by Leigh Bale
He pushed her away and searing pain burned through his eyes. “If that’s true, then why are you trying to get rid of me?”
Her mouth dropped open in shock. “What do you mean?”
He gestured angrily toward the phone. “The Sunnyside Assisted Living Center just called. They asked me to tell you they need a firm commitment by the end of today. Otherwise they’ll have to release the room you’ve reserved to someone else.”
Oh, no. A heavy weight settled on Josie’s chest. This wasn’t about soup at all. Not really. She didn’t want this to happen today. Not like this. “Gramps, I didn’t—”
He slashed a hand through the air, cutting her off. She flinched.
“I told them you only have one grandpa.” Gramps’s deep voice escalated. “And I said I sure wasn’t gonna move into no cramped room in an assisted-living center. I thanked them for their time, but told them you wouldn’t be needing the room, after all. Not unless you’ve got another grandpa I don’t know about.”
He arched his bushy brows, his expression stern, his steely eyes filled with hurt and betrayal. Without waiting for her reply, he slammed a can of soup down on the countertop, turned and stomped into the living room.
Josie couldn’t move, as though her feet were nailed to the floor. She couldn’t breathe. A hollow feeling settled in the pit of her stomach and she wanted to burst into tears.
She felt Clint’s gaze like a leaden weight, and embarrassment heated her cheeks. She hated that he’d witnessed this scene. She looked up and blinked. Instead of censure and disapproval, she saw compassion written across his face.
“I know, I know. You don’t have to say it,” she said.
“Say what?”
“That I should have told him sooner. That I shouldn’t have waited so long. But I’ve only been home a couple of days. I haven’t found the right time. I thought I was doing something good. Now it’s too late.”
She waited for Clint to scold her. To tell her she was inconsiderate and cruel. Instead, he nodded toward the living room, speaking in a soothing voice.
“Go in and speak with him now. It’s not too late to explain everything. He knows you love him. Just tell him about your concerns and that you’re worried about him. It’ll all turn out fine.”
Ha! She wished she could believe him. But his words of encouragement didn’t inspire much confidence in her at this moment. Still, she appreciated his nonjudgmental attitude more than she could ever say.
“Gracie!” Clint called out. “It’s time to go home, sweetheart.”
“Ah, but I want to stay,” she protested, clearly oblivious to what had occurred.
“Sorry, but we’re leaving right now. Come on,” he insisted.
Gracie groaned.
A long pause followed and the girl finally appeared in her stocking feet, dragging her red vinyl coat behind her. “But when can I come back and play with Josie and Grandpa Frank?”
“Maybe later,” Clint said.
Josie watched in leaden silence while he helped his daughter tug on her boots and zip up her coat. He opened the door and ushered Gracie outside, but turned at the last moment to give Josie one last smile of support.
“Just tell him the truth. And remember that he loves you, too,” Clint said.
He closed the door and she stood alone with her inner turmoil.
The truth. She didn’t know what it was anymore. All her life, she’d worked so hard to get ahead. Memories of the loneliness and poverty she’d endured with Mom still haunted her. Now Josie had a good job that provided for all her needs, but she lived alone. Over the years, she’d grown more disenchanted with her life. Even her houseplants didn’t seem to thrive. She’d never dare have a dog, cat or hamster. Or another boyfriend, for that matter. Ignoring her faults helped insulate her from the pain of failure. But she had to face it. She was antisocial and unlovable, just as Edward had said. What did her success matter if she had no one to share it with?
She inhaled deeply, trying to settle her nerves. Trying to formulate what she should say to Gramps. She had to speak to him now. No more delays. It wouldn’t get easier by waiting.
Gathering her courage, she stepped into the living room. He sat in his worn recliner, staring vacantly out the window, his hands resting on his knees. She wondered how he’d gotten so old. All her life, he’d been the mainstay of her family. He and Grandma had been the only people in her life who had loved her unconditionally. So energetic and strong. So self-assured. He’d led an active, vital life. Always confident and in control. No matter what the problem, he had all the answers. But now he didn’t. And neither did she.
Sitting on the sofa across from him, she clicked off the kid show on TV, leaving the room in a deafening silence. She realized even an elderly person needed reassurance sometimes. To know their life meant something to others. To feel loved and appreciated for the sacrifices they’d made and the good life they’d lived.
“Gramps, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out this way. I wanted to sit down and talk with you about it first.”
His gray eyes clashed, then locked with hers, and she inwardly cringed at the accusation and doubt she saw there.
“I never thought my own granddaughter would want to lock me away in an old folks’ home.” His voice was harsh with anger.
She flinched, thinking how heartless it sounded when he put it that way. “I would never lock you anywhere, Gramps. I love you.”
He snorted. “Is that why you came here? To pack me off to that place?”
“No! I came to spend the holidays with you. To be near you. I’d love for you to live in Las Vegas with me, but I won’t make you do something you don’t want to do.”
“Why would you ever think of putting me in an old folks’ home?”
