by Rebecca Main
“Now look what you’ve done,” she says, her voice a gentle tease as we try to salvage my mess. “You’ve gone and ruined your graduation breakfast extraordinaire!”
“Was this my present?” I ask, instantly feeling even more remorseful. The blueberry muffins, much to my chagrin, are tinged an orangish yellow at their bottoms. They are the fatal victims of my impromptu spill.
“No,” she says with a shake of her head, “this was.” She moves quickly to and from the fridge, snagging a rectangular piece of paper. She presses it into my hand before I can protest.
“Gran—”
“Honey, you've given it your all these past few years. This is just a little something I’ve been saving for you. Use it for whatever you want. Go on a vacation! Buy yourself something nice for once. Enjoy yourself!”
I throw my gaze to the ceiling, blinking back the tears that surface as I take in all of the new information. “You're moving?” I finally say, looking her in the eye, just like she taught me when I was younger. Always look people in the eyes when talking to them. It doesn’t just show respect, it conveys a person’s strength and power.
“Yes, sweetheart, and I want to invite you along with me.”
“But, Gran, I don’t understand. Why? Why are you moving?”
“Oh Lord, now isn't that a question! Come on and help me finish cleaning this all up, then we’ll have ourselves a nice talk.”
We quickly clean off the kitchen table and take stock of breakfast’s survivor: the bacon. Thank goodness. By the look Gran passes me, I can tell she’s thinking the same. Her hand darts forward to grab one of the crispier pieces as I lay into one of the fatter ones.
“So…?”
Gran doesn’t look pleased, but there is a resolute air about her. “I’m needed back home” she says finally.
“Back home? As in the Falls? Barns Falls?”
“Branson Falls.”
I give a short shrug at my error.
“I’ve—sweetheart, when the accident happened, I knew Branson Falls wasn’t the place to raise you,” she says with graveness I’m unused to hearing.
“Was it not safe?” I hedge a guess.
“At the time, Branson Falls had been undergoing a lot of change in the makeup of its residents. We were growing. And not everyone appreciated that. We were a close-knit town and liked things just the way they were. It wasn’t that I was so opposed to the change, but with all that negativity in the air.” She scowls, then gives a grimace for good measure as if she remembers exactly the way it felt. “All that negativity, it bites at your skin. Makes a person uncomfortable, even in their home. There was no way on this green earth I would have raised you in such a place. It was out of the question, but I left a lot of unfinished business when we came here. Now, now. I see that look. And I don’t regret my decision one bit.”
“Oh, Gran, I didn’t realize,” I say, my words softly spoken.
“Well of course not, dear”—she reassures me with a slow smile—“and you weren’t ever meant to, sweetheart. But the facts haven’t changed, and now, now, it’s time for me to go home. I’m needed.”
“Are you going to go back to your job at the practice? Be the town’s doctor again?”
“Yes.”
“But can’t they get a new one?”
“No.”
I give a little groan of frustration at her petulant tone, snagging one of the crispier pieces of bacon off the plate in spite. It tastes like coal in my mouth. The flavor a bitter reflection of my feelings. Sometimes Gran gets this way, so obstinate, so stubborn. I know I picked up this trait from her, and on my worse days, I wield it like a flaming sword, but I never enjoy it. Not too much at least. “Why?” I grind out. I know how to play the game at least, readying myself to pry the answer from her.
“Because.”
“Gran,” I finish my bacon with a few quick chomps. “Why can’t the town just get a new doctor? Why does it have to be you? You haven’t been in practice for years now! Besides, you're retired. Retired people don't have to work, you know?” I withhold my smirk, knowing my last remarks will have her answering my questions.
“Zoelle, that town is a part of me. I owe it to the people I left behind to return now that you’re grown.” My bitterness dissipates. “I know the timing seems off to you, abrupt even. But it’s been on my mind since you began your last semester at school. I’ve already contacted a realtor. As soon as this place sells, I’ll be leaving. The only question is will you be coming with me?
“I don’t know what the job market is like out there, but you know you can always work alongside me. I’ve always wanted to teach you things. Things every woman in our family should know,” she tells me passionately, holding out her hands to accept my own. They are worn and warm, and a comfort to me instantly.
A shiver tracks up my spine as her fingers tighten around mine. Gran’s impassioned words sparks something inside me—a flare of hope, perhaps? A hope for something greater, something far past my wildest dreams. My teeth sink gently into my bottom lip as I stare into her expressive eyes. They hold me captive, as if attempting with just a look to convince me to come with her. I release my bottom lip, eyes tearing away from her gaze to trail over her face. A multitude of fine wrinkles gracefully trace around her eyes and mouth. A tiny stack of deep red stones dangle from her ears. They stand out starkly against her silver hair, even though it’s kept back with a thick black headband.
