by KD McCrite
Isabel smiled, showing the chipped places on her two front teeth. I wondered when she was gonna get those things fixed.
“Just a little, Grace.”
“Grandma?” I asked.
“Woo?” It does my heart good when Grandma says “Woo?” like that. Some grandmas just ignore you when you try to get their attention. When my grandma says “Woo?” I know she’s listening.
“Has Mama had breakfast yet?”
“Not yet, child. Let ’er sleep. She needs her rest.” She glanced at Isabel. “You oughta hop back into bed yourself, Miss Isabel, when you’re finished with your breakfast. You ain’t exactly mended yet. You don’t want to lose all your spizzarinctum.”
“My what?” said Isabel.
“All your energy,” I supplied. Spizzarinctum is a Grandma word, and you might as well learn to use it, or at least know it, ’cause she uses it quite a bit. Sometimes she calls energy “your get-up-and-go.”
“I’ll go back to bed later,” Isabel said. “I just can’t rest until I know Lily is awake and doing better.”
“Well, Lily is awake, and she’s doing better,” my mama said, coming into the room. She was wearing her thick purple robe.
“Mama!” I yelled.
“Hush that hollering, child! We ain’t in the barn,” Grandma told me, frowning. “Lily Reilly, what on earth are you doing out of bed and down here in this kitchen?”
“Oh, Mama Grace, don’t fuss. Staying in bed has never been my forte, you know.”
“Perhaps not, Lily, darling,” Isabel said, “but these are exceptional circumstances. You absolutely must take care of yourself.”
“Yes, Mother, darling,” Myra Sue put in. “You must take care of yourself.”
Mama gave her special smile to each one of us. “I’m taking care of myself,” she said. “And right now I need my loved ones around me. Mama Grace, is there any oatmeal left?”
“I’ll get you some, honey. And some good hot coffee.”
“No coffee,” Mama said. “Just a tall glass of nice, cool water.”
“Doctor’s orders?” Isabel asked.
“Well, he recommended only one cup of coffee a day.”
“What else did he say?” Grandma said, giving Mama a bowl of oatmeal.
Mama sighed. “Use moderation and good sense, mostly. Watch the salt, fat, and sugar. Not too much of any of them.”
“Mama,” I said, “your diet sounds like an Isabel-diet.”
Isabel blinked a few times. “I guess it does,” she said, and the two women smiled at each other.
Daddy and Ian came in the back door. Grandma had their coffee poured and cups on the table before they had time to blink twice.
“Lily, why are you sitting at this table?” Daddy asked when he spotted Mama.
“Because I got lonely.”
“Oh brother,” I said. “If you wanted company, all you had to do was holler and I would’ve come right upstairs. I would’ve read to you, too.”
“Yeah,” said Myra Sue, forgetting to be prissy for a moment. “April is pretty good at reading out loud.”
I looked at her and grinned. “Thanks!”
“Lily,” Daddy said firmly, “you know the doctor wants you to stay off your feet as much as possible. No running around doing chores. Nothing jarring. No stair climbing.” Daddy looked at Myra and me. “You girls help out as much as you can, you hear?”
We nodded.
“What about that Christmas program?” I asked. “Did the doctor say you could do that?”
“Oh, I didn’t even think to mention it to him,” Mama said as if it were no big deal. “That’s a long ways off yet.”
“But you and Pastor Ross have already been talking about it,” I said.
We all waited to see what she’d say, and you know what?
“We’ll see.” That’s all she said, even when Daddy gave her a look and said, “Now, Lily, honey . . .”
“I’ll be just fine, Mike,” she insisted.
“I’m serious, Lily,” Daddy said.
“I know you are, honey. Thank you.”
Then they smiled all dopey at each other and gave each other goo-goo eyes and kissy lips, at which point I looked at Ian, who was grinning at them from ear to ear.
“Okay, you lovebirds,” Ian said. “Here’s what we’re going to do, and no arguments. Isabel and I will take the upstairs room, and you two can return to your bedroom down here.”
