The phone dropped from her hand. “I…you…that’s not true.”
“It is true.”
My chest heaved, and I sucked in air. The glass I held slipped from my fingers and bounced off the floor with a dull thud. Mom sobbed uncontrollably.
“You’ve gone too far, Gemini,” my dad shouted. The threat in his voice matched the malice on his face. He ushered Mom from the room. They disappeared down the hall, leaving me alone to survey the kitchen from my own eyes. My life as shattered as the dish remnants littering the floor.
Chapter 5
My dad and Mom were still sleeping off their hangovers when Travis picked me up the next morning. I envied his status as a college freshman and the freedom it gave him. While I’d had enough credits after my junior year, I’d taken advantage of the post secondary education option that allowed me to earn college credit at Prairie Flats’s expense. It was a decision I sorely regretted at the moment. If I had it to do over, I would have graduated early and moved out regardless of the cost.
Then, I’d be on my own, not on my way to the high school.
I flipped down the visor and inspected my reflection. Black smudges ringed my eyes. A purple bruise tinted my cheekbone despite the foundation I’d applied.
“He do that to you?”
I pushed against the discoloration to feel the pain beneath. “I slipped doing dishes. The counter hit my cheek on the way down.”
Travis sighed. “You know you can tell me anything.”
Was there anything to tell? I replayed the night in my head. My dad and Mom returning drunk. Hollering in the kitchen. I slipped on a water spot, pulling the dish drainer with me. The mess was still there. “Sorry to disappoint you, Oh Knight In Shining Armor, but I only need rescuing from my clumsy self.”
Travis traced the bruise, down my cheek, to the curve of my lips. His eyes pierced into mine. “I suppose I can’t save you from yourself, can I?”
I nipped his finger. “Nope. Only I can do that.”
He pulled his eyes back to the road. “Then let’s get you to school before you’re late.”
But the closer we got, the more knotted my stomach became. I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting through classes for the next week. Not with granny’s funeral tomorrow and the ever-present headache since Friday night. I forged a note excusing me from high school until after the New Year. With the university already on winter break, I now had a two week hiatus from all my classes.
After gathering my make-up assignments, I talked with my supervisor at the nursing home and took the upcoming week off from work, as well. I had until next Monday—the day after Christmas—to get my life back in order.
It didn’t seem like nearly enough time, but when I called Buckley’s Funeral Home to confirm the arrangements for Granny’s service, I realized staying in school might have been the better option. At least then I would have been busy. Granny had already made the big decisions like cremation versus burial and which urn would best suit her for eternity. Even her programs were done. The single decision I made seemed small in comparison: the wake would take place immediately preceding the funeral, not the day before.
With the funeral home out of the way, Travis drove me the hour to Holy Redeemer in Medville to finish up the service details. Yet, I still felt incomplete, as if there was something I should be doing before heading home. I kept coming back to my parents’ secret, Granny’s promise and Clarence. While he was nice enough, and Granny had seemed to like him, something about him felt off. Even my dad had gotten pissed when Clarence showed up at the hospital.
If he and Granny had been such good friends, why hadn’t she told me about him? Why had I never met him before the single most important day of her life? Was he the secret my parents had kept hidden from me all these years?
Thinking Granny may have left me a clue, I directed Travis to Granny’s house. I paused at the door—my hand frozen on the cold knob—and almost turned back. I’d never been here without Granny around. Even knowing I would always be welcome inside, I felt like an intruder. Travis stepped up behind me. His warm fingers covered my own, giving me strength to enter.
The house smelled of cinnamon and newly scrubbed floors. The counter beside the stove held a small frosted cake and a vase of daisies—my favorite—only slightly wilted. Nothing had changed, except that Granny didn’t greet me with a kiss and a mug of chai tea.
A present addressed to me sat next to the flowers. A moan escaped my lips, and Travis took the card from me and read it aloud. “My dearest Gem, I already miss you. Stay strong and have a happy birthday.”
My birthday wasn’t until May.
Through the wrapping paper, I felt the heft of the last two books in the trilogy. My knees gave out, and I sank to the floor. I cradled the books to my chest, knowing I would never enjoy them without Granny.
Travis sat beside me, bringing the cake with him. He lit the candles and sang to me, holding my hand until the flames burned low and sputtered against the frosting.
“She knew.” I sagged against him, picturing Granny’s very last Friday night. While I selfishly danced the halftime show, she carefully wrapped my present and frosted a cake for a birthday she would never get to share. “How did she know?”
“Sometimes people do.”
He was right, of course. Working at the nursing home had taught me that some terminal patients just knew—“I won’t be here for your shift tomorrow,” they’d say. Granny, it seemed, had been no different. The phone call that had niggled after the game Friday night came back full force. Granny, asking me to visit her a day early. But even one day had been too late. Instead of eating cake together, we’d spent her last hours in a hospital bed.
“What if I hadn’t come today? My cake would have been ruined. Shriveled and moldy.” Just like my life would be without Granny.
