Clifford's Spiral: Chapter 13

A thoughtful stroll.

Chapters are serialized here for paid subscribers.

About This Novel

In Clifford's Spiral, the stroke survivor’s past is blurry, and his memories are in pieces. He asks himself:

Who was Clifford Olmstead Klovis?

Stroke sufferer Clifford Klovis tries to piece together the colorful fragments of his memories. What can there be to learn from Reverend Thurston?

Chapter 13

It was another bright, clear morning. Just enough wispy clouds in the robin’s-egg blue sky for decoration. Someone had wheeled Clifford out onto the edge of the patio. He’d been too drowsy to know who it was. It couldn’t have been Myra. Her intoxicating scent would have startled him awake.

He’d lost track of time. He was pretty sure it was still spring because the ground looked squishy and smelt funky. From his vantage point, he looked out over a duck pond, and beyond a grove of trees he could glimpse the verge of a golf course. High-priced real-estate here, no doubt.

He was not only confused as to time but also as to location. He could remember seeing snow on the ground here, so Jeremy hadn’t shipped him off to Florida. There would be seasons. Jeremy must have been the one to make the decision. His son might be making all the decisions these days. Eleanor was a distant memory. He was sure she hadn’t visited him. Had she died? Run away with the gardener? Been confined to some rival institution that would challenge his to a bridge tournament?