Island Girl Read Online Free Page A

moved me around to the other side of the desk, sat me in the chair. “I need a drink. Do you want one?”
    “Something red. Something I wouldn’t buy for myself.” I flopped back in the chair, told myself to concentrate. There was a reason I was there. I was sure of it. I crossed my legs and my foot nudged a purse under the chair. My purse. The one with my notebook inside.
    While Mark poured us both a glass of something red, I took out the notebook, read the first line. Find Liz. Of course. Find Liz. I gave myself a mental slap. Stay on track, Ruby.
    He set a glass on the desk in front of me. I raised it and sniffed. Pomegranate juice. Definitely red. Definitely something I wouldn’t buy for myself. I should have known.
    He carried his own glass around to his side of the desk. “Okay, be honest. What has gotten into you today?”
    “Today, nothing. But last week ...” I closed the notebook and set it on my lap. “Last week was another story completely.”
    “Go on,” he said more gently than I’d expected. But then he had always been gentle, hadn’t he? Even on the day I threw him out. If only I could remember why I’d done that.
    “Ruby,” he said. “Tell me what happened last week.”
    “Last week. Yes. That’s why I’m here.” I drew in a quick breath and said the words out loud for the first time since the diagnosis. “I have early onset Alzheimer’s.”
    If I’d hoped for a feeling of relief, a lightening of the load perhaps, I was sorely disappointed. The telling had only made it more real, more frightening, more final. It didn’t help that Mark’s face drained of color. Or that he shook his head and moistened his lips. I watched the horror leave his eyes, saw comprehension take its place, and in a flash, I became something new in those eyes, something dreadful. An object of pity.
    He tried to say something, but his first attempt failed. He couldn’t find the words, sounding much like I imagine I’ll sound in a year or two. “Are you sure?” he managed at last. “Have you been tested?”
    “Extensively. The actual diagnosis was a year ago. I’ve been on medication since and it seemed to be working fine until a few weeks ago. So I went back for a checkup, thinking all I needed was an adjustment on the meds. It hadn’t been that long, after all. But apparently I have the form that progresses rapidly. This time next year, I probably won’t know you.”
    “This makes no sense. You’re too young.”
    “Like I said, it’s early onset.”
    “But no one in your family had it.”
    “My mother died young. Who knows what might have happened later? And I’m sure now that Grandma Lucy had it, but no one knew. We just thought she was old and doddery.”
    He reached across the desk to take my hand. “Ruby, I’m sorry.”
    “Me too.” I looked down at our hands. His were huge, paws really, made for working outside, for cutting wood and tilling soil, not for pushing papers around on a desk. He’d always dreamed of going north, as far as Alaska, to work on the land and see justice done. But he’d been tied to the city in his youth. Tied by an unaccountable love for me and my daughters, and I couldn’t bring myself to pull away just yet. “As much as I appreciate your sympathy, you don’t have to worry about me, because I don’t plan to stick it out.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    I smiled and ran my thumb across his. “Don’t play dumb, Mark. You know how I feel about this, how I’ve always felt.”
    “Ruby, if you expect me to take you out and shoot you—”
    “I don’t, so you can relax.” I sighed and took my hand back, knowing I shouldn’t be weak, shouldn’t lean, and more important, I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself. “Just because I don’t want to hang around for the long good-bye doesn’t mean I’d ask you or anyone else to do it for me. I’ll take care of that end of things while I still can.”
    “You’re being hasty. You need to explore alternatives. There