“She knew you would. Just like she’ll know if you don’t enjoy it now.”
I pictured Granny with wings and a halo, peering down at me from the clouds, and pushed the cake away. The vision hurt too much. “I can’t.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He tilted my head in the direction of the refrigerator. A photo hung by a magnet. Granny smiled at me, as if she could see me sitting on her floor, holding a mini strawberry shaped cake and a birthday gift too early to unwrap. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can. And you will.” Trav’s words echoed the look on Granny’s face. With a mock sigh he scooped up a chunk of cake and held it to my lips. “Look at you, seventeen and you can’t even feed yourself yet.”
My lips parted under Granny’s stare. Travis and I ate cake with our fingers until only crumbs remained. When we finished, he grabbed a dishrag and wiped my hands and face. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I turned away. Nobody, not even he, could heal the gaping wound left by Granny’s death.
Unsettled, I wandered the house, running my fingers across framed black-and-white photos of Granny in her younger days. In them, I couldn’t tell what color her eyes were. Green like my dad’s, or the color of the sky just before it snowed like mine. Already details seemed to be fading, and I feared losing her altogether. I needed to learn her secret before I forgot she had one at all.
Each room of Granny’s house was neatly perfect. There was no place for hidden secrets in the upstairs living space: no half-filled boxes littering the corners or over-flowing closets to dig through. If she’d kept anything of importance, it would be in her bedroom or the basement. I made my way to the hallway, hesitating in front of my old bedroom from the days when I’d lived with her.
A fresh bundle of cinnamon sticks on the nightstand infused the room with the scent of my childhood. My dream catcher hung in the window, its iridescent green and blue feathers hanging from braided strands. The specially made headboard held dozens of my favorite childhood books. I strode over and popped the latch to a hidden panel at the base of the oak bed. As a child, I’d kept my treasures in this
space, sometimes squeezing in there myself to eat a forbidden treat or play with one of the barn cats. Granny had always encouraged my privacy, though not always my mischievousness. The cubby space was empty. I closed the panel and forced myself to face the other door. If I didn’t go in there now, I never would.
My old computer sat atop an antique table-turned-computer desk. The single drawer held a handful of office supplies, not dark secrets from mine or Granny’s past. A quick glance in the cedar chest revealed the hand-embroidered linens Granny had made for my wedding day. My eyes burned at yet another gift she would be unable to properly give me. The blue jean quilt she stitched out of my old pants stretched across the queen-sized bed. Its presence in Granny’s room was an invitation I couldn’t miss.
Her room was now mine. If I wanted it.
If I’m allowed to have it.
My dad often talked about selling the farmstead. In his mind, the acreage, coupled with the pristine 1880’s house and nearly perfect out-buildings, would bring in a small fortune. Mom, however, had an eye for Granny’s museum-worthy antiques, some of which she’d restored in more sober times.
The thought of these beautiful heirlooms getting pawned for whiskey money and poker chips made my stomach churn. “You think they’ll still gamble when they get Granny’s money?”
“What makes you think they’ll get anything?”
“Because that’s what happens. They’ve wanted this place for as long as I can remember, and I’m not old enough to stand in their way.”
Something flickered in Trav’s eyes.
The skin on the nape of my neck prickled. “What?”
“Nothing.” But his voice grew deeper under his lie. He was definitely hiding something from me.
My temple throbbed and a gray fog floated around the edges of my vision. Goosebumps covered my body. Fearing another blackout, I made my way to the kitchen to focus on making tea. Working in Granny’s favorite space relaxed me. By the time I carried a tray of drinks to the living room, I’d calmed down.
Travis coaxed a fire to life while I watched from the couch. It struck me that Granny’s home was the only place we had ever shared a normal moment. Besides the night Granny died, I’d never been past the entry of his house, and he’d never been invited through the door of mine.
He grabbed a soda and settled into a chair across from me. “What happens now?”
Sometimes his eyes were so intense I couldn’t look into them. I blew into my mug, letting the steam rise between us. “What do you mean?”
“You’re almost eighteen.”
“And?”
“And you don’t get along with your folks.”
I nodded carefully. Travis knew some things about my home life, but not everything. And not to what extent. He knew about my parents’ penchant for alcohol and their insatiable need to gamble. He didn’t know that because of those addictions, we lived off my paychecks more than theirs. Nobody needed to know about my dad’s inability to follow through on anything—especially a job—or Mom’s complete lack of emotional stability. Certainly, nobody needed to know how I lived my life in my own home. It’s why nobody ever got invited over and the reason my circle of friends had shrunk to include only Travis and, more recently, the Dozen.
“Nothing’s changed other than losing the only family I care about. Besides, I have no other options, no other place to go.”
“My house.”
Any girl would be lucky to garner such devotion from Travis.
Then why can’t you love him back?
And doesn’t he deserve it after all he’s given you?
A familiar tinge of pain pushed the thoughts out of my head. “Your house what?”
“You could move in with me.”
