Chapter 15 - THE CAREGIVER WHO NEVER CAME“Mr. Rowan, we haven’t provided weekday service at your residence for seven weeks.”
Gavin stood in his office doorway.
“What?”
The agency manager repeated it.
“Mrs. Rowan reduced the schedule in May. After that, we only provided two Saturday visits and one emergency fill-in.”
Gavin looked at the invoices.
“But I have monthly payments.”
“Not to us.”
He checked.
She was right.
Some early payments bore the CareWell name.
Later ones went to Monica’s reimbursement account with memo descriptions that looked similar.
“What was the reason for canceling?”
“Mrs. Rowan said the family had chosen to provide care privately.”
“Did she mention cost?”
“I’d need to check notes.”
“Please.”
A pause.
“She wrote that professional support was no longer necessary.”
Gavin closed his eyes.
No longer necessary.
Rachel had found Beatrice dehydrated and losing weight.
Monica had removed help anyway.
He ended the call.
Then contacted the credit-card company.
The full picture unfolded slowly.
Monica had over thirty thousand dollars in balances he did not know existed.
Some charges were ordinary.
Some not.
Furniture.
Clothing.
A failed investment subscription.
Transfers.
Cash advances.
Gavin sat alone for a long time.
When Monica came home, he did not immediately confront her.
That surprised even him.
He watched instead.
She placed groceries on the counter.
Kissed Tyler’s head.
Asked Beatrice if she needed water.
Perfect.
Then she noticed Gavin.
“You’re home early.”
“Yes.”
“Everything okay?”
“Fine.”
He hated lying.
But he needed to know how far hers went.
That evening he asked casually:
“CareWell coming tomorrow?”
Monica did not hesitate.
“No, Thursday.”
The agency had no appointment Thursday.
Gavin looked at her.
She continued cooking.
The lie was effortless.
That frightened him.
After dinner he entered Beatrice’s room.
Sat beside her.
“Mom.”
She looked at him.
He placed the board in front of her.
“Has a professional caregiver been here this week?”
NO.
“Last week?”
NO.
“The week before?”
Beatrice hesitated.
Then NO.
Gavin’s throat tightened.
“Has Monica been alone with you most days?”
YES.
“Has she been feeding you every meal?”
Beatrice’s eyes dropped.
Gavin pointed.
YES?
NO?
Beatrice looked at NO.
His chest tightened.
“Have you missed meals?”
YES.
He covered his mouth.
For several seconds he could not speak.
Beatrice looked at him with something unbearable in her eyes.
Not accusation.
Concern.
For him.
Even now.
He lowered his head against her hand.
“I’m sorry.”
Beatrice slowly touched his hair.
May you like
The way she had when he was a boy.
And Gavin realized his mother was comforting him for discovering that he had failed to protect her.
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