“I’ll understand if you want to go off with that boy of yours, or try living on your own once more. But I think we both know I would prefer the latter.” An underlying amusement paints her tone, but I know she’s serious despite it.
“I—”
“Just you think about it, sweetheart. I’ve already got a place lined up in Branson Falls. Everything is in order.”
She gives my hands another squeeze and her eyes never leave my own. I feel a wave of uncertainty fill me as soon as she leaves the room, the kitchen having been cleared and cleaned. My hand goes to the necklace around my neck, fingering the long chain till I find its charm, a pearl-shaped piece of jade caged in gold. It was a gift, among a pile of others, from my parents on my last birthday with them. For some reason, I like to think it brings me clarity as it always makes me feel better in low times.
It doesn’t take long for me to make my decision.
+++
“Thank you for helping,” I say, my feet kicking at the ground as Ben walks past, a heavy looking box filling his arms. “Gran just has so much stuff, but she doesn’t trust paying anyone around here to move her things.”
“Does that mean I have her seal of approval?” He throws me a wink over his shoulder.
“Maybe.” I smile and emit a light laugh.
He maneuvers the remaining boxes around to accommodate the new one, its contents tinkling in mild protest. His good mood, I know, is a fabrication. He is not pleased with my decision to go with Gran, my half-hearted reasoning falling on deaf ears. He hoped, or so he told me, that we could move in together. His face fell at my rather immediate, startled look and the following attempt to hide my dismay.
Ben and I had only been dating for a few months. We certainly hadn’t been together long enough to consider moving in together. Well, at least not for me to consider. Maybe I should have seen it coming after his profession, or rather his confession, of love. But Gran’s moving is merely a kinder excuse than to tell him no outright. At least that’s what I convince myself.
Maybe with time, my feelings could develop for Ben into something more. But three months? Well, that’s asking too much of me.
“Benjamin, there’s still a few more things in here, if you don’t mind.”
Ben tries and fails to cover his annoyed glance at our former home. It has taken only a few weeks to sell, and once the papers were signed, Gran rushed to pack up the place.
“I still can’t believe she got the place to sell so fast.” With his hands in his pockets, he shuffles his feet as he walks towar
d me. His head turns toward the house, a frown cutting between his brow before turning his full attention to me.
I meet him halfway, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head against his chest. “She said the people who bought it found it charming. Utterly charming.” I dip myself backward to emphasize Gran’s superior tone.
“Ben!”
He rights me and spares me a quick kiss before trotting into the house. I know he doesn’t want to be here loading up the huge truck. Let alone drive the aforementioned beast all the way up to Branson Falls with us. It’s a mighty task, and places me farther away from him. From us. I know he does it though because it will make me happy.
“Zoelle, come on, then, girl! We need your muscle on this one.”
I hesitate.
My thoughts are suddenly racing around a million miles a minute in my head. I think about Ben and our relationship. What it is and could be. Of Gran and her big decision. Of me and my future. Of Branson Falls, and why, for the life of me, I feel like the town is going to turn my life upside down. My fingers glance over the jade between my breasts; oh yes, this move most certainly is going to turn my life upside down.
+++
Branson Falls is about a three-hour drive away. We make the trip without incident, but the butterflies in my stomach triple as we pass the See You Again sign exiting Branson Falls. Lucky for me, Gran trusts the people of the town enough to hire movers to help us unload. We see them awaiting our arrival as we pull up to the house.
“Gran, is this your old house?”
“Well, of course, sweetheart.” Her eyebrow rises in an aloof manner. “Where else would I live?”
My eyebrows contract as my lips form the shape of an O. “I thought you sold it.” Like any other rational person. “Have you been paying for two houses this entire time?”
“Oh please,” she snorts. “It's been taken care of in my absence. You remember my friends Diana and Maureen.” My eyebrows remain contracted as I slowly shake my head.
“You usually came to visit us, Gran. I’ve only been to your house a couple of times when I was younger... But those names are familiar.” I soften my features, eyeing the house quizzically. “You talk to them on the phone a lot, don’t you?”
Gran nods, satisfaction curling her lips. “I do. They’ve been watching over the house since I left, knowing one day I’d return.”
I can tell upon closer inspection that what she says is true. They have taken care of it. The house sports a fresh coat of paint, and the yard looks well maintained. So, who exactly has been taking care of the house while Gran was away? I cast a curious look at the front door, and my heart gives a nervous flutter. It opens half a second later with a clatter; two older women push against one another to hurdle through the door toward us.
