A few days after our first ride together on the trail, I flew down to Texas to visit Nana Ruth. And that’s where I currently stood, staring at the building, eager to see the woman inside.
The Chesterfield House in Wortham was a sprawling, single story brick building that was framed by stone archways and well-manicured gardens. From the outside, it was beautiful. I only hoped that same serenity and beauty was reflected inside. I hated to think of Nana Ruth holed up in some dreary place, forgotten and neglected. Not that I actually believed that Frankie would neglect her, but then again, I never thought Frankie would disappear from my life without a word.
As I reached for the handle of the front door of the Chesterfield House, I pushed those thoughts aside. I may not know Frankie like I used to, but I knew how much she cared for Nana Ruth and she would never put her in a place that mistreated her. Frankie would make sure that Nana was getting the best possible care no matter what it cost to make that happen.
I checked in at the front desk with a genial woman named Lois who had a quick smile and kind eyes. As she led me through the home, she pointed out the common room, the dining area, and the game room and told me a little bit about the activities they had available for Nana and the others to enjoy.
Everything was open and welcoming and full of sunshine from large windows that overlooked well-kept gardens. The staff I passed were cheerful, and from the short glimpses I got, it appeared they did their best to make the people who had been admitted there feel like residents rather than patients.
When we reached Nana’s room, Lois announced to her that she had a visitor. With a pat on my arm, Lois whispered, “Ruthie loves visitors. Let me know if you need anything.” And then she departed, leaving me standing in the doorway with Nana Ruth looking at me, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.
“Well, are you going to come in and sit down or do you plan to decorate my doorway all day long?”
Nana’s words were hard to understand due to the paralysis on one side of her face, and my chest squeezed with sadness at seeing that sign of weakness on the only other woman I knew that was as headstrong and proud as Frankie. But despite the way she looked, Nana’s voice was filled with humor, just like it had always been, and something inside loosened at the familiarity. Maybe Frankie was wrong. Maybe Nana Ruth would remember me.
I crossed the room and leaned over to hug her. She still smelled like that lavender perfume she always used to wear, and although she seemed surprised at first, she reached up with one arm to pat me on the back.
Pulling away, I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “I’ve missed you,” I told her.
She tilted her head. “You did?”
I let go of her hand and sat down in the chair across from her. “I loved getting your letters, but it’s a poor substitute for seeing you in person.” I grinned, unable to hide the relief I felt at seeing her and knowing that she was okay.
Her mouth opened in surprise. “I wrote you letters.” She said it in a way that sounded halfway between a question and a statement. Like she was reminding herself of something she’d forgotten, or maybe trying to convince herself that what I said was true. “I’ve known you for a long time.” Again…a half question.
My initial relief faded a bit as Frankie’s warning echoed in my thoughts and I nodded, giving Nana a sad smile. Unsure of what to say next, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. “I thought you might like to play Canasta with me,” I offered in response.
Her face lit up in recognition, and I had to admit that it hurt a little that a card game received a warmer reception than I had.
“Well,” she said, reaching for the deck with a shaking hand. “Canasta is best played with four people, but I’ll make an exception for a handsome man who writes me letters.” She managed to give me a wink.
Her interest in playing cards was something at least. It wasn’t Nana exactly as I remembered, but I was sure I wasn’t the same boy she had known either. Life changed us, and whether she remembered me or not, I would never forget the way she’d always made me feel like one of her own.
She removed the cards from the box and gave the back of the deck a curious glance before squinting up at me with a look that told me she was trying to puzzle something out. Dropping her eyes to her hands again, she shuffled the cards between her trembling fingers. I resisted the urge to reach over and help her. She might not remember me, not completely, but she remembered how to play Canasta. She remembered how to shuffle and deal, and I wasn’t about to take that from her.
