by Megan Hart
The back door opens. Andy’s there, his hair standing on end with sweat, his eyes wide. Mikey behind him.
“What the hell?” Andy says, but Gabe finds no words, only laughter, and it feels so good he doesn’t want to stop.
“Andy, Andy, Andy,” Janelle says, drawing him out onto the porch, knuckling his head fondly. “What’s happening, brother? Want to hear a joke?”
Somehow, she gets Andy laughing, too, though the next joke she tells is just raunchy enough to make Mikey frown. The four of them stand on the back porch, giggling and sharing the cigarettes Andy goes inside to pinch from the old man’s drawer. They stand there for an hour or more, until Mrs. Decker flicks the back porch light and Janelle has to go inside.
“She makes everything seem like not such a big deal,” Andy says when they face the last bit of mess inside. “Doesn’t she?”
Gabe doesn’t reply, just gets out a broom and dustpan and starts sweeping. It’s a question that doesn’t need an answer, as if somehow admitting it aloud would change it or make him have to own up to something he doesn’t want to. It’s true, though, he thinks as they work together to put the kitchen back into shape.
Janelle always makes everything seem as if it will be okay.
EIGHTEEN
JANELLE HAD DROPPED a stitch somewhere along the way. Probably more than one. Consequently, her afghan was lopsided and narrowing with every row.
“By the time I’m done, it will be a scarf.”
Nan laughed, pushing a tissue against her mouth to shield a cough. It took her a few minutes to recover, and her eyes were watery by the time she did. She wiped her mouth and crumpled the tissue before tucking it into the plastic shopping bag she hung from her walker and used for trash.
“Rip it out and start over,” she said.
Janelle sighed. “But I’ve been working on it for, like, two days. That’s two days lost.”
“Not lost,” Nan said. “Just think of it as practice.”
“Practice,” Janelle said doubtfully, and held up the mass of yarn she was trying to make into something pretty.
“You can’t get anything right if you don’t practice.” Nan coughed again, then gestured. “Let me see that.”
In minutes she’d plucked out the last few rows. Her knitting needles clacked slowly, but carefully. Janelle could remember a time when her grandmother could finish an entire baby blanket over the course of a few nights’ TV watching. She’d knitted them for friends, family, children in the hospital. Skeins and skeins of yarn in every color. Janelle had often done her homework to the sound of those needles clackity-clacking. It was painful to watch how difficult it was now for Nan to knit.
Nan held up the blanket. “See? There.”
Janelle took the needles and yarn. “Thanks, Nan.”
“You just need to take your time. Pay attention. That’s all.” Nan coughed again and lay back against the couch. Her cheeks were too pink, her eyes too bright. She didn’t have a fever; Janelle had checked for that. And it was better than her looking wan and lethargic. Still, she didn’t look like herself.
“Bennett! Let’s go, you’re going to miss the bus!”
Backpack slung over his shoulder, Bennett pushed past her, heading for the back door. “Bye.”
“Where’s your hat?” Janelle asked.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I lost it.”
“Oh, Bennett.” Janelle sighed and looked him over, noting a bruise on his chin. “What happened to your face? And how do you keep losing your hats?”
“Don’t know.”
Janelle considered calling him on the sullen tone, but then looked at the clock. “Go to school.”
She watched until he’d left the room, then studied the tangle of yarn in her hands. “Maybe I’d be better off knitting him a bunch of hats.”
“He doesn’t lose them, you know.”
Janelle looked at her grandmother. “What do you mean?”
Nan laughed. “He hides them. Because he doesn’t want to wear them. The other children probably don’t wear hats.”
“Yeah, and they’re probably more used to the cold,” Janelle said. “But that makes sense. I’ll talk to him about it.”
“Your daddy always refused to wear a hat. He’d just throw them down, right in front of me, when he was small. Stomp his feet. Oh, he was stubborn. When he got older, he’d just say to me, ‘Mom, I’m not wearing a hat, and you can’t make me.’ And you know what? I couldn’t.”
