beautiful boy is home,” Jennelle murmured, tears leaking from her eyes. “It’s been too long, son.”
The mild admonishment landed like a pair of cement boots and he had to force himself not to get defensive. “Not from choice, Mama,” he lied. “But I’m here now so let’s focus on that, okay?”
She smiled and weakly squeezed his hand. “Absolutely. My boy is home. That’s all that matters.”
In spite of being irritated as hell at Trace, he winced at their mother’s exclusion of her other son. She must be pissed because she wouldn’t even glance Trace’s way. And if there was any confusion as to just how she felt, Jennelle clarified by saying to Trace, “You can go, now. I’d like to speak with the one child who hasn’t betrayed me.”
“Ahhh, c’mon, Mom,” Trace groaned, slapping his hand on his thigh. “Don’t start that crap again.”
She closed her eyes. “Make him go away, Wade.”
Wade sighed, caught in a bad spot. He looked to Trace, beseeching him to give them a few minutes, and Trace muttered something unflattering under his breath but ducked out.
Once they were alone, Wade said, “Mama, aren’t you being a bit harsh? You know Trace and Miranda are worried about you.”
“Judases, the both of them,” Jennelle said. “Kicked me out of my own home. Never thought I’d see the day when my own flesh and blood turned on me like that.” A tear appeared at the corner of her eye, and Wade wiped it away gently. She smiled gratefully. “I know you’d never do something like that. You and Simone were always the ones who were on my side. No matter what.”
He bit his tongue. He loved his mother dearly but she had a habit of being manipulative when it served her. Apparently, that hadn’t changed. “Mama, tell me about what Adult Protective Services said. I don’t understand how they could kick you from your home if there wasn’t cause.”
She withdrew her hand and shook her head, bewildered. “I don’t know. It had to be Miranda’s influence. She’s so tight with those government types. She’s been on a crusade to oust me from my home for months and she finally accomplished it!” Jennelle gasped, wincing with pain, and Wade knew he’d have to see for himself what was going on.
“It’s okay, Mama...we’ll get this figured out. I promise.”
“Bless you, son,” she said, her eyes watering. “I feel so much better knowing you’re home. I’ve been so alone. Being attacked by your own children will do that to you.”
Wade didn’t believe that Trace and Miranda had deliberately ousted their mother, which meant there had to be more to the story than Jennelle was sharing. However, as weak as she was, now was not the time to drag it out of her.
He smiled and patted Jennelle’s hand gently. “I want you to rest. Trace is going to take me to the house and I’m going to pick up your car to drive while I’m in town. Is that okay with you?”
“Of course, honey. No sense in spending good money if you don’t have to. That’s my frugal boy.” Her voice hardened. “But don’t you let either of those turncoats into my house. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mama. I hear you. Now you rest. You hear me?”
Her eyelids closed on a relieved sigh, and Wade left the room to find Trace. He found Trace and Miranda talking with another woman in the lobby.
Miranda saw him first and motioned for him to join them. “Wade, perfect timing. This is Morgan O’Hare. She’s been assigned Mom’s case through Adult Protective Services.”
He frowned, his gaze snagging on the attractive woman. She stopped talking to Miranda to smile at Wade, and he was struck by how blue her eyes were from behind elegant, dark-framed glasses. She came forward with her hand outstretched. “Hello. I’m Dr. O’Hare but you can call me Morgan if you like. I can appreciate the sensitive nature of the situation and I can assure you I will do my best to see that your mother gets the care she needs.”
Wade accepted the perfunctory handshake but wasn’t quite clear what was happening. “I don’t understand...why is my mother being evaluated?” He looked to his siblings for answers but it was Dr. O’Hare who answered.
“Wade, because of the unique situation surrounding your mother’s heart attack and the state of your mother’s house, APS feels it’s prudent to assess your mother’s mental state to find if she’s competent to assume responsibility for her care.”
“Whoa, whoa...wait a minute...are you saying that my mother’s mental health is being questioned simply because she’s fallen down on her housekeeping?” he asked, horrified at this turn of events. It was one thing to deal with their family’s problems internally and quite another to have complete strangers poking around. His family had suffered plenty of that when Simone had died. Seemed everyone had had a reason to poke, stare or flap their gums about business that was none of theirs. “I think we all just need to take a step back and stop overreacting.”
Miranda glared. “You know it’s not that. As if we’d be so petty as to go through all of this over a little clutter? Honestly, Wade, pull your head out of your butt for just a minute and hear what Dr. O’Hare is saying.”
The pretty doctor smiled in spite of the tension and said, “A situation like this is rife with tension within the family. I can suggest a good family therapist if you’d like.”
“I don’t need a therapist. My mother doesn’t need a therapist,” he growled at the doctor and jerked his thumb at his siblings. “You two...may I have a moment, please?”
Miranda sent a quick look of apology to the doctor as they followed Wade a few feet away. “Don’t make this harder than it already is,” she said to Wade. “You haven’t seen the house so you don’t know what we’ve been dealing with. What I’ve been dealing with! I knew something like this was going to happen and I hate to say that it sucks to be right. That house is not the house you remember—because it’s buried under a half ton of mess!”
“Settle down. I think we’re jumping the gun a bit,” Wade said, trying to rein his own temper. “Let’s just stop a minute and assess before we run off half-cocked, making decisions that have long-reaching consequences.”
“How much more of a consequence needs to happen before you realize what’s going on? Our mother is a hoarder. She nearly died in her own house because the paramedics couldn’t get to her,” Trace added in a harsh whisper. “Remember how I asked if you were going to be part of the problem or the solution? Well, now’s the time to decide.”
“And I told you I’m here,” Wade reminded him, trying hard not to clench his teeth. The Sinclairs had never been accused of suffering a shortage of stubbornness and that stubbornness was in full swing among all three. “But I’m not about to be reprimanded by the two of you for my supposed shortcomings. We have a situation that needs to be taken care of, so I suggest we do it without causing further embarrassment to our family.”
Miranda flushed and nodded but she looked as if razors were stuck in her throat. “Fine. But you have to accept that Mom needs help and has needed that help for some time now.”
“Perhaps. I am reserving judgment until I have seen for myself this supposed condemned situation at our parents’ home.”
Trace
