Winter Garden

She reached into the pockets and found the pierogies, still hot from the oven, wrapped in greasy paper towels. What the hell?

“They’re for Anya,” Mom said.

“I know they’re yours,” Meredith said, frowning. “I’ll leave them right here for you, okay?” she said, putting them in the ceramic bowl on the entry table. “Come on, Mom. ”

She led her mother out of the house and into the SUV.

“Just lean back, Mom. Go to sleep. You must be exhausted. ” She started up the car and drove to town, parking in one of the angled spots in front of the Cashmere Medical Group’s brick office.

Inside, Georgia Edwards was at the desk, looking as perky and beautiful as she had in her cheerleading days at Cashmere High. “Hey, Mere,” she said, smiling.

“Hi, Georgia. Did Daisy get an appointment for my mom?”

“You know Jim. He’d do anything for you Whitsons. Take her down to Exam A. ”

As they approached the exam room, Mom seemed to realize suddenly where they were. “This is ridiculous,” she said, yanking her arm away.

“Disagree all you want,” Meredith said, “but we’re seeing the doctor. ”

Her mother straightened, lifted her chin, and walked briskly to the first exam room. There, she took the only seat for herself.

Meredith followed her inside and closed the door.

A few moments later, Dr. James Burns walked into the room, smiling. Bald as a cue ball, with compassionate gray eyes, he made Meredith think of her father. They’d been golf partners for years; Jim’s father had been one of her father’s best friends. He hugged Meredith tightly; in the embrace was their shared grief and a silent I miss him, too.

“So,” he said when he stepped back. “How are you today, Anya?”

“I am fine, James. Thank you. Meredith is jumpy. You know this. ”

“Do you mind if I examine you?” he asked.

“Of course it is fine,” Mom said. “But unnecessary. ”

Jim conducted an ordinary flu-type examination. When he finished with that, he made a few notes on her chart and then said, “What day is it, Anya?”

“January thirty-first, 2001,” she said, her gaze steady and clear. “Wednesday. We have a new president. George Bush, the younger. And Olympia is the state capital. ”

Jim paused. “How are you, Anya? Really?”

“My heart beats. I breathe. I go to sleep and I wake up. ”

“Maybe you should see someone,” he said gently.

“Who?”

“A doctor who will help you talk about your loss. ”

“Death is not something to talk about. You Americans believe words change a thing. They do not. ”

He nodded.

“My daughter needs help, perhaps. ”

“Okay,” he said, making a few more notes on the chart. “Why don’t you go to the waiting room while I speak to her?”

Mom left the room immediately.

“There’s something wrong with her,” Meredith said as soon as they were alone. “She’s confused a lot. She’s hardly sleeping. Today she put her lunch in her pockets and talked about herself in the third person. She’s constantly worried about a lion, and she called me Olga. I think she’s confusing the fairy tales with real life. Last night I heard her reciting one of them to herself . . . as if Dad were listening. You know she’s always been depressed in the winter, but this is something else. Something’s wrong. Could she have Alzheimer’s?”