Janelle had no trouble imagining her dad as a rebel. “Did he give you lots of trouble, Nan?”
“Oh, yes. He was the first one, you know. I made all my mistakes with him.” Nan shook her head. “But by the time the youngest came along, well, I guess I’d had enough practice.”
“I feel bad, sometimes....”
Nan looked up, though Janelle had stopped herself. “About Benny? Being your only? Or about him not having a daddy?”
There was no point in pretending to be offended. In California it had never seemed to matter there was only a mother. Here it was different. “Yes. That. Both.”
Nan waved a hand. “So get him a brother or a sister.”
“The no-daddy thing sort of makes that hard, Nan.”
Her grandma snorted softly. “You found one the first time, didn’t you? You really think you couldn’t go out and find another one, if you tried a little?”
From anyone else in the world, that would’ve sounded like an insult. From Nan it just sounded like good advice. Janelle shrugged. “Not sure I’m interested.”
“In another baby? Or a man?”
“Both.” Janelle focused narrowly on the afghan, making sure to count her stitches. Taking her time. She looked up to see Nan giving her a serious look. “What?”
“Just because you make a mistake once doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try again, Janelle. I mean, look at your mother. She moved on, didn’t she?”
Janelle let her blanket project settle into her lap. “You think my mom made a mistake with my dad?”
“Oh, I don’t mean you, honey. But...I think she made a mistake in loving him so hard. She should’ve given up on him long before she did. Hand me another tissue, honey.” Nan wiped her mouth with the one Janelle passed her, then grimaced as she spit into it. She screwed up the tissue and put it in her trash bag.
Janelle watched in silence at first, not sure what to think. “But...he’s your son.”
“I know that. And I already told you what sort of boy he’d been, didn’t I? You think I didn’t know what kind of man he grew into? Maybe I should’ve remarried after Dick died. Maybe it was because your dad missed his father, I don’t know. Or sometimes, some people just have trouble their whole lives.” Nan shook her head. “That Gabe Tierney, for example.”
Uneasily, Janelle glanced out the window, though of course, she could only glimpse the Tierneys’ house and no sign of Gabe himself. “Oh, Nan. C’mon.”
“He shot his own brother in the head, for goodness’ sakes. And that business with his mother. And his father, that old grump....” Nan sighed. “I’m just saying that Gabe Tierney’s had trouble his whole life, and probably always will.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say.”
“Well,” Nan said stubbornly, “it’s true. And his brothers, nice as can be. Father Michael’s a priest—you can’t get much nicer than that. And Andrew, that poor boy. Well, he’s had to make a life out of something terrible, and it’s a struggle, but he makes it.”
“You don’t give Gabe enough credit.”
Nan smiled. “Ahhh. So you do like him.”
Janelle couldn’t deny that, but wouldn’t admit it. “Why didn’t you ever get married again?”
“Oh...” Nan thought about it for a few seconds. “Because I loved your grandpa too much, I guess. Dick was my high school sweetheart, you know.”
“I can’t imagine that. Marrying the person you dated in high school.”
“Can’t you?” Nan asked, a little t
oo sagely for Janelle’s taste. “Anyway, that’s what most of us did in those days, you know. And all the boys were going off to war. If you wanted to get married, well. You found yourself a man and you married him quick, in case he didn’t come back home.”
“How long did you date before you got married?”
Nan made a thoughtful sound. “Let’s see. Well, I knew him my whole life, of course. But we started going as a couple when I was seventeen. The beginning of my senior year. And we dated, on and off. We didn’t go steady until closer to graduation. It was different back then, you know. Dating meant just that, and even going steady didn’t mean more than hand-holding or maybe a little bit of kissing now and then. Not if you were good.”
“So how did he ask you to marry him? Did you know right away you wanted to?” The idea of loving someone enough to want to spend the rest of her life with him seemed so foreign. Unreachable. Unrealistic. Janelle knew it happened. She just couldn’t imagined what it would be like if it happened to her.
