Present Day
In the days that followed the discovery of “Stella and Sally McGee,” Candice and her siblings didn’t know what to do with themselves. Henry scoured the internet for clues about what had happened to them and discovered, only, that their album had been wildly successful, that their fans had wanted more from them, but that they’d disappeared without a trace. Not a single article in any newspaper online could give them a clue as to what had happened, nor where they’d come from, nor where Sally McGee now was.
They were at a loss.
But Candice still had an additional clue to dig into. It had to do with Frank and what he’d said about his mother. She discussed it with Lindsey at the breakfast table, sipping her coffee and watching the light flicker through the leaves of the tree outside. “Maybe his mother knows something,” she offered. “Remember? She couldn’t stop singing a country song. Maybe it was our mother’s song. Maybe she knows.”
Lindsey wrinkled her nose. “She has Alzheimer’s, right?”
“But music’s supposed to be one of the biggest ways of taking Alzheimer’s patients back through time,” Candice said, parroting an article she’d read online. Apparently, sounds and scents were the last to leave your memory.
Lindsey considered this. “You can ask Frank about it. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.” She paused, then smiled teasingly. “He wouldn’t help me, though. Just you.”
Candice rolled her eyes. “It isn’t like that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Lindsey said.
Upstairs in her bedroom, Candice paced and considered her reason for calling Frank. Was she really as innocent as she felt she was? Or was she using “Stella McGee” as an excuse to get back in touch with an old flame? Throughout her long and storied marriage, she’d never so much as flirted with another man. She’d never wanted to give anyone the impression that she wasn’t happily in love with Nathan Lerner.
But this strange and exhilarating black hole of her mother’s past could not be ignored. The internet had nothing for them. Before getting in the car and driving all the way to Nashville, they had to exhaust every option. She took a breath and dialed.
Frank answered on the second ring. “Candice?”
“Hi! Um. Sorry to call like this?”
“No apologies necessary. Happy to hear from you!” She could hear that he was smiling. “Lindsey said you’ve been busy with your kids.”
“It’s been a busy time,” Candice lied. “Listen. I have a really strange request.”
Frank listened without question for a very long time as Candice fleshed out what she and her siblings had learned about their mother’s country-western background. “I remembered what your mother said,” she offered. “And I wondered if, maybe, your mother remembered anything. Maybe we could play her the songs? Perhaps she could shed some light?”
“It’s tricky,” Frank explained. “Sometimes if she can’t remember something, she gets really irritated. Angry, rather. I don’t want to stress her out too much.”
“I know. I know,” Candice hurried to say. “It was a stupid idea.”
“Maybe not,” Frank said finally. She could see his furrowed, thoughtful brow in her mind’s eye. She could see him weighing up the request. “She still loves listening to music. We could put on your mother’s old record and see what happens. I can’t promise anything.”
“Of course not,” Candice said. “I have no expectations.”
Candice and Frank agreed to meet the following afternoon outside of his mother’s memory care clinic. Frank was wearing a black button-down shirt and dark jeans, and he looked handsome and artistic, like a man who still lived in the city. Candice wore a dark red dress that buttoned to her neck but showed her sculpted shoulders. She carried the vinyl in her arms, as though to protect it. She was grateful they had the other copy back at home.
“That’s it, huh?” Frank nodded at the unlabeled record case.
“It is,” she said.
“I can’t believe you stumbled into your mother’s secret country music career,” he said, laughing as he opened the door. “I wonder what secret lives my parents had before I was born.”
“Maybe they were circus performers,” Candice suggested.
“Acrobats, maybe,” Frank declared. “Or fire dancers.”
Candice laughed, surprised at how her chest opened up despite her nerves.
The woman at the front desk greeted Frank by name and told him that his mother was in good spirits today. “She keeps asking me when you’re coming in,” she said.
“That’s a good sign,” Frank told Candice as they walked the halls, saying hello to the other residents. Some of them watchedtelevision, while others did arts and crafts or played cards. Their ages ranged from the early sixties to one hundred.
Candice didn’t like to think about Alzheimer’s. She didn’t like to think about a disease ravaging her mind but leaving her body alone. Oh, but it happened to so many people. It was one of the great tragedies of life.