Canasta. Nana’s card habit. She had taught Frankie and me how to play years ago, and since she insisted that playing with four people was best, Dallas was forced to become our fourth player. He was always on Nana’s team, so it usually worked out for him. Even though I was the only one who showed any real interest, none of us ever complained when the offer for a game of cards and cookies was offered. And now, I was grateful for that tether, no matter how small it was, that would allow me to spend time with Nana without it being the awkward visit of a person she no longer recognized.
We played for close to two hours, making small talk, and when the nurse came by to bring Nana her dinner, I knew it was time to go. As the nurse placed her dinner tray on the small table, Nana gathered the cards in a pile and attempted to hand them over to me. I pressed them back into her hands. They were a pack of cards I’d picked up at the gift shop of the Venetian, and they had our Dueling Cellos logo on the back.
“Keep them,” I said. “They’re good luck.” Then I leaned over and kissed the top of her head in farewell.
Nana looked down at the cards fanning them over the table next to her tray of food. “Thank you. I don’t need luck against my Frankie because she’s terrible, but these sure are pretty to look at.”
I swallowed back the lump of disappointment at hearing Frankie’s name spoken so easily, knowing that mine wasn’t even a flicker in Nana’s memory.
“She never was any good at this game,” I joked.
Nana nodded, staring at the cards fanned out under her fingers. “Neither was the other boy.”
My breath caught in my throat at the mention of Dallas, and I couldn’t find a response. Maybe she did remember me a little.
Nana looked up, one of her eyebrows dipping in thought. She didn’t blink as she stared at me. “She left you,” she said slowly. “And now he’s gone too. You feel all alone.”
“Yes.” How could one syllable sound so broken?
Nana gathered the cards and dropped her gaze to watch her fingers tap them into a neat pile. Letting out a deep sigh she murmured, “Sometimes you lose something you love.” Her eyes shimmered with grief, and she reached up to swipe at a bit of wetness that had escaped. “And sometimes you find a love you didn’t know you were missing. Sacrifice…it is not easy to give or to bear.” Nana pressed her lips together, and picked up her fork as she dragged her tray in front of her.
“Thank you for the visit. And the cards,” she said without meeting my eyes.
Her words were still rattling around senselessly in my brain, and it took me a moment to tell her, “You’re welcome,” before letting myself out of her room and closing the door behind me.
***
I hadn’t known I was going to visit until I found myself googling Jimmy’s name and typing his address into my GPS. I had only intended to visit Nana Ruth when I flew to Texas, at least that’s what I told myself, but now that I was close to where Frankie had spent the last four years, I had to see for myself. I had to understand what she had given me up for.
Even as I heard the GPS tell me I had arrived at my destination, I knew it probably wasn’t one of my better ideas to show up unannounced at her brother’s house while Frankie was still back in Maryland. There couldn’t possibly be anything I could learn that was going to make Frankie’s betrayal okay, but maybe I would find some closure.
Jimmy lived in a ranch-style house about fifteen minutes from the nursing home. His place was olde
r and not as large as the home he grew up in, but it was in a nice neighborhood.
I parked on the street in front of his house and just looked at it for a few minutes, trying to figure out what could have lured Frankie here. Unable to come up with anything, I exited my rental car and walked up the driveway to the front door. Small bikes and scooters littered the area in front of the garage, and there were child-like sketches done in chalk all over the walkway.
When I lifted my hand to ring the doorbell, I could hear cartoons playing from inside the house somewhere. The sound of the doorbell was answered by the bark of a dog and a familiar male voice hollering at the animal to quiet down. When the door opened, Jimmy DiGorgio stared back at me with a look of complete shock as an excited ball of fur struggled to get past his legs while releasing short barks like it was a machine gun.
“Austin?” Jimmy couldn’t have looked more shocked if I’d shown up at his house with a bus full of Elvis impersonators. He looked over his shoulder and then stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him. I was forced to take a step back to make room for him. “What brings you here?” he asked cautiously.
“Hey, Jimmy,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “It’s been a long time.”