“Diana!” one cries, the faster of the two. Her hair is a pearly white and runs long past her breasts. Her icy-colored tresses and alabaster skin is quite contrary to her vibrant dress, which is full of purples and blues and greens. Her larger-than-life presence takes me slightly aback. The older woman quickly gains ground. Her collection of bracelets produce pretty jingles and chimes with each stride.
Gran goes to meet them, her arms outstretched and ready to embrace them. The second woman, still trailing a step or so behind, has skin the color of dark cocoa and keeps her greying hair back in a severe bun. She is outfitted in all black and dons more jewelry than both Gran and the first woman combined. Her fingers hold at least one ring each. Some small, others bulky, but none so gaudy they make her appearance or accessories unappealing.
“My Mo!” Gran gushes, pulling back and planting two firm kisses on either side of Mo’s face (the woman with the pearly pale hair). “Lydia!” she cries as the second woman weaves her way into Gran's arms, a giant smile glued on her face.
“Right,” I mutter to myself, “definitely not left unattended.”
“Zoelle Renee, get your butt over here.”
I walk toward them, my hesitant smile growing more genuine by the second as they open their arms to embrace me. It’s impossible not to let out a laugh when they squeeze me tight and stare so lovingly at me. As if I am their grandchild, and not Gran’s. Their love and joy at seeing Gran and me outweighs any feelings of awkwardness or unrest I might have.
“Maureen Clybourne. Lydia Stein. Meet my daughter’s daughter, Zoelle Renee Baudelaire.” The women smile relentlessly.
“It’s nice to meet you both.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you too, my dear. It’s truly a sorrow and shame what happened to your family. Thank the Lord she had you, Diana.” Lydia reaches out and cups the side of my face, her green, cat-like eyes taking in the details of my face. “A Baudelaire, through and through!” Her exclamation garners a joyful laugh from Maureen, who bobs her head in agreement.
“Yes, yes! Now, come on, then. The boys should be here in another hour or so, so why don’t we all just head inside. I’ll make some tea and we can chitchat for a while,” Mo offers, already walking back up to the house. I follow at a slower pace. They must have been the reason Gran had been persuaded to come back.
I’m stunned to a standstill for a second time once I step inside the house. What weak memories I possess come rushing back. Everything is the same. Of course, some new trinkets and photos decorate the front hall entryway, but from what I remember, it’s all the same. My feet lead me forward to the old secretary desk that holds all manner of things: mail and magazines, notes and knickknacks. The picture of my family and Gran picnicking in the park one Fourth of July still stands in the right corner of it all, the stained-glass lamp sitting directly behind it. My fingers grace its edges before peeling back. Why is everything still here? How long has Gran been planning to come back?
Laughter sounds and I follow it to the back, knowing if I want answers from Gran, I need to play it smart. Hopefully, Gran’s girlfriends will find themselves in a good enough mood to spill the beans if she doesn’t.
“Zoelle, I must ask, what do you prefer? Zoe or Zoey?” Lydia stresses the hard “e” for the former and a silky “y” for the latter pronunciation.
I hesitate a moment, my eyes glancing away for a second before I answer. “Zoe.” I tell them with a slightly forced smile as I enter the kitchen. “Wow, this kitchen has certainly changed... unlike the rest of this house.” Good, that sounded casual yet inquisitive enough.
“Oh yes,” Lydia says with a serene nod. “There was some water damage, and it needed to be fixed along with the bathroom up above. So, we thought, why not give it a little update. But everything else is just the way Diana left it. We knew one day she’d come back to us and wouldn’t want a thing changed, but some things just couldn’t be helped.”
“I like it.” The smile on my face grows. “Actually, I kind of love it.” The women and Gran laugh along with me.
“You be sure to call us your aunties, all right, dear?” I nod my head in happy acquiescence.
The kitchen is alive with lovely green cabinets and white countertops. But my attention is stolen by a wall completely lined with plants. Jasmine, lavender, sage, mint, on and on the herbs and flora scent the room with their earthy notes. They bring me peace as I take a deep breath.
My chef’s eye takes in the rest of the details of the kitchen. An informal table and mismatched chairs fit snugly near the bay window at the far end of the room. To my left, the wall is made up of three distinct sections. The first and nearest to me is filled with cookbooks. In the middle section, a wood burning stove, even though a perfectly modern stove sits snugly between fridge and sink to my right. Past the stove is a collection of photographs. Some bearing the face of myself and my family.
