I figured hiring a caretaker for my father, Frank, would make things easier.
It was supposed to provide peace of mind, not paranoia. But that’s exactly what happened when our personal belongings started missing.
After a minor fall left my father injured and unable to care for himself, he had no option.
His doctor believed he needed help, and for once, I refused.
I told him. “You need someone.”
That’s when Tessa came into our life.
In her late 30th, she exuded a friendly demeanor that made others feel at ease. She was patient, sweet, caring, sensitive, and professional!
One evening, as I was clearing the dinner plates long after Tessa had gone home, Dad grasped my wrist with such urgency that I shivered!
He had a fearful expression on his face that I hadn’t seen since I was a child.
“Sweetheart, she’s not who she says she is,” he whispered, despite us being the only people in the house. “And she takes things.”
He openly hesitated before he spoke. “Small stuff. My old flannel shirt. A book I’ve had since college. That pocket watch your mother gave me before she passed.”