“Well. He’d made me angry by making eyes at Angela Reynolds one time at the school dance, so I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. Oh, my, was I angry.” Nan chuckled softly, a little sadly. “I told him if he didn’t have eyes for only me, then I didn’t want anything to do with him.”
“Good for you.”
“I was spitting nails,” Nan added. “But a week or so passed, and he found out he was going to be leaving soon for the Navy. He came to my house and asked my father for permission to marry me. I was listening from the front stairs. I was sure my dad would say no...he liked to tease that way. But he must’ve known it was important, because all he said was, ‘Dicky, if you want her, you’re going to have to prove to her you’re worth it.’”
Janelle’s grandfather had died long before she was born, when her own father was only eighteen. She’d heard lots of stories about Grandpa Dick, but never this one. “So then he asked you, and you said yes?”
Nan laughed. “Oh, no. He gave me a ring. The tiniest, sweetest diamond you ever saw. I knew he couldn’t afford much, but that wasn’t what mattered. Some girls didn’t get a diamond at all, you know. But I did. I knew then he wouldn’t be making eyes at any other girl. But he gave me the ring and I told him I’d have to think about it.”
“Nan! You didn’t.”
She laughed again, her eyes bright. “I did. So he told me he understood, but that he surely hoped I’d give him an answer before he had to ship out, because it would be nice to know that when he went away, he’d have me to come back to.”
It was one of the most romantic stories Janelle had ever heard. “Wow.”
“So, just before he was due to leave for training, he asked me to the pictures. And I put the ring on, but I turned it around so the diamond was on the inside of my hand, you know. And I had him sit to my left. Then, when he took my hand...” Nan’s eyes grew bright with tears. “He took my hand and felt that I was wearing the ring. And that’s how he knew I was saying yes.”
Janelle swiped at tears. “That’s a great story, Nan.”
“He was a wonderful man. The love of my life.”
“And that’s why you never got married again?”
Nan sighed. “Well...at first. But of course, after a bit I did think I might want to meet someone else. Maybe get married. But the trouble was, when my boys were young I didn’t want to meet anyone, and by the time I felt ready to, I guess I was just too used to being by myself. The only men who asked me out were widowers with kids of their own, and I was done raising children, especially someone else’s. They all just wanted someone to do for them. Cook, clean, what have you. So I never met the right man, I suppose. Maybe there was only that one for me, God rest him.”
“I think I’m just going to be alone for the rest of my life.” Janelle’s words were a surprise, though once they came out they felt right. “I don’t think I want to deal with anyone else, you know? And I didn’t even have a great love. Maybe I’m too selfish.”
“You’re not selfish, honey. No selfish person would’ve given up everything she had to come here and take care of me. Don’t you say that about yourself.”
Janelle didn’t point out that coming to take care of Nan had been accompanied by a promise of financial reward. That she’d had nothing to stay in California for but the weather. That coming home was as beneficial for Janelle and her son as it was for Nan.
“I know how they got you to come here,” Nan added before she could reply. “I told Joey, I said, she’s going to get her share of the house. She’s going to have a paycheck, just like if we hired a nurse. But you could’ve said no. You always could’ve.”
“I wanted to come back, Nan.” Janelle’s throat closed. “I’m glad to be here, with you.”
Nan shook her head. “So don’t you go writing yourself off, you hear? You’ll find someone, if you want to. And Janelle, I’m sure you want to.”
Janelle laughed, though it came out sounding a little strangled. “Why does everyone assume a single woman must be in need of a man? Is it so strange to think I might just be happy how I am?”
“At the very least, you should find a...what do they call it? A friend with benefits?”
Shocked, Janelle guffawed. “Nan!”
She laughed. “See? I’m not so behind the times.”
