He smiled at me then, satisfied at last. “Okay. Then that’s what we’ll do. I have to go to Home Depot, and then we’ll have some lunch after I take everything by the shop at work. Sound like a plan?”
“Sounds like a very good plan,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
It occurred to me as I trailed behind him a little while later that Grandpa hadn’t asked much about all the time I was spending with Savannah and Vivi. I’d told him, of course, told him that we’d become friends and that I saw them regularly. But he wasn’t one to delve into deep discussion, and when I brought up Annabelle—even on the few occasions that I did—he seemed eager to change course. The woman’s name seemed to set him on edge, and I still didn’t really understand why.
Maybe now was the time to find out.
“Grandpa, I think maybe there’s something I should tell you, and I hope that it doesn’t make you angry,” I said, staring at the back of his head as he stood in deep contemplation of a set of drill bits that had just been put on sale.
“Oh? What’s that?” He sounded a bit distracted, but the fact that he had answered gave me encouragement to barrel on, rather than putting it off until later. Maybe the hardware store would have a euphoric effect on him and make the words I was about to say a little less…problematic?
I blinked and took a deep breath, hoping I wasn’t making a mistake.
“I know you know I’ve become friends with Savannah and Vivi, but what I haven’t told you is that Annabelle and I have been spending a bit of time together, too. We’ve had lunch a couple of times, and she took me shopping the other day.”
Much to my own surprise, that shopping trip had actually been profitable. Despite some protesting by me, I’d tried on what had seemed like a never-ending stream of shoes and clothing—everything from kitten heels and sandals to blouses and skirts—and I’d come away from the exhausting afternoon with two pairs of very cute ballet flats, a few tops, and a pair of jeans that were in a dark enough wash to look age appropriate and flattering, rather than as if I might be trying too hard to recapture my teenage years. Not that I would have had the means to buy all of that on my own budget. Quite the contrary. But when the time came to whittle it all down and take something to the register, Annabelle had given me the death stare and declared that she was going to pay for all of it. And—lest I get any wild ideas into my head—she would leave me there to find my own way home if I didn’t comply.
Annabelle could be quite persuasive when she wanted to be. And who was I to argue? Unlike so much of my generation, I was respecting my elders.
Once I’d gotten them home, of course, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. They were all wonderfully flattering, even on my diminished frame, but I still felt so unworthy of them. I wasn’t used to such generosity, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spent more than ten dollars on any item of clothing. Spending—shopping of any kind, really, even for groceries and other necessities—always made me feel anxious. I budgeted like crazy and bought as little as possible, ever vigilant about not living beyond my means and unable to escape the sense that I couldn’t afford anything that wasn’t absolutely necessary. We have no money in the account. There’s nothing. They were words I’d heard from my husband many times; words that chilled me now and seemed to echo in my mind with disturbing regularity.
Grandpa’s head swiveled in my direction as though I had smacked the back of it.
“What could you and Annabelle possibly have in common?” he asked, his voice surprised.
“I know you don’t really like her, Grandpa,” I conceded, wondering if I could make him understand any of this. “But she’s really a nice woman, if you give her a chance,” I said slowly. “Grammie did.”
A scowl twisted his mouth and I saw his jaw clench. “Your grammie baked her cakes. But they weren’t friends, Dellie. Annabelle needed a cake, she called Grammie; that was that.”
I studied his eyes, hoping I would get something more before he shut it down for good.
“I think, in their own way, Grammie and Annabelle had made amends, Grandpa. Don’t you? Why do you dislike her so much?” I asked so quietly I wasn’t sure he’d heard the question.
He sighed and shook his head, his shoulders drooping suddenly. He looked tired, almost exhausted. It reminded me, once again, how much of a toll this had all taken on him.
“Dellie, you may not understand this, but people like Annabelle…they do whatever they want, when they want and don’t think twice about it. They have money, so they matter more than anyone else. They can demand more than anyone else, and they get it.”
“That’s really what you think of her?” I asked.
Grandpa nodded.
On the face of it, it made sense. Young George and Annabelle had done just that, in his mind; but from what I could see, she had changed. And while Grammie may have forgiven Annabelle, the damage that had been done was irreversible. For some reason, though, Grandpa still harbored his very own resentment for the woman, and he wasn’t open to the idea of relinquishing that.
Annabelle, on the flip side, was still swimming in years of her own guilt, though she didn’t show it in ways that were readily apparent. But it was there, in the cakes she so loyally ordered from Grammie, in her newly formed interest in me and making me come out of my shell. She was still paying penance for the role she had played in George’s abandonment of my grandmother, still afraid that the baby she’d lost hadn’t been punishment enough.
None of this, of course, was something I could share with my grandfather, standing there in the middle of Home Depot. But it was something that needed to be brought out into the open and fixed, before it was too late. It was one last gift that we could all give Grammie, and I was just hoping that maybe I could help them see that.
Chapter Eighteen
“What are you three ladies up to?” Annabelle asked, sidling up to the table Vivi, Savannah, and I had claimed at Azalea’s few days later.
Vivi stopped her colorful tale about one of the tables she had waited on over the weekend. From what she’d told us so far, she had been this close to breaking out the bottle of General Lee’s drool to pour over their grits.
“Hello to you, too, Annabelle. You’re looking in fine form this morning,” Vivi said, eyebrow arched.
“Why thank you, Vivi. You’re looking well yourself. That shade of lipstick suits you,” Annabelle replied, wisely not taking the bait. She turned her eyes on Savannah and me. “Enjoying this lovely weather?”
It was a kind of small talk I wasn’t used to from Annabelle, but then, this was the first time I was seeing her since our very emotional last meeting. Maybe she was feeling out how she should approach me, now that I knew so much. Not that she was the only one who had reason to feel vulnerable. I might not have told her anything about what had happened in my marriage, but I’d certainly laid myself bare about how much fear I was dealing with all the time. So there was that, an unspoken awkwardness that Savannah and Vivi surely must have sensed, even if they didn’t know what had created it.
It was fascinating, though, having them all here in one place. Surprisingly enough, I’d never actually seen Savannah interact with Annabelle, so I had no idea what dynamic existed between the two women. Did they know each other well? Was Savannah at all intimidated by Annabelle? It would be interesting to watch, to say the least.
“The last few days have been gorgeous,” Savannah agreed, showing no signs of discomfort. “I hope it lasts.” She shifted in her chair for a better vantage point as she looked up at Annabelle. “We’re getting ready to have some lunch, Annabelle. Care to join us?” she asked sweetly, apparently making the executive decision that Annabelle might add interest to our lunchtime gathering. Which she would, but still. It would have been nice to at least have been given more of an input before the invitation was issued.
“Why thank you, Savannah, that would be lovely,” she replied, shooting Vivi a look over her lapse in hospitality.
“I’
m so glad you’re free, Annabelle. Pull up a chair,” Vivi said, a wide grin on her face. Something about it, coupled with her tone, left me feeling slightly uneasy. Just what was she up to?
Annabelle wasted no time in claiming a chair, settling in for the duration of what promised to be a very interesting exchange.
“Have y’all ordered?” she asked, clearly having regained her self-assuredness. I shouldn’t have been surprised that the air of unsettledness she had shown earlier had been so short-lived.
The three of us shook our heads.
“We were listening to Vivi tell us about some people who were in here yesterday. Fascinating,” Savannah chirped. “The nerve!”
“Not everyone had the benefit of being raised with manners,” Annabelle sighed.
“True. Which is precisely why I keep General Lee around. Now, let’s order some lunch before we all starve to death,” she instructed. “Savannah, the usual?”
Savannah nodded, eyes glued to Vivi’s face, no doubt trying to assess her mood now that we had a party crasher. Was she kicking herself now for being the one to suggest that Annabelle join us?
“I’m assuming you’ll have the usual, as well, Annabelle?” Vivi asked, rising from her chair.
“Yes, thank you. Dellie, what would you like?” she asked, directly addressing me for the first time since she’d arrived at our table.
“Um,” I stammered, caught off guard since I hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu yet. Everything here was good; I could have picked up the menu and pointed to something at random, and it would have tasted divine; but no matter how juicy the hamburger, no matter how tender the pot roast, every bite of every crispy French fry or spoonful of sauce would have set off the alarms in my head and made it nearly impossible to hear anything else above the noise. “Can I just get a turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomato on wheat?” I was aware that it was a safe option, rather than one that would qualify as something satisfactory to my bucket list, but I felt my resolve crumble in the face of my unpreparedness. That was really something I was going to have to learn to fight against, that triggered lapse back into my comfort zone.
“Of course! I’ll be right back after I tell Hal what we want.”
Vivi was only gone a minute, but the air shifted the minute she left.
“Savannah, have you put any more thought into my offer?” Annabelle asked, reaching into her purse—today’s selection was a robin’s egg blue that matched the tiny flowers on her silk blouse.
“I have, Annabelle,” she replied, her mouth tipped into a shy smile. “And as generous as it is, I really have to decline.” She shook her head, looking a bit regretful but still resolute.
“Well, if you change your mind, the offer won’t expire.”
“Thank you for that, really. I think, though, that I’d be more comfortable going through a bank. Borrowing money from friends…” Savannah trailed off, shaking her head. “It can become too complicated.”
Annabelle tipped her head. “I respect your foresight on that, Savannah; it’s quite a mature way of thinking.”
“Her mama raised her right,” Vivi said, breaking back into the conversation as she approached. “Lunch will be ready shortly.” She reclaimed her chair, looking at the three of us curiously. “I’m guessing she asked you again about her offer of a loan?” Vivi directed her question to Savannah.
“She did. And I gave her the same answer I always do, much as I appreciate the generosity of it. I just can’t feel comfortable, borrowing money like that from someone I know, even if they aren’t family.” She shook her head emphatically. “I just can’t.”
“No one says you have to,” Vivi replied simply. “Just take it as a sign that people believe in you. Right, Annabelle?” She skewered the little old woman with her eyes, daring her to say otherwise.
“Right.” It was one of the few signs of solidarity I’d witnessed from them, but it was certainly well-founded, from what I had seen of Savannah’s baking skills. I could only imagine what a force the two woman could be together, should they ever choose to align and use their powers for good.
“I can understand your reasoning,” I murmured. “The whole subject of money can create enormous tension, and that’s not always something you want to have to deal with on top of the stress of getting a business up and running.”
Savannah shook her head solemnly. “No. Lord knows the idea of starting makes me nervous enough!”
“Well, I for one know you’re going to be just fine, whenever you do decide to do it.” Vivi reached out and rested a hand on Savannah’s. “Now. Dellie,” she said in a clipped tone that made me feel a sweat coming on. “Annabelle tells me she took you shopping the other day for some lovely new clothes. From what I’ve seen so far, I’m guessing that none of them have actually even made their way out of the shopping bags you brought them home in, right?”
I blinked. The woman hardly knew me, but she certainly seemed to have me pegged.
“Umm,” I stammered, not knowing how to reply.
Really, what could I say? She was right. Everything was presently tucked away in their respective bags, tags still on them and largely undisturbed since the day Annabelle and I had gone shopping. I was still unsure that I should even keep them. Not that I had the receipt for anything; Annabelle had seen to that—probably to ensure that I would have no way of taking them back.
And even though a makeover was on my list, even though I now had the perfect way to really and truly make progress on that particular challenge, I was still so insecure about it all that I was almost paralyzed by indecision over what to wear every time I considered my new clothes. Hence my lack of progress on the sartorial front.
“Um nothing,” Vivi said, skewering me with her eyes. “What good are they going to do you unless you wear them? Honestly, girl. You’ve got to learn to let other people be generous to you when they want to.” She paused, pursing her lips and arching an eyebrow. “But you’ve also got to learn to be generous to yourself, Dellie. None of us expect new clothes to fix whatever is hurt in there—” she tapped a light finger on my chest, just above my heart “—but it’ll at least make you feel a little bit better about yourself.”
I stared at her, wondering just what it was that Annabelle had told her. Knowing Annabelle, though, I had a feeling that she had disclosed nothing about our conversation or my confession—however incomplete it might have been. She was far too discreet for that and seemed to place a higher value on keeping confidence than one might have assumed.
All three women were watching me now, and I could only wonder what each of them might be thinking. Was I ready to let them in? Part of me was aching to unload, to tell them everything that had happened over the past few years with my marriage, to tell them how the anxieties that had begun during my teenage years had now become crippling in so many ways. To tell them how afraid I was that I would never find my way back to being spontaneous and adventurous, someone who was ready to embrace life rather than hide from it.
Yes, I still had my sense of humor, and there was enough spunk left in me that it came out to play every once in awhile when I let my guard down. But most of the time felt like I was on high alert, defending myself from some unknown threat. Afraid to taste life—both literally and figuratively.
Bigger than the part of me that wanted to tell them, though, was the part of me that kept me silent, the part of me that was afraid that they would think I was pathetic.
“You still haven’t told us your story, Dellie,” Vivi said, reading my mind. “We made a deal, remember? And so far, you haven’t held up your end of the bargain. You can trust us, you know.” She searched my face. “All three of us care about you. You may not have been here long, but I think we’ve all gotten to know each other enough for you to see that we want to be your friends.”
I nodded. They had. All three of them had become great sounding boards, great sources of inspiration, even in the little time I’d been here. I was extremely glad I’d met all of them
; and they each, in their own way, gave me hope for all the ways that life could grow past struggle.
That still didn’t ease my own misgivings about telling them what had happened.
I looked from woman to woman, each with their own very complicated tales to tell, and wondered what they would say to me, once I had finally given them my story.
Annabelle, who had married a man she loved and built a successful life with. Still, that life hadn’t come without cost, and she was suffering her own guilt at having caused someone else pain. Would she ever believe that she had been forgiven for that, believe that the baby she had lost hadn’t been some sort of punishment?
Vivi, who had been married twice, to men who could have broken her belief that love really was possible. A woman who had been raised by a mother dedicated to making a good life for herself and her child. Would she ever realize that she was just as strong and capable as her mother? Could she see that, in her own way, Annabelle’s interference with her father had been borne out of love, rather than maliciousness? Could Vivi fully grant her forgiveness?
Savannah, who had lost a good man, far too soon; and who was now left dreaming dreams that she was afraid to reach out and grab, for fear that she would fail and have no one to catch her. Would she ever feel confidence in her own talent and realize that she was loved and supported by everyone who knew her?
These women—each with their struggles—were beautiful and strong and inspiring, whether they realized it or not. They were radiant and rare, women whose lives were shaped by those very struggles, but who were not letting that define them. They shared the common ground of widowhood, but none of them wore it as a brand. Rather, it was part of their history, another layer of their growth and shaping. These were women I could learn from, and I didn’t want to lose their respect.
Still, I owed it to them to prove that I had faith in each of their characters, to trust them with my vulnerability just as they had trusted me with theirs.
Life Without You Page 18
