CHAPTER 1: EVICTED
“I can’t stand having Dad here, Bill,” she said with resignation.
Jarring words that wrenched Jonathan from sleep.
Dressed in drab flannel pajamas, he maneuvered his wheelchair forward so he could peer through the cracked-open door. His brows knitted as he eavesdropped on the simmering living room debate—hurtful words not intended for his ears. Or were they?
“Zelle, keep your voice down,” Bill pleaded. “He’ll hear you,”
“I don’t care.” Giselle smothered sobs. “He needs a grip on reality!”
“Honey, tell me what happened.” Bill wrapped a consoling arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“He’s just so…stubborn. Before Mom left us, he was easy to get along with. Then, he pulled away from everybody. It was hard, but at least I understood what he was going through. We all took her loss hard. We all did, Bill.” She buried her face in her hands as tears flowed.
“Dad could’ve avoided that stupid stroke, but he wouldn’t take anybody’s advice! Three months in that hospital—never knowing if he would live till the next day or not. Now he’s for all practical purposes an invalid. And we’re supposed to just pick up the pieces? Whenever we try to help him, all he does is lash out in bitterness. At least when he kept to himself he was bearable. But lately, he’s reverting to the nasty, cranky man Mom used to joke about—the man he was before they got married.”
Yes, Maria had tamed a raging bull. Jonathan’s throat tightened as he remembered his loving wife. How I miss her. But you, Zelle—we made sure you never had to go through the agony of my youth. Now you’re turning on me when I need you most.
“Do you know how hard it is watching him slip downhill like this? He calls with that bell, but by the time I can get there, it’s usually too late. Do you know how many times I have to change him because he loses it? It’s like Tanner and Kolby when they were two. And all he does is take it out on us. Even the boys are scared of him now.”
A direct stab to the heart.
“We can’t keep going on like this. We’ve got to think about our family. Bill, he’s got to go.”
Got to go. In Jonathan’s mind, he pictured someone shouting into the mouth of a deep mountain cave. The words chased after him, haunting him, squeezing life from his soul.
“What do you mean he’s got to go?” Bill argued. “It’s only been five months. What happened to waiting a year?”
“I’ve been talking to Sandra Brooks about Green Gardens, an assisted living community in Southern Florida,” she said with finality. “Her mother is a resident there. Dad will receive the finest possible care.”
Jonathan’s already dubious future crashed as he contemplated that living arrangement.
How could she do this to me? his mind raged. I can’t win—I’m trapped. Trapped in a weak body. Trapped in a house that used to be mine. Shoot, I’m fifty-eight…not ninety-eight!
Giving the door everything his weakened fist could give, he punched it, making it timidly swing open and bump against the living room wall. Bill and Giselle stared, jaws dropped.
“Kicking me out of my own home?” Jonathan shouted. “Quite a daughter I have!” Although the stroke had weakened his vocal cords, his words carried all the biting sting of a sharp sword. “I remember a few years—just a couple—when I was the one taking care of you.”
“Dad,” Giselle’s tone was placating, “we bought this house to help you out. You know that.” She grabbed Bill’s arm and hurried around the sofa to Jonathan’s bedroom doorway, her expression regretful.
“I don’t care,” he fumed, raising a forbidding hand. Giselle stopped short. “Just send me to Florida. I’ll be glad to get out of your hair. I’ll go as far away as it takes so you’ll never have to trouble yourself with the old man again!”
“I can’t stand having Dad here, Bill,” she said with resignation.
Jarring words that wrenched Jonathan from sleep.
Dressed in drab flannel pajamas, he maneuvered his wheelchair forward so he could peer through the cracked-open door. His brows knitted as he eavesdropped on the simmering living room debate—hurtful words not intended for his ears. Or were they?
“Zelle, keep your voice down,” Bill pleaded. “He’ll hear you,”
“I don’t care.” Giselle smothered sobs. “He needs a grip on reality!”
“Honey, tell me what happened.” Bill wrapped a consoling arm around his wife’s shoulders.
“He’s just so…stubborn. Before Mom left us, he was easy to get along with. Then, he pulled away from everybody. It was hard, but at least I understood what he was going through. We all took her loss hard. We all did, Bill.” She buried her face in her hands as tears flowed.
“Dad could’ve avoided that stupid stroke, but he wouldn’t take anybody’s advice! Three months in that hospital—never knowing if he would live till the next day or not. Now he’s for all practical purposes an invalid. And we’re supposed to just pick up the pieces? Whenever we try to help him, all he does is lash out in bitterness. At least when he kept to himself he was bearable. But lately, he’s reverting to the nasty, cranky man Mom used to joke about—the man he was before they got married.”
Yes, Maria had tamed a raging bull. Jonathan’s throat tightened as he remembered his loving wife. How I miss her. But you, Zelle—we made sure you never had to go through the agony of my youth. Now you’re turning on me when I need you most.
“Do you know how hard it is watching him slip downhill like this? He calls with that bell, but by the time I can get there, it’s usually too late. Do you know how many times I have to change him because he loses it? It’s like Tanner and Kolby when they were two. And all he does is take it out on us. Even the boys are scared of him now.”
A direct stab to the heart.
“We can’t keep going on like this. We’ve got to think about our family. Bill, he’s got to go.”
Got to go. In Jonathan’s mind, he pictured someone shouting into the mouth of a deep mountain cave. The words chased after him, haunting him, squeezing life from his soul.
“What do you mean he’s got to go?” Bill argued. “It’s only been five months. What happened to waiting a year?”
“I’ve been talking to Sandra Brooks about Green Gardens, an assisted living community in Southern Florida,” she said with finality. “Her mother is a resident there. Dad will receive the finest possible care.”
Jonathan’s already dubious future crashed as he contemplated that living arrangement.
How could she do this to me? his mind raged. I can’t win—I’m trapped. Trapped in a weak body. Trapped in a house that used to be mine. Shoot, I’m fifty-eight…not ninety-eight!
Giving the door everything his weakened fist could give, he punched it, making it timidly swing open and bump against the living room wall. Bill and Giselle stared, jaws dropped.
“Kicking me out of my own home?” Jonathan shouted. “Quite a daughter I have!” Although the stroke had weakened his vocal cords, his words carried all the biting sting of a sharp sword. “I remember a few years—just a couple—when I was the one taking care of you.”
“Dad,” Giselle’s tone was placating, “we bought this house to help you out. You know that.” She grabbed Bill’s arm and hurried around the sofa to Jonathan’s bedroom doorway, her expression regretful.
“I don’t care,” he fumed, raising a forbidding hand. Giselle stopped short. “Just send me to Florida. I’ll be glad to get out of your hair. I’ll go as far away as it takes so you’ll never have to trouble yourself with the old man again!”