Boy, oh boy, I’d never heard good ole Ian speak so strongly about something unless he was fighting with his little missus.
“Isabel has a broken leg,” Mama said immediately. “She can’t be going up and down stairs, either.”
“I’ll trade,” Grandma said.
She plunked herself down at the table so that we were all sitting around it like an ancient rerun of The Waltons.
“You two pack up your clothes and whatnot and move into my house for the time being,” Grandma said. “I’ll take the room upstairs, and Mike and Lily can have their room back.”
That was the best news I had heard in about fifty-two years, except it meant ole Myra Sue would still be sharing my room with me, messing it up and hogging all the space. And I’d still have to listen to her stupid radio.
“Oh, Mama Grace, absolutely not! You aren’t moving out of your own house—” Mama said over the noise of everyone talking all at once.
“Lily!” Grandma said loudly, and we all hushed. “I am moving in whether you want me to or not. If Ian and Isabel prefer to stay here and use Myra Sue’s room, then I’ll just bunk down on the couch. But I am staying right here.” She jabbed her pointy finger downward very emphatically. “And I’m taking care of you, and that is all she wrote.”
“But, Grace,” Ian said, “this is a huge sacrifice for you.”
“Not a bit of it!” Grandma protested. “When everything else is swept away, love and family and friends are all that matter. Anything you do for that reason can’t be a sacrifice.”
“Well,” Ian said slowly, looking at his little missus. “If you’re sure, Grace, and it seems you are, Isabel and I would be happy to stay in your home.”
Isabel nodded. “Yes. Absolutely.”
I figured I should get out my red pen and circle this date on the calendar because those two St. Jameses agreeing on something hardly ever happened.
“I’ll help you pack!” I said with considerable enthusiasm at the idea of them finally moving out.
“No, I’ll do that,” Myra Sue piped up, all gushy with excitement. “And don’t you think poor Isabel will need someone to help her get around while Ian’s out doing farmwork?
I’ll move into Grandma’s house, too!”
Oh brother! As if Mama would ever let her do that in a million years. But surprises never end.
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Daddy said. “If Isabel and Ian are agreeable.”
I wanted to get up and dance a jig for joy, but I very politely stayed right where I was.
Sometimes I was pretty sure God was sitting on His throne in heaven, grinning from ear to ear.
THIRTEEN
Some Ideas Are Better Than Others
“Mike,” Ian said a bit later as we lingered at the table that morning, “do you suppose we can move up the time to start renovating our house? The sooner it’s finished, the sooner Isabel and I can be on our own and you folks can get back to normal. You have the new little skipper coming, you know; you don’t need us in the way.”
Mama didn’t say a word, which surprised me because I half expected her to say something like, “No, no, please stay with us forever.”
Daddy nodded.
“I believe we can do that, Ian,” he said. “Before we get started on your place, though, we need to winterize our farm. We should make another run along all the fence lines, double-check that we’ve mended all the weak places apt to break in the cold. We don’t want to be out there repairing fences when the weather gets bad. And we’ll need to get firewood cut and hauled,
and we have to drain the oil and diesel out of the equipment. Shouldn’t take too long if we get right on it.”
“Great!” Ian leaned forward, his eyes all bright and eager. “I’ve been wondering about the goats for our place. Should we get them now, Mike, or should we wait until spring?”
“No matter when you get them,” Daddy said, “they’ll need a place to stay out of the weather, so you’ll need to build them a shelter first.”
“Goats?” echoed Isabel.
“Yes, Isabel,” Ian said, his voice clipped. “We talked about this once before.”
Isabel just looked at her mister with her eyes all agog. We all continued eating quietly, each and every one of us feeling a little awkward.
Finally, Isabel drew in a deep breath, took a sip of water, and abruptly changed the subject like we hadn’t just been talking about goats. “I wonder about Lily’s health,” she said. “Riding on Rough Creek Road in her delicate situation is dangerous to her health and the baby’s.”