“It’s not an old folks’ home. It’s an assisted-living center.”
He shrugged. “It’s the same thing to me.”
She couldn’t argue with that. She told herself she must be patient with him. He’d received a series of harsh blows lately. Grandma’s death months earlier, having to learn to read, and now this. Josie wanted to encourage him. To make him understand how much she cared. That no matter what, she’d never desert him. Not ever.
“You’d maintain your independence there and have an apartment all to yourself,” she said. “You could come and go as you like. But you wouldn’t need to worry about yard work anymore, or shoveling the snow, raking leaves or mowing the lawn.”
His mouth dropped open in shock. “But I love working in my yard, Josie. It’s what keeps me young and strong. And who’d tend Ma’s rosebushes if I left here?”
Rosebushes? Josie hadn’t thought about that. And that’s when she realized a house wasn’t just a place where you lived to keep out the cold. It was a home you built with your loved ones day after day. Planting flowers. Repairing leaky faucets. Painting walls and hanging curtains. The place where you ate your meals and gathered together in the evening with your family, to share your life. Where you built all your hopes and dreams and then brought them to fruition.
She couldn’t blame Gramps for wanting to stay. But that didn’t change the fact that he was getting older and needed more care.
“There’re lots of people your age living in this center, Gramps, so you’d have lots of companionship. You could cook or take your meals in the dining hall with the other patrons. They have fun activities for you, too. You’d be busy all the time, but if you got tired, you could rest. The weather is so much warmer there, and I’d be able to visit you every week. We’d be able to spend more time together.”
And she wouldn’t be worried he might collapse and not be found for hours or days, until it was too late to rush him to the hospital for help.
He lifted a gnarled hand. “I have lots of companionship right here in Camlin. All my fr
iends at church, and down at the civic center. They care about me, Josie. They’re good to me and I love them. I don’t want to leave.”
She nodded in understanding. “Then you don’t have to go. I just thought it would be good for both of us. My intentions were never to lock you up and abandon you there. Not ever. And if you don’t want to go, you won’t. So that’s the end of it. Now that I know how you feel about it, you’ll stay right here.”
The harsh lines around his mouth and eyes softened. “Good. I’m glad we got that settled.”
She was, too, although it wasn’t the outcome she’d hoped for.
She reached out and folded her hands over his. “I love you, Gramps. I just want what’s best for you. I want to take care of you....”
He jerked his hands away. “I don’t need you to take care of me. The good Lord does that for me. And I’m strong yet.”
“I...I didn’t mean it that way, Gramps.”
His expression softened. “I know, muffin. I’m sorry to be so touchy about this. But I’m not afraid. God has never let me down. Not once. I’ll stay right here until the day I die.”
And she dreaded that day. But she envied Gramps and Clint their faith. How Josie wished she could trust God the way they did. But that would mean giving the Lord another chance, and she didn’t know if she was ready for that step. Not yet, anyway.
“I’ve been living in this house for seventy-five years. I was only three when my folks moved here. What were you planning to do with my home?” Gramps asked.
Josie took a deep breath before letting it go. “I thought of several options. We could close up the house, rent it out, or we could sell it.”
“Sell it? Why, this house has been in my family for years.” Horror ignited in his eyes and he glared at her as if she’d just asked him to shoot off his own foot.
She held up her hands. “So we won’t sell it. We could keep it and visit anytime you like. I’d drive you home.”
He snorted. “You rarely have time to visit me now. What makes you think you’d have time to drive me home to visit an empty old house?”
Oh, that hurt. Because he was right. And they both knew it. Josie couldn’t deny it. Living so far away made visiting here difficult. Things always kept getting in the way. But she realized work couldn’t fill up all the empty places inside her heart. Not anymore. Only love could do that.
“I’m sorry, Gramps. I just want to do what’s best for you. I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t need to worry about me, Josie. I can accept God’s will. And you should accept Him, too. In the meantime, I’ll live right here to the best of my abilities.”
That was just it. She couldn’t accept it. Because when Gramps died, she’d have no one left. She’d be by herself.
Truly and wretchedly alone.
Chapter Eight
That night, Josie couldn’t sleep. Oh, she wanted to. In fact, she needed rest. Badly. Too many long hours at work had taken their toll. On top of it, she was worried about Gramps. She also felt discontented with her life, yet wasn’t sure what to do about it. Not a good recipe for an insomniac like her.
Reaching over, she flipped on the lamp sitting on the table next to the bed. She blinked as her eyes accustomed to the dim light, then sat up and glanced at the clock. Two thirty-three in the morning and she was wide-awake.
The chilly air forced her to drag the heavy quilt up to her shoulders. Dressed in a warm nightgown, she wiggled her toes, glad she’d decided to wear socks to bed. She knew Gramps’s penchant for turning down the heat at night. Having worked his entire life as a custodian for the local elementary school, he’d earned a modest living for his family. Although they’d always pinched pennies, he and Grandma Vi had been happy, sharing a love few people ever understood. Even so, Josie couldn’t help wondering how he kept his indoor pipes from freezing.