“Yeah. It has.” There was almost an apology in his voice, but for what, I wasn’t sure. “Does Frankie know you’re here?”
I leaned against the railing that ran along the front of his porch and crossed my arms, giving him a friendly smile. “What? I can’t visit an old friend?”
He surveyed me with the older brother’s protectiveness I’d seen a million times, and I was sure he was going to send me on my way, but then he crossed his arms and released a deep breath. “You want to go out for a beer?”
I raised my eyebrows. “On a Sunday?”
His mouth quirked up on the side in a sly smile. “I might be married and a father, but I haven’t changed that much since you last saw me. It’s always a good time for a beer. Besides, if I’m going to be answering some of the questions I think you’re gonna be asking, I’m going to need one. Hold on,” he said. He reached for the door and opened it just enough to lean inside and yell, “I’ll be back in a few hours, babe. Gonna have a beer with an old friend.”
There was an answer affirming for him to have fun, and then Jimmy shut the door like he didn’t want me to see inside. Almost like he was hiding something. Which was ridiculous because it was obvious I now knew this was where Frankie had lived for the last four years. It’s not like he had to hide her from me anymore.
“I can drive,” I said, nodding toward my rental.
“Good.” Jimmy clapped me on the back and followed me to my car. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m going to need more than one drink,” he muttered.
We got in, and I picked my phone up off the console, opening the GPS app. “Where to?” I asked.
“Just drive, and I’ll tell you where to turn. I want to show you something before we head out for that drink.”
I did as he asked and we drove out of his neighborhood in silence. When I couldn’t bear it anymore, I finally spoke.
“I didn’t mean to come here. To your house I mean.”
“Next left,” Jimmy said.
I made the turn, watching the scenery blur by. “I came down to visit Nana. But then…I just had to see…”
He rubbed the side of his finger along his chin in thought. “I get it. But seeing the house she has been living in isn’t going to give you the answers you’re looking for.”
My hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, my palms stinging with the effort. “Is that where you’re taking me now? Some place that will give me the answers I’m looking for?”
Jimmy laughed harshly. “Hell, no. Only Frankie has the answers you’re looking for, and you already know where she is.”
“But you know why she left,” I prodded. “So you have the answers too.”
I felt Jimmy turn to look at me and he shook his head. “Just because I know them, doesn’t mean I can give them to you. And even if she told me I could, I wouldn’t.”
What the hell did that mean? He was acting like she’d murdered someone. What could be so bad to lead us to where we were now?
I bit down the frustration. “Maybe that just means it’s no real answer at all.”
Jimmy huffed. “And if you believed that, you wouldn’t have come knocking on my door. You would have turned your back on her and not thought twice about it. You know Frankie as well as I do…and I expect maybe even better than I do. You know that everything she does has a purpose.”
He was right. Frankie had always been very deliberate in her choices—she had goals, and she never wasted effort or emotion on something that didn’t further her dream. When she turned fourteen, she got a job working at the local marina. She said most of the boaters were assholes with more money than sense, but the tips she made were worth any grief she put up with. Other girls we knew were spending their cash on trips to the mall, Frankie was saving for a dirt bike.
And when she got that bike, she trained on it every moment she could. Most kids her age were content to sit around and wait for things to be given to them, to be told what they could and couldn’t do. Not Frankie. She had a dream and, as Jimmy had said, everything she did had a purpose to help her achieve that dream. The only person I knew who was more motivated than Frankie was Dallas.
Yes, maybe the Frankie I knew always had a purpose, but that didn’t help me understand her actions. That didn’t help erase any bitterness or confusion I felt. And with Jimmy’s refusal to give me any details, I was feeling spiteful.
“What’s the purpose of selling Nana’s house?” I asked, bitterly.
Jimmy didn’t react to my accusing tone. Instead, he answered matter-of-factly.
“To pay for Nana’s treatments. Frankie is determined for Nana to get back her speech and mobility and independence. We found Nana a fantastic facility where we can visit her often, but it doesn’t come cheap.”