“It’s not good for her,” Daddy agreed. “She can’t go anywhere except to the doctor’s office for weekly checkups.”
“Not even to church?” I asked.
“Not even to church,” Daddy said.
Mama sighed. “It’s going to be a long autumn, and an even longer winter.”
“I’ll try to entertain you, Mama,” I offered.
“Doing what?” scoffed ole Myra Sue. “Even if you’re a good reader, you aren’t very entertaining otherwise. Mother, you can watch the soap operas with Grandma and me.”
“Girls,” Mama said, interrupting our bickering. “You clean the kitchen while Grandma and I help Ian and Isabel get their things together.”
There arose a chorus of protest so loud and unifying that George Washington and all the rest of our founding fathers would have been proud.
“You will go straight back to bed, Lily Reilly.” Daddy spoke for all of us. “The doctor said bed rest. A lot of it.”
“Oh, Mike,” Mama said.
“Isabel and I can pack up our things,” Ian said. “Can’t we, darling? I’ll gather our clothes, you sit on the bed and fold them as best you can, and I’ll pack them into our cases.”
“Of course,” Isabel replied, but her sour smile said she’d rather let Someone Else do it. Poor ole Ian. He practically had the words Someone Else tattooed on his forehead.
“And while the girls are cleaning the kitchen, I will run over to my house and get it spruced up for you.” Grandma looked at my sister and me. “When you two are through here, you can pop across the field and help me.”
Myra Sue did not pop over to Grandma’s with me. She stayed and helped Isabel and Ian, for which I was grateful. If she’d gone to Grandma’s house, she would’ve moaned and whined the whole entire time about being there.
While Grandma and I dusted and swept and moved things around that afternoon, the thought of returning to school the next day to see those smirking Lotties and eat slimy spinach and instant mashed potatoes for lunch and listen to teachers yammer about paying attention and about being eager and responsible made me downright queasy.
As Grandma and I put fresh sheets on the bed, Queenie, that spoiled cat, kept rubbing against my legs even though she knows she gets on my nerves Big-Time since she does not like to be petted. If I had tried, I’m sure she’d lay open a vein on my arm with one claw.
“Get away from me, Queenie,” I said in the nicest voice you can imagine when you’re talking to a cat who drives you right up the wall.
Grandma shooed her out of the room while we kept working.
I had come up with what I thought was a grand idea to solve all my problems.
“Grandma?”
“Woo?” She was slicking her hands over the top blanket to get all the tiny little wrinkles out. I guess she thought ole Isabel was a princess who feels tiny little wrinkles in the blankets. Maybe she was.
“Would you please homeschool me?”
She stopped smoothing to gawk at me like I’d just announced I was going to grow a beard.
“Homeschool you? What kind of notion is that?”
“’Cause I know there are kids around here who have never, in their whole lives, set foot inside that Cedar Ridge Junior High School. They get taught at home.”
She straightened up and rested her hands on her hips. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Well, for one thing, I’d like to spend more time with you before everybody gets all busy with that baby.” Other than being the endangered passenger in her car while she drove to Cedar Ridge, I loved being with Grandma. Once that baby got here, though, I’d probably never see her again.
“So what d’ya say?” I prodded. “Will you?”
“Teach you at home?”
I nodded eagerly.
“No.”
I felt my face fall, and my heart went right down with it.
“For one thing,” Grandma said, “I only have a high school diploma, and for another thing, I forgot most of the things I learned in school, and for another, there’s been so much new that’s happened over the years that I couldn’t possibly teach it to you nor nobody else.”
“But, Grandma, you tell me all kinds of nifty junk, like for instance about nature and the plants and wildflowers and animals when we go on our walks.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “You hate school that much this year?” she asked.
Boy, oh boy. I wonder if someday, when I’m a grandma, I’ll be able to read minds, too.
“Hmm?” she persisted.
“Kinda.” I refused to meet her eyes.
