Mitch studied his mother through the windshield as she climbed the porch steps. “You can’t watch her every second. You have to sleep.”

“You heard what the doctor said about her blood work. Her system’s all out of whack.” Rand held up a plastic bag. “I got all her supplements right here. I’ll see that she takes them. And now that her infection’s under control . . .”

“Is the list in there?”

Rand nodded. The doctor had printed off a list of do’s and don’ts for what kinds of things his mom should be eating and drinking. He’d told them there was no cure for dementia but managing her health would help with her symptoms and slow the rate of deterioration. Especially if they could keep her UTI from returning.

The doctor had been optimistic about the improvements they might see if they got his mother’s levels under control, but Mitch was less certain. Any positive changes, if they ever came, weren’t going to happen overnight.

“You’ll call me if you need anything?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll lock the doors at night?”

Rand hesitated. “She knows how to unlock doors, son.”

“She might forget. It might slow her down.”

Rand slid out of the truck and looked at Mitch through the open door, clutching the bag. “You’ll come get us Friday for the CT scan?”

That was another thing Mitch worried about. Though his father’s cataracts were fairly mild, they were enough to make driving in the dark dangerous. And the long nights of winter were only just beginning. “Of course.”

Rand jerked his chin once, shut the door, then limped toward the house. Mitch growled like a cornered raccoon. If something happened while he wasn’t here, he’d never forgive himself. But it wasn’t his house. Wasn’t his decision. He and his father needed to have a talk about his mom’s future, but that would have to wait for another day. Maybe the doctor was right and a steady diet of omega-3 and cranberry juice would make all the difference in the world.

Mitch turned the truck around and drove slowly down the snow-packed gravel drive. He didn’t know if he was doing the right thing. He didn’t know if Caroline would believe his mother was going to be fine, or if she would insist on moving his mother out of that house right this instant. He didn’t know how to do this by himself.

Why’d you have to take her, God? It would’ve been better if God had taken him instead. He wasn’t himself without Caroline.

Taylor Swift’s “Back to December” came on the radio, and Mitch stiffened. Oh, Lord, not Taylor Swift. Not now. He wasn’t sure his heart could take it.