Instinctively, Janelle thought of Gabe, and her face flushed hot. More than hot. Inferno. He wasn’t really a friend, but she remembered all too well the sorts of benefits they’d shared. And that had been as horny but stupid teenagers. She couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to go to bed with him now that she actually knew what he was doing.
Nan sighed and closed her eyes briefly. “Oh, my, I think I’ll take a little nap.”
Janelle didn’t bother asking if Nan wanted to move to her bed. She waited a few minutes for her grandmother’s breathing to slow, then set her knitting aside to pick up her book. She’d put dinner in the Crock-Pot this morning and couldn’t be running the vacuum or anything like that while Nan slept. Nan’s naps were Janelle’s reading time...just like when Bennett was a baby, she realized.
As a single mom living far away from her family, Janelle hadn’t had anyone to rely on when her son was born. She’d been able to manage her schedule by working part-time from home and taking Bennett with her when she had to go into the office. She’d traded listings with other agents and found a decent babysitter for the times she had to do showings. She could vividly remember walking through a newly constructed condo with a newlywed couple and having to go into the bathroom to change her sodden breast pads because the neighbor’s cat had meowed and her milk let down. Bennett’s nap times had been precious, both because they were so fragile, so easily interrupted, but also because they were the only time Janelle had taken for herself.
Today, she’d read no more than a couple pages when her cell phone hummed in her pocket, and she went into the living room to answer it. Janelle had spoken with the school counselor many times on the telephone during her preparation for the move, though she’d never met her in person. “Mrs. Adams?”
“Ms. Decker.” There was a pause. Silence. A sigh. “I’m sorry to bother you, but...you’re going to need to come in and get Bennett.”
“Is he sick? What’s wrong?” Heart pounding, Janelle sank onto the couch, far less comfortable than the one in the family room.
“No. He’s not sick. He’s...” Another sigh, then Mrs. Adams’s voice turned brisk. “Bennett got in a tussle with some other boys, and he needs a change of clothes. Because it’s so close to the end of the day, I think it’s best if you just come get him. We can evaluate the situation and make a decision then.”
Janelle blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“They gave him a swirly.”
“A swirly...” Janelle shook her head. “Some boys at school dunked my son’s head in the toilet and flushed it?”
“Yes. There’s been some trouble with Bennett and these boys before.”
“Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”
Mrs. Adams was quiet for a few seconds too long. “I think you’d better come get him, Ms. Decker.”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Janelle disconnected without waiting for an answer.
Nan still dozed on the family room couch, and though Janelle debated waking her, she settled for scrawling a note and putting it on the dining table where Nan would be sure to see it. She got to the school in fifteen minutes and signed in, heading straight for the counselor’s office. She spotted Bennett, hair wet, face red, shirt soaked, at once.
“Hey, buddy.” She squeezed his shoulder, but he pulled away. “What happened?”
“Ms. Decker.” Mrs. Adams held out her hand. “Let’s talk about this in my office.”
Janelle had spent her share of time in the counselor’s office. And the principal’s. She’d never been called in on her son’s behalf, though. Bennett had always been a good kid.
“Bennett, why don’t you tell your mom about what happened?”
“We were just fooling around,” he said at once. “It got out of hand. I know we shouldn’t have been doing it. I’m sorry.”
Janelle looked at Mrs. Adams, who remained impassive. “Is Bennett in trouble? I mean, he’s the one who got swirlied. Are the other boys being reprimanded?”
“Yes. They’ll have detention. Bennett’s being sent home today, but so far he hasn’t been assigned detention.”
“So far?”
“We’re investigating what exactly went on today in the boys’ lav,” Mrs. Adams said. “When we know more, we’ll take action.”
“Is my son in trouble?” Janelle looked at Bennett, who studied the floor.
Mrs. Adams hesitated. “We have some concerns about his progress in some of the classwork.”
“I got him a tutor. Is there something else?” Janelle twisted her fingers together in her lap. “Bennett? You want to tell me what’s going on?”