“Yes, I’m sure your dad would think that’s a lovely arrangement. My parents, too.” I sipped my tea and toyed with the idea. While it would be nice to wake up to eggs scrambled by a barefoot chef every morning, doing so would make it that much harder to leave when I graduated in five months. Travis shot pleading puppy dog eyes at me, and I relented slightly. “I’ll stay with you until the funeral. After that I’ll go back home. I have a lot to think about after this weekend.”
Like figuring out what is wrong with me and why everyone is hiding things from me.
My thoughts strayed once again to Clarence. If Granny’s house didn’t yield any answers, maybe I should go to the source. I set my mug down and curled up with the throw pillows I’d made before I’d given up sewing for knitting. The fire crackled. I closed my eyes. “Remind me again of how Clarence fits into this whole picture.”
“He’s my grandfather.”
“Uh huh. I got that already. Next?”
“He’s a psychologist.” Trav’s voice conveyed far more than the simple statement implied. A whole history hid somewhere in his tone.
This rankled. Granny was the strongest person I knew. No way she needed a shrink. “And?”
“And nothing.”
I opened my eyes and peeked at Travis. He stared into the fire, a half-grin on his face.
I threw a pillow at him. “And?”
“I think they, you know…”
“No, Travis Stone. I don’t know.”
“…liked each other.”
I remembered their last moments together at the hospital. If he was her shrink…. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“What? For old people to…”
“Oh, now that is just wrong.”
Travis threw the pillow back. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Just ewwwwza.”
“Why, was your grandma that gross?”
I chucked the pillow at his head. “Not my granny, you idiot. They’re just so…”
“Old?” Travis grinned, and his dimples popped out on his cheeks.
“It’s weird.”
“Well, I certainly hope to love someone when I’m old and weird.”
“You are already are.”
“Old?”
“Weird. And gross.” It felt good to be normal. If only for a minute.
Travis burst out laughing and put his hand on his chest. “Be still my heart. I think I’m in love.”
My own heart stuttered. “You wish.”
His face fell as he settled back into the wing chair and faced the fire. I suppressed the urge to cuddle on his lap and focused on Granny’s Christmas tree to keep from making my way to his chair. Headaches and heartaches, that’s all I’d felt since Friday, and I wasn’t any closer to finding out why.
“Hey, Trav, do you think your grandpa would talk to me?”
“Absolutely. He’d love to,” he answered with more enthusiasm than the question demanded.
Again, that niggle that something wasn’t quite right. “How do you know?”
Travis crumpled his soda can. “I just know these things.”
The hair on my arms raised over a layer of goose bumps. Sometimes I had the feeling that Travis knew far more about me and my life than I ever remembered telling him. Yet like Granny, he never pried and seemed to have more patience with me than God.
Maybe it was my turn to start prying. “Do you want to help me search Granny’s house?”
He raised his eyebrows. “What for?”
“I’m not exactly sure.” I stood and gathered our dishes. “You know I used to live with Granny, right?”
Travis followed me to the kitchen, his voice hesitant when he answered. “Yes.”
“Do you know why?”
More hesitation. “You’ve never told me, no.”
“Well, neither do I. But I overheard my parents fighting about some secret on our way to the hospital. It sounded pretty serious and obviously has something to do with me. I want to find out what it is.”
Travis gently grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him. “Is now the right time to do this?”
My arms burned under his touch despite the layers of clothes between our skin. His lips taunted me. No. I’d rather spend the night in your arm
s than bury my granny and search for long-lost secrets. I shook away the voice. “I only have a week off of work. It’s now or never.”
“What about asking your parents?”
“Hello, have you met my parents?” A rhetorical question like a thousand others we’d exchanged, but this one felt loaded.
“Hurt my daughter, and I’ll hurt you,” had been the extent of my dad’s pleasantries the day Travis got his driver’s license and came to pick me up for the first time. While my dad had no problem inflicting deep emotional wounds upon me, he didn’t seem to want anyone else to hurt me. Or maybe he just wanted to do it all himself.
Pain flashed across Trav’s face, and he opened his mouth to say something. The shrill call of the phone cut through the house, freezing the words on his lips, saving me from things I might not want to hear.
The phone rang again. And again.
Travis squeezed my shoulders before letting go. “It won’t answer itself, Gemi.”
I made my way to the phone, hoping the ringing would stop before I got there. I couldn’t bear someone asking to talk to Granny. The answering machine picked up.
“Hello. You have reached Sophia Baker. You just missed me, but I will call you back as soon as I get your message.”
Her voice startled me. When the machine finished beeping and the telemarketer left his message, I replayed the recording, over and over, mesmerized by the only connection I had to my grandmother. “You just missed me.”
“I still miss you,” I whispered back. “Forever and always.”
Travis slipped his hand into mine and tugged me away from the counter. “I think it’s time for us to go, Gem. We can look through the house another day.”
We washed the dishes, and I gathered my things. Before leaving, I made one last trip to Granny’s room and picked up the picture of us on the swing this summer. We had been reading Little Women when Travis stopped by to pick me up on his way home from work.
Whispering Minds Page 3