Free His Unexpected Family by Patricia Johns

“May I help you?”
    “I was...” He paused. She didn’t know him. She was certainly more together than she had been in a long time, but she wasn’t in the present, that much was certain.
    “You look an awful lot like my husband.” She nodded. “Well. Imagine that. Did you know there are only a few different kinds of faces in the world? It looks like you got one quite similar to his.”
    “Could I come in for a few minutes?” Greg asked hopefully. “I just wanted to rest my feet.”
    “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
    “Of course, of course,” he assured her. “I only wanted to say hi. I’m a friend of your husband’s.”
    “Then you know exactly how jealous he is, too.” She laughed. Her laughter was light and cheerful. “Did you need something?”
    “A glass of water would be great,” he said, flashing her a grin. She sighed, heading toward the little sink in the corner of her room and taking down a plastic hospital-issue cup. Turning on the sink, she wagged a finger under the flow of water.
    “This old house...” she muttered. “Always takes a bit to get cold water this time of year. It’s always lukewarm.”
    He remembered that house well. The kitchen sink seemed to give you warm water when you wanted to drink it and cold water when you wanted to wash anything. It had driven his mother crazy, but after his father had passed away, she hadn’t bothered getting it fixed. He thought it must have reminded her of when his dad was around, and she didn’t want to lose the reminder. Now, in the hospital room, she was mentally changing the small room around her into the house from her memories.
    “Thanks,” he said as she handed him the cup. “This is kind of you.”
    “No bother,” she said and turned back to her plants.
    “So how are you?” he asked.
    “I’m good, Mr....”
    “I’m Greg.”
    “I have a five-year-old named Gregory.” She smiled gently.
    “What’s he like?”
    She looked over at him suspiciously. “Greg, let me be straight with you. My husband and I have an old-fashioned relationship. He’s friendly with men, and I’m friendly with women.”
    “Oh, I understand,” he said hurriedly.
    “Are you married?”
    “No.” He shook his head.
    “Well, then, I won’t be of much interest to you. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll tell my husband you came.”
    He was being dismissed. He stood there for a moment, looking at her hopefully. Would something trigger her memory? Would something flicker, some deep emotion somewhere? She looked back at him, an uncertain look on her face.
    “Mom?”
    “Pardon me?”
    “Mom? It’s me....”
    The uncertainty turned to alarm on her weathered features, and he sighed. She didn’t remember him. “Thank you, Mrs. Taylor. Give your husband my best.”
    Backing out of the room, he felt a lump rising in his throat. He took a deep breath, trying to push all the emotions out of sight. It had been getting worse and worse, her memories staying in the distant past for most of the time. This wasn’t a good sign, and he knew it. If only she’d let him chat with her as a friend, at least then he could spend some time with her, but she kept dismissing him like some inappropriate flirt.
    Fran came ambling down the hallway with a cart of medication squeaking cheerfully. She gave him a long, searching look.
    “I’m sorry, honey,” she said.
    “I guess I missed the window.” He gave her a shrug. “I’ll drive faster next time.”
    “She was quite alert. She knew your dad was gone, and she thought you were a new police recruit. I thought for sure she’d recognize you.” Fran shook her head. “Where was she now?”
    “Dad was alive, and I was five.”
    She nodded. “That’s a nice time for her. Well, next time, honey.”
    If there even was a next time.
    “Thanks.”
    “Are you all right, Chief?”
    “Oh, yes, I’m fine.” He gave her a polite nod, covering the sadness that welled inside of