positioning herself between him and the light passage of Dreyerville traffic on Main Street. At seventy-one, Lottie never would have suspected she would be raising an eight-year-old boy, though it shouldn't have surprised her.

Her only daughter, Wilma, had never been the responsible sort. In her early teens, Wilma had run away from home more than once. She missed school and started smoking in secret when she was fourteen. Lottie found her drunk the first time two years later. The girl had graduated high school by the sheer force of Lottie's will, though she never went on to college as Lottie had hoped.

Instead, at the age of thirty-seven, after two failed marriages and a string of deadbeat, live-in boyfriends, Wilma had wound up pregnant by the married man she was dating. Four years later, after drinking and partying with a friend, she had lost control of her car on her way home and died when she hit a tree.

Lottie had wound up with Teddy but he wasn't a burden. The boy had become the joy of her life.

As they walked along the sidewalk, she felt his small hand in hers and smiled. Glancing ahead, her steps began to slow and Teddy came to a halt beside her. Both of them looked into the window of Tremont's Antiques, a favorite place to visit on their Saturday morning outings. Today, they didn't go in but Lottie could see the small Victorian hand-painted clock she had been admiring for nearly a year.

“It's still there, Gramma.”

“Yes, I see it is.” Lottie loved clocks. She owned four beautiful antique clocks she had purchased over the years and a big grandfather clock her late husband, Chester, had bought for her on their fortieth wedding anniversary.

But this little clock was special. It reminded her of the one her mother had on the wall in the kitchen when she was a little girl. She used to sit at the old oak table and watch the hands move over the face while her mother baked cookies. The clock at Tremont's reminded her of the happy days of her childhood, memories that were rapidly fading.

Lottie's chest tightened with sudden despair. Something terrible was happening to her, something she couldn't fight and simply could not stop.

Two years ago, she had been diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. At first, the signs were subtle: misplacing objects, forgetting the date right after she had looked at the calendar, not remembering little words like cat or comb, saying another word in its place. Worried, she had gone to see her longtime family physician, Dr. Waller. He had referred her to a doctor named Davis, who specialized in Alzheimer's cases.

Several visits that included a medical history of her family, a physical examination, a brain scan, and a mental status evaluation revealed the truth. She had a very progressive form of Alzheimer's, a type of dementia that destroyed brain cells and robbed the mind of memory. She could expect the symptoms to worsen at a very rapid pace and she needed to be prepared. Eventually, the disease would kill her.

Lottie looked down at Teddy, who was staring up at her with big, worried, brown eyes.

“Gramma? Are you all right?”

How long had she been standing there? She had no idea. She managed a smile for Teddy. “I'm fine, sweetheart. Why don't we go on home?”

Teddy looked relieved. Lottie gazed off down the street, which suddenly seemed less familiar. Their house was located two blocks farther