He reached up to rub his chin again.
“You’ve seen my house. It’s a good home and I’m proud of it, but I’m not rich.” He shifted in his seat self-consciously. “We’ve all maxed out our credit cards, and I’ve taken out a second mortgage. The only thing of value we have left to barter is the house we grew up in. As Frankie said, if it’s a choice between the house and Nana’s health, it’s not a choice at all.”
He turned to face me, and I glanced over to meet his gaze, feeling sufficiently cowed. I didn’t answer.
“What good is a home when the heart of it isn’t around to fill it with life anymore?” he asked.
I turned to face the road in silence, feeling like an ass for judging Frankie for selling the house without knowing the details. Jimmy was right. I knew Frankie, at least I used to, and the Frankie I knew would sacrifice something she loved, but only if it was necessary. And if I were wearing her shoes, I would choose Nana over the house, too.
***
We pulled off the main highway and onto a well-traveled dirt road. In the distance, I could see a large parking lot filled with cars, and beyond that there were a few buildings. With the windows down, the sound of revving motors and cheering could be heard.
The sign at the entrance read “Woodsbrook Gap Motocross Park.” Jimmy directed me past all the cars to a spot near the front that had a sign for employee parking. We got out, and I took a deep breath of the hot summer air that was heavy with dust. Through a breezeway to the side, I could just barely see the track beyond, the dirt mounds and hills speckled with riders, the sounds of racers and fans echoing in the distance.
“Frankie comes here a lot?” I guessed.
Jimmy shut the door and leaned both hands on the hood of the car to look at me. “She doesn’t just come here. She works here. Come on.” He turned and waved over his shoulder with his hand in a motion that meant for me to follow him.
We went through the double glass doors at the entrance to the main building, and as soon as we entered, I
was face-to-face with a life-sized version of Frankie. She was dressed in race gear, a helmet tucked under her arm and resting on her hip. One hand holding the handle of a muddy dirt bike. The top of the floor-to-ceiling poster said Ride Hard, and at the bottom, a name was signed in twelve-inch high letters. The handwriting of the signature was familiar, but not the name—Allie George.
“Allie George?” I asked.
Jimmy bit down on his bottom lip, staring at the image. “She thought you might try to find her.”
I had. Unsuccessfully. I’d searched the roster of every race track across the United States that I could find. Not a single DiGorgio to be found.
“When she moved here, Francesca Alessandra DiGorgio became Allie George,” he replied sadly. “She’s worked hard and made a name for herself here. It might not have been the dream she initially wanted, but she’s…” He took a deep breath. “She works hard, and she’s amazing,” he finally said.
I reached up and linked both hands behind my neck, pulling until my head dropped down as I turned away from the image of Frankie looking like I knew she always would—fearless, strong, a winner. “So you’re telling me this to prove that she doesn’t need me? That her life is perfect without me?”
Jimmy laughed darkly. “I never said it was perfect. And I certainly never said she didn’t need you. She needed you plenty, but she survived…thrived despite that.”
I dropped my hands and glared at him. “Just fucking tell me whatever it is you want to say. I didn’t come here for riddles or to take blame for something I had nothing to do with.”
Nodding, Jimmy rested his hand on my shoulder. “I’m not blaming you for anything. I just wanted you to see that she was doing something she loved even though she felt she had to give up something else she loved.”
“Are you saying she left me to do this? I would have never asked her to give this up to stay with me.”
“I know. Trust me, I know,” he said in exasperation. “Her reasons for leaving you have nothing to do with this, I promise you that much. I guess all I’m trying to say is that over the last four years you’ve been doing something you love with your brother, and she’s been doing something she loves here. And although you’ve been on separate paths, it doesn’t have to stay that way. When she finally gets the courage to tell you her reasons for leaving, I only hope that you remember that.”
Hated (Hearts of Stone #3) Page 19
