The front steps were intact and the porch itself felt solid.The screen door was closed.Meredith rapped her knuckles on it.No one came to the door.
Wade referred to his clipboard.“Cordelia Pickett, age eighty-eight.”
“Miss Cordelia?”Meredith called out.“Are you home?”
A faint voice floated from the depths, too far away to hear.Wade raised his voice to identify himself and warn her that they were coming in for a wellness check.When they didn’t get a response, he opened the screen door.He entered carefully, speaking in a calm tone.Meredith followed him inside.
Cordelia Pickett was sitting on the living room couch.She was small and frail, with sparse gray hair fashioned in a style that resembled a bird’s nest.There was a walker nearby, and she held a cane, but she didn’t attempt to rise.The room smelled of cat urine.Wade introduced them again.Cordelia seemed confused, and uncertain what to do.
“I’m thirsty,” she said to Meredith.“I haven’t had my grapefruit juice today.”
Meredith reached into her pack for a bottle of water.She unscrewed the cap and gave it to the lady.
“Thank you, dear.”
When Cordelia was hydrated, she studied Wade with renewed interest.“What did you say your name was?”
“Deputy Sheriff Wade Hendricks.”
“Sit down.I can’t see you all the way up there.”
He sat dutifully beside her.She reached up with shaking hands to touch his face.Meredith realized the urine smell wasn’t just from cats.
“Cameron,” Cordelia said.“You came home.”
Wade took her hands away from his face gently.“We’re going to get you some help.”
“Does Rita know you’re here?”
“Rita?”
“Your mother.”
Meredith crossed the room to open a window.She wanted to let some air and light into this poor woman’s house.
“I’m Deputy Sheriff Wade Hendricks,” he said to Cordelia, setting her hands in her lap.“I’m going to call a medical team to evaluate you.”
“My grandson is alive,” Cordelia said.“It’s a miracle.”
Wade patted her hand and stood.He got on his police radio and requested an ambulance for nonemergency transport.Meredith didn’t bother to recite the script.The old lady lived alone and probably hadn’t been on her feet since the tornado hit.She was very confused.
“I need to call Rita,” Cordelia said.“Can you bring me the phone?”
The phone lines were down, so Wade offered his cell phone, but Cordelia couldn’t remember the number.
Meredith helped Cordelia search through her purse, which was full of receipts and scraps of paper.Her wallet had credit cards and medical insurance cards, but no phone numbers.Cordelia asked for her address book, but Meredith couldn’t find that, either.
“Oh, dear,” Cordelia said.“I just remembered.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell Rita anything.She passed on already.”
“I’m so sorry,” Meredith said.
“Who can I call?I need that address book.It has all my numbers.”
Wade made a gesture in the background, cutting his hand across his throat.Meredith understood that she should stop trying to find things for Cordelia, because it was upsetting her.Instead, she offered the old lady another drink of water and listened to her fret.Cordelia continued to insist that Wade was her long-lost grandson.