What should she do? In Vegas when she couldn’t sleep, she’d normally get up and read, clean her small apartment, exercise, or drive in to work. Something constructive to distract her from being alone. But she’d wake Gramps if she started jogging around the house.
In retrospect, she marveled that Gramps had gotten along all his life without being able to read. How had he paid his bills or read the labels on his medications? How did he follow traffic signs or know which legal papers to sign?
Grandma Vi. She must have known the truth and helped him. But now she was gone, and Josie realized with churning clarity just how much Gramps had relied on his wife. It made Josie feel empty to think she might never have that intimate relationship with a man in her life.
Reaching over to the bedside table, she picked up a black Bible sitting there. She brushed her fingertips across the dusty, cracked cover and fanned the yellowed pages. Opening it, she read her grandmother’s name etched in the top right corner: Viola Clements Rushton, 1951.
Grandma had always loved God and lived her life in service to Him and her family. Though Josie didn’t have much use for the Lord, she respected her grandmother more than anyone else on earth, except Gramps.
As she flipped through the pages, the book naturally opened at a particularly tattered page. The twenty-second chapter of Psalms. She read the first verse, which was underlined in red ink.
“‘My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me? Why art Thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?’”
Josie closed her eyes, squeezing tears from between her lashes. A strangled groan of anguish came from her throat. How often had she felt this way? As though the Lord had completely forgotten her. As if she didn’t matter, or God didn’t love or care about her one iota.
Opening her eyes, she almost shut the book. Her heart felt so heavy with sorrow that she didn’t want to read on. But she couldn’t put the Bible down, compelled to read on.
Her gaze skimmed the words one by one and paused on the eleventh verse.
“‘Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help.’”
Yes. That was exactly how she felt right now. Fretting over Gramps. Worrying about his well-being. Feeling adrift personally and professionally. Aching with loneliness. And yet she had no one to blame but herself. She wanted to change. To make her life different somehow. To have friends and a family of her own. A man who truly loved her without reservations. But how should she start?
“‘Show me the way, Lord. Show me what I must do,’” she murmured in a heartfelt prayer.
She turned the page and read more. “‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul....’”
Her voice broke, shredded by emotion. And then she wondered, had Gramps felt this way, too? When he was a young man eking out a living for his family and hiding his frustration over his illiteracy? Perhaps even more recently, since Grandma Vi had died? Surely he’d felt forsaken at times in his life.
Josie didn’t know. She’d never asked him about it. He always seemed so happy and content. So strong and supportive. But surely he had his down times, too. Everyone did. Even Clint Hamilton had undoubtedly needed God’s comfort when he’d lost his wife and struggled to raise his daughter alone. And Josie couldn’t help pondering if maybe, just maybe, Gramps and Clint were skilled at putting on a good front.
Hmm. Maybe other people felt lost and alone like she did. Though she’d always gone to church with her grandparents, she’d never considered herself a particularly religious person. She’d prayed during several critical times in her life, but God never seemed to answer her. So she’d quit trying. Why bother? Her words never reached heaven. If they did, the Lord had chosen to ignore her.
Tonight, as she thought about Gramps and Clint, the Bible verse brought her some comfort. As though her life was in God’s control, even if she couldn’t see it.
Josie
set the book aside, thinking she was becoming overly sentimental now that she was home again. Flipping the heavy quilt back, she slid her feet into her fuzzy slippers and trudged downstairs. Maybe some warm milk would help her sleep.
The dark stairs creaked as she made her way down to the living room. The sound of scratchy static on the TV set drew her attention and she switched it off. Turning, she was surprised to see Gramps still reclining in his easy chair, fully dressed in his blue overalls, and fast asleep. A loud snort filled the room as he shifted position.
His spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose, and his face looked serene. Drawing near, she saw that he held a wide photo album in his lap. The faint light from a reading lamp sprayed across the book. He’d obviously been looking at the pictures when he’d fallen asleep.
The album lay open on a page that showed a beautiful photo of Grandma Vi at age sixteen, when she and Gramps had first met. Gramps’s fingertips rested against the picture, just at the hollow of Grandma’s throat, as though he’d been caressing her face.
Adoring her.
Glancing at her grandfather, Josie saw the toll the years of living had etched on his face. The sparse, graying hair, the grizzled cheeks and deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He’d once been so muscular and young. So handsome. Grandma had always called him her “confident captain.” But without Grandma here to read for him, he wasn’t as confident anymore. And no matter what he thought, Josie had noticed he moved slower and seemed more fragile.
Vulnerable.
She couldn’t bear to hurt him. She’d give anything if she could protect him.
Moving carefully, she slid the photo album away before covering him with a warm afghan. Slipping his spectacles off his face, she set them beside him on the table. Then she retrieved her glass of milk and took it and the photo album upstairs with her.
The mattress squeaked as she sat down on her bed and sipped her milk while she perused photos of her family members. Pictures she was familiar with, having viewed them with her grandparents on numerous occasions.