They had five days. Five days to prepare forty-three brunches and their hearts for whatever truth Lillian was finally ready to share. But Kate’s new approach was to stay in the moment. She didn’t want to focus on Lillian and how busy Sunday would be. Instead, she enjoyed the time with her siblings, and the very best pizza in Kennebunkport.
It was the Tuesday after Pop had been moved to Coastside Memory Care, and the inn felt wrong without him. Too quiet in the mornings without his confused wandering, too still in the afternoons without Amy's gentle redirections echoing from his room.
Amy appeared in the kitchen doorway, already wearing her coat, her canvas bag slung over one shoulder.
“I wanted to say goodbye properly,” she said.
They all turned, and Kate felt her stomach drop. Of course, there was no reason for Amy to stay now, but Kate had gotten used to having her around.
“You're leaving?” Dani asked, though the answer was obvious.
“My job here is done. I was going to stay longer but they’ve found me a new caregiving situation.” Amy set her bag down and came into the kitchen. “Your father is in good hands at Coastside. They have excellent staff, proper equipment, everything he needs.”
“But…” James started, then stopped.
Amy seemed to understand. She'd probably done this before, extracted herself from families who'd come to depend on her steady presence.
“I've left all my notes for the facility,” she said, businesslike but kind. “His preferences, his triggers, what calms him. They know how he likes his coffee with too much sugar, that he gets agitated when it storms.”
Kate nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Amy had seemed like family after all this time, showing up every morning, staying until after dinner. She'd become part of the rhythm of their days.
“There's something else.” Amy reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope. “Your father made me promise to give this to you after he was gone. I should have given it to you sooner, but I thought I’d wait until it was time for me to go.”
“He's not gone,” Tom said sharply.
“No,” Amy agreed gently. “But the man who could say what he wanted to say, that man had already mostly left. He knew that. I have to assume his mind was clearer at the time of this writing. I can understand why he’d write down what he knew he wouldn’t be able to say later.”
She handed the envelope to Kate. It was sealed, “My children” written across the front in Amy's neat handwriting.
“Should we open it now?” Dani asked.
“That's up to you. But maybe wait. Maybe when you're ready.” Amy looked at each of them. “Your father is a good man. Even in his confusion, even when he didn't know where he was, he was kind. That's the core of a person, you know. What remains when everything else is stripped away.”
“He thought you were our mother sometimes,” Kate said quietly.
“I know. And I let him. Sometimes comfort is more important than truth. You all did right by him. Keeping him here as long as you could, finding him the right place when you couldn't. Don't let guilt tell you otherwise.”
She moved toward the door, then turned back.
“The hardest part isn't letting them go,” she said. “It's learning to live in the space they leave behind. Be patient with yourselves. Be patient with each other.”
“Amy,” Kate called as she reached the door. “Thank you. For everything.”
Amy smiled, the professional mask slipping just a little. “Your mother would be proud. How you've all come together. How you've handled this. She would be very proud.”
Then she was gone, her sensible shoes clicking down the porch steps, her small sedan pulling away from the inn for the last time.
The siblings stood in the kitchen, the envelope on the table between them like a bomb waiting to go off.
“Do we read it?” James asked.
“Not yet,” Kate said, picking it up carefully. “Not today.”
“When?”
Kate thought about Pop in his new room, confused and probably frightened, looking for faces he knew. She thoughtabout Amy driving to her next family, her next patient, her next goodbye.
“When we can handle whatever it says,” she said finally. “When we're ready for one more truth.”
