He grinned. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
Sam nodded and waved. She traveled the rest of the road to a rambling ranch house surrounded by an acre of grass. She pulled into the driveway. The large window in the livingroom allowed her to see through to the kitchen.
When Frances Marino wasn’t in the garden, or hanging clothes on the line to dry, which she still did despite modern appliances, or walking the dogs, she was wearing an apron and standing in front of the stove.
Sam opened the front door and was instantly enveloped by the smell of butter and fresh baked bread. Happiness became her as she entered the house and called her grandmother’s name. She passed quickly through the expansive livingroom to the kitchen, where Frances Marino stood stirring spaghetti sauce in a large black pot.
Within seconds they were wrapped in each other’s arms. Sam caught scent of her grandmother’s Oil of Olay, a fragrance that brought her back to childhood days long since passed. In those fleeting moments, Sam was completely consumed by the love she had for her grandmother.
“Smells delicious, Nona,” Sam said.
“It’s your favorite,” Nona said and picked up the wooden spoon and began to stir again. “And Howard’s, too.”
After dinner Howard built a roaring fire for Sam and Nona and the big room glowed with warmth. He left them alone to talk.
“I couldn’t help your mother, Sam,” Nona said. “She followed in the footsteps of your father and his father before that. All alcoholics.”
Sam nodded. “I know. You tried.” She looked at her grandmother’s face. It softened in the glow of the firelight. Nona had been a homely child, but the years had been kind to her as she aged. She had aged with grace. Few lines showed on her round face.
Nona went on. “Why she could stop drinking when she was pregnant with you and Robin and then start again the moment you both were born still escapes me.”
“When will it ever stop?” Sam directed her comment to her hands, too embarrassed to look at her grandmother.
“It can stop with you, Sam. Robin managed to do it. Why can’t you?”
“I was never as strong as Robin.”
“Only because you didn’t want to be, Samantha.”
Sam nodded as a smile spread slowly over her face.
“You have to be ready and willing to change before you can,” Nona said.
“I am now, Nona.”
Silence fell between them.
“Everyone’s gone,” Sam said and rose and walked to the livingroom window.
Away from the city lights, stars took command of the sky. She looked out the window as she spoke.
“I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t matter what you plan with someone for the future. There’s no guarantee they’ll stay. No matter how long they’ve been in your life. Not even sixteen years. No matter what you’ve been through together. No matter how close you think you are.”
She was quiet a moment, watching the heavens. The Milky Way was a thin ribbon of light illuminating the darkness.
“The only guarantee is that there is no guarantee.”
“It’s called life, Samantha. It’s all about coming and going.”
Sam turned to face her grandmother. “Even you won’t be here forever.”
“But I am here now.”
She returned to the warmth of the fire.
“What’s the same for everyone is that we all experience disappointment and loss,” Nona said. “What makes us different is how we chose to handle those experiences.”
The fire crackled and popped.
“After seventy-seven years on the Lord’s good earth I can tell you this much, this moment is all there is.”
Nona extended an open hand toward the fire. She watched a moment, the flames moving in quiet rhythm.
“Howard builds the best fires,” she said, her voice low and soft. “He knows how to get them going quickly and hot. Some nights we’ll sit in here after dinner and the room will be warm and filled like it is now, with the rich smell of coffee and wood. We might sit for an hour and not say anything. We just enjoy the moment. Despite all that’s been and what we hope will be, Sam, we don’t know about tomorrow, so we just enjoy the moment.”
“I want to be able to do that, Nona.”
“You can, but it’s up to you, dear.”
Sam knew Nona would help her. She was more than willing, but it wouldn’t come without Sam asking. Her grandmother never pried or meddled in her family’s affairs, unless she was invited.
“Nona,” Sam began quietly, “I want to bring April home where she belongs. She’s all I have left.”
“Have you told her about her father?”
“I will when she comes home, but I’m sure her grandmother already has.”
Nona nodded. “That’s best. Probably not a good thing to tell a child something like that over the phone.”
“But before I can bring her home,” Sam went on, “there are some things I need to do for myself. But I can’t do it alone.”
Sam took a deep breath. “Can April, Morrison, and I come and stay with you and Howard until I get some help and get back on my feet again?”
It only took Frances Marino a second to answer her granddaughter’s question.
Reporter’s Notebook – The Last Chapter
I was up before dawn.
I’m not sure what woke me. Perhaps it was my dream. I’ve lost track of the time I’ve been sitting in my big chair here in the livingroom with my little companion on my lap. The coffee is good and warms me going down. I’ve been watching the landscape change shape and color in the reflecting light of the coming day.
The sky’s turning blue and deep. The moon is on the verge of setting behind mountains covered deep in fresh winter snow. It hovers like a giant saucer over the Front Range. Its distinct face looks back over the city made a dull, dusty pink by the rising sun.
There’s something about light that fascinates me. Perhaps it’s the certain way it slants in the early morning and late afternoon. It pulls at me from every quiet direction within. It has always been that way for me. Even as a little girl.
When I left work today, the late afternoon light was long and shadows fell behind me. What was left of daylight was caught in the tops of the naked trees. I drove thinking of the dream that woke me early this morning.
Robin came to me in the usual kind of dream. One set in a landscape that I only half recognized and filled with events that only partially, if at all, made sense.
We were walking up a hill not far from where I live now. In the beginning we walked together, side by side. But the climb became harder and steep. It was an effort for me to keep walking. My steps slowed as if my feet were made of lead. But Robin continued as if the wind carried her easily up the hill.
The distance between us widened. Our shadows grew long. When we were no longer at arm’s length, I tried to reach for Robin, but she was too far away. She took one, long final look over her shoulder. I could no longer move and watched helplessly as she disappeared in the gathering mist at the top of the hill.
I waited for her to return, but she never came back. It was as if she were telling me it was time now, time to move on. So I did. I took one last long look where Robin once was. Then I turned and headed in a new direction. Free to walk.
When I woke this morning, I felt myself reinsert the mental plug that I had disconnected on Christmas morning when Jonathan came with the news about Robin.
I am ready to grieve now, because I want to heal. It’s what Robin would have done and would have expected of me.
When I told Judie where I was planning to go after work tonight, she wanted to accompany me for support. But I told her no. It’s something I have to do on my own. Alone. She understood. She’s that kind of friend. When I gathered enough strength to finally tell Wilson where I was going tonight, he only nodded. Then he smiled and said the time had come. He seems to know about and understand my problem on a level that I cