The Christmas Clock and A Song For My Mother - Kat Martin Page 0,24
her cheek and handed the letter to Syl with a shaking hand. “You finish it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.
Syl swallowed past the lump in her throat.
Tell Teddy how much I love him. Tell him he is the light of my life and always will be. Tell him to remember me, but please don't burden him with my illness. Thank you for being such a dear, dear friend. Lottie.
Syl looked up, her own eyes moist with tears. “The name of her bank and the account numbers are written at the bottom of the page. I think she meant for you to manage the money. I imagine she must have made some sort of arrangement with the bank.”
Doris took the letter and reread the words. “We'll get her in-home care,” she said, “someone who'll be good to her. It sounds like she'll be able to afford it.”
“That's a good idea. I'm sure she'd rather stay in her own home.”
The officer spoke up just then. Syl had almost forgotten he was there.
“We've got your name and address, Mrs. Culver. Give me your phone number and I'll keep you posted on the boy.”
Doris did as he asked and then the policeman was gone.
The last thing Syl saw was little Teddy's face pressed again the window of the patrol car as he waved good-bye to Joe.
It was not a good week for anyone. Teddy was staying at the county facility for orphans and children who were victims of abuse. Doris had hired a woman named Phyllis Williams to live at the Sparks's house and take care of Lottie but Lottie wasn't dealing with her new companion well.
“I don't need anyone to take care of me,” she grumbled on a daily basis. “I can take care of myself!”
Doris spent hours talking to her, reminding her about the Alzheimer's and what was happening to her, repeating the same information again and again.
By the end of that first week, something must have clicked, at least for a while, because the complaining had mostly stopped. Lottie had asked about Teddy at least a thousand times and been told he was doing just fine. No one had the courage to tell her he was living in a county facility, soon to be placed in a foster home, even though Lottie wouldn't have remembered.
According to Doris, Joe had gone down to see Teddy every day since the boy had been taken from Lottie's home. He had filed an application to become Teddy's foster parent but with his criminal record, he held little hope. Syl was surprised when she spotted Joe's Mustang pulling up in front of the house. Her nerves kicked in even more, when a few minutes later, she heard him climb the stairs and knock at her door.
With a steadying breath, she walked over and pulled it open. “Hello, Joe.”
“Hi...” He stepped into the living room, though she hadn't thought to invite him in.
“I…uh…know I should have called but every time I thought about it, I lost my nerve.”
“That's all right. I just got home from church. I didn't have anything planned.”
“Presbyterian, right? I saw you there with Doris.”
“You were there this morning? You go to church?”
He shrugged those wide, quarterback shoulders. “I started after I got out of prison. I don't go all the time. I sort of deal with God in my own way, but still... it's nice once in a while. Lately, I figured I could use the help.”
“With Teddy, you mean.”
“Yeah.”
“I didn't see you there.”
“I was standing at the back. I can slip out easier that way.”
He walked farther into the living room, took a look at the plants she had placed on tables in front of the windows, the flowered, fringed throws she had tossed over the old sofa and chairs, the water-colors she had bought at a flea market in Chicago, had framed, and hung on the walls.
“I knew you'd be good at this kind of thing ... decorating a place, making it feel like home.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah.” He looked over at a photo of the lake she had taken last winter in Chicago. “Nice picture. You take it?”
She nodded. “I was just going over the ones I took out at the lake. The colors were so pretty that day.... I thought I might have a couple of them blown up and framed.” She glanced down, a little embarrassed. “It's kind of a hobby of mine.”
Joe started walking toward the table, where she had set the photos out to study