“Your principal called yesterday before your mama got sick, if that’s what this is all about. I was the one who talked to her.”
I felt my eyes get big. “I ain’t never been sent to the principal’s office in my life,” I whispered, and I didn’t care about grammar right then.
“Well, I know that. And I talked with that lady quite a spell. She’s a real nice woman. You kids are lucky to have her.”
My eyes bugged out more.
“Mrs. Patsy Farber? The Mrs. Patsy Farber?”
“Well, I’ll swan, April Grace,” she said, frowning at me.
“Why are you acting that way?”
“’Cause, Grandma. She’s scarier than a two-edged sword. If you were in sixth grade, you’d feel the same way.”
“Well, mebbe so. But I told her about your mama, and how things were kinda in upheaval around here, and she was real nice and understanding. She said she saw no reason to upset your mama and daddy, and if you take your books from now on, pay attention in class, and be sure to do all your homework, she’d just forget the whole thing.”
“She said that?”
“Yep.”
Well, what do you know? Ole Mrs. Patsy Farber might be human after all.
FOURTEEN
One’s Own Personal Space
Grandma and I stowed all her stuff into her car. Right before we left, Grandma stood in the middle of her kitchen and gazed at Queenie, who lounged on the dining table in the kitchen like she was prime rib on a china platter. Boy, oh boy. If Myra Sue ever got a load of that, she’d keel over from the mere thought of cat germs.
I wondered what Isabel would think about Queenie in the same house with her, especially as ole Isabel was afraid of everything with more than two legs. It was gonna be a test of wills. But I knew one thing: if Queenie bit Isabel, the cat would probably be the one that got sick.
“Maybe we oughta take ’er with us,” Grandma murmured.
“Queenie?” I said, trying hard not to choke. The cat opened one eye and glared at me. I thought fast. “Grandma, I read somewhere that cats don’t like to move. They don’t do well with change.”
She nodded and chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip while she eyed ole Queenie, who lay there twitching the end of her tail and glaring at us. That cat did not blink one time.
“That’s true,” she said. “Queenie doesn’t even like it when I move the fur
niture to sweep.”
I pressed my advantage. “Well, there you go, then. What if Queenie got all scared and creeped out by being in a new place, and she ran off?”
“Oh my!” Grandma pressed her hand to her mouth. “We wouldn’t want that! No, we’ll just leave Queenie right here, safe and sound in her home. She’ll be good company for Isabel when Ian is working and Myra Susie’s at school.” She reached out to tickle Queenie under the chin. “But Mommy’s gonna miss her widdle puddy tat, won’t she, baby?”
Queenie laid her ears back the way she does when she’s fixing to either bite you or swat you, so Grandma dropped her hand.
I didn’t say a word. I just heaved a sigh of relief that the crazy feline would not be living in our house.
We drove down the short stretch of Rough Creek Road between Grandma’s driveway and ours. When we got to our house, Ian was putting suitcases in the bed of the old pickup truck. He helped Grandma and me tote her things into the house.
“Temple showed up with some teas and such for Lily,” he said. “I put everything on the kitchen counter.”
Ick. Nothing was much worse than Temple’s “teas and such” that you had to drink or eat. For her teas, she boils things like leaves and roots and flowers, and she probably throws tree bark and creek mud and spiderwebs in there, too.
We had supper together, us Reillys and the St. Jameses, just like usual. By then, all that moving and shifting-people-around business was done. Daddy and Mama had their old room back, Grandma was settled upstairs in Myra Sue’s room, and the St. Jameses had moved their belongings into Grandma’s house. Best of all, starting that very evening, ole Myra Sue would be out of the house until Isabel was able to take care of everything herself.
Boy, oh boy, if returning to school had not loomed like a rolling black thundercloud right smack above my head, I would be happier than you can imagine to have my grandma in the house and my sister out of it. Of course, there was the ever-present promise of that baby eventually coming along to make a mess of things.
