“Funny you ask. I wasn’t sure what to think about it at first. But some of the other caretakers have had very good things to say about the program and the woman who runs it. Apparently she has the gift of patience and knows just how to get through to the residents she works with.”

The way Madigan had pushed him for an answer about what might be wrong with her Vespa made him wonder about her patience. But as a man who shut out most people and would bend over backward for his grandfather, he knew how a person projected themselves wasn’t always consistent. “Would you mind talking to his doctor about getting him into it?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Great, thank you. You won’t forget?”

She gave him a don’t be silly look. “What’s important to you and your grandfather is important to me. I won’t forget.”

As they walked into the living room, his grandfather barked, “John, it’s about time you got here.” He waggled a shaky finger at Elsa. “Mom hid our fishing poles again.”

John was his grandfather’s younger brother, whom he also sometimes called knucklehead, to which John had always replied, Want me to give you a knuckle sandwich? John had passed away several years ago, and while it cut Tobias to his core that the one living relative who had always loved him unconditionally had also forgotten him, he’d learned not to correct him. He tucked away the sadness that brought and looked at the withering man on the couch, with his wispy white hair, sagging jowls, and angry eyes, baring almost no resemblance to the Henry “Hank” Pettazzoni he’d once been, with jet-black hair, a barrel chest, and a booming voice that had only been outdone by his deep, contagious laughter. But Tobias knew that beneath the disease was the biggest heart known to man. As Tobias had grown from a teen to a young adult, his father’s adoration had turned to disappointment, but his grandfather’s love had made up for the ridicule his father had so often dumped on him.

“That’s okay, Hank. We’ll find them,” Tobias reassured him, glancing at the picture of Carrie and Lynnie on the end table, wishing for the millionth time that he could turn back the clock.

But wishing was for innocent kids who still had their heads in the clouds, and reality always came crashing in.

A while later, he paced the parking lot as he waited for Madigan. He considered every visit with his grandfather a gift, but that didn’t mean they were easy. They always left him trudging through a swamp of memories of the people he’d loved and lost, figuratively and literally, unleashing his demons to swarm like alligators snapping at his heels, trying to drown him in their murky water.