Chapter 7, Part 1
Grandpa was snoring loudly on the overstuffed
chair. Jana finally finished in the kitchen and was hitting the lights as the
clock struck midnight. She followed the snoring into the living room and leaned
over to gently shake him. “Wake up, Grandpa. Wake up and go to sleep.”
Straightening up, she rubbed her tired temples. “Now that makes a whole lot of
sense.”
Grandpa stirred and spoke from a dream.
“Melissa, tell Jana and Roy that they have got to do their chores or they can’t
go to town.”
She looked down at the deep furrows in her
father’s forehead and studied the wrinkles around his mouth. He seemed suddenly
so much older than he had even a month before. For the first time she noticed
the brown age spots on his hands. She wanted to lift the ancient hand and kiss
it, but she resisted the urge. Smiling, she tucked the Afghan around him and
turned to the window. She froze. Someone or something was standing in the
shadows on the porch. Her heart began to race.
At first she wanted to call out or kick
Grandpa. Then the figure lit a match. She smiled. It was twenty below and
Mother still had enough hold on Roy
“I thought you were asleep.”
Roy
“Where’d you go?”
“Down to the bottom of the hill where we used
to play in the big woods. It’s a shopping mall now.”
Jana nodded. “I saw it when we came for the
funeral.”
“And the old school? You see that? Gone.”
“Yeah. Condos.” Jana sighed.
“Things really change, don’t they?”
“Some things do. Some don’t.” She leaned her
head on her brother’s shoulder. “Do you love her?”
“Who?”
“Fern.”
“Of
course I love her.”
“Are
you going to marry her?”
Roy
That’s all he needed to say.
“Yeah. Dewey. You really
must love her.”
They stood together
until Jana’s toes went numb. It felt so good to have someone hold her, even if
it was only her brother. “Well, I’m going to turn in.”
The clanging bells on
the opening door almost brought Grandpa out of his dream. “I tell you, Missy,”
he shouted, “some people would kick if they were hung with a new rope.”
Jana leaned in over her
father and tucked the blanket firmly around him. “Some things change. Some
don’t.”
Roy Sorels
“He doesn’t show it.
Stubborn old goat.”
“Tries not to.”
“It’s either jokes or
insults with him,” said Jana. “That’s his way of dealing with it.”
“Dealing with it? That’s
his way of denying it. Keeping people away. But how about you?”
“Me?” Jana was caught
off guard. This was the first time in a month that someone who wasn’t wearing a
clergy collar had asked her about her own feelings. “I’m fine. Okay.” Roy
“You know, no matter how
old you are, as long as your parents are alive, you’re still somebody’s baby.
Someone’s little girl. Little boy. But once they’re gone, you have to grow up
quickly. You don’t have the luxury. The choice. Maybe deep inside it forces you
to see that you’re not going to last forever, either.”
“Maybe.” Jana lifted a
tissue from the pocket of her mother’s robe and laughed as she cried. “I kinda
like it the other way... somebody’s baby.”
“Me, too.” Roy
“Big day.”
“And I’m sure that Dewey
will be awake by six when the rooster crows.”
Jana dabbed her eyes.
“Or when the turkey he stashed under his bed starts to gobble.”
Roy
“Gotcha.”
Roy
“Thanks. That means a
lot.”
“Except, of course, for
the gravy.”
She threw a sofa pillow
at him and turned to unplug the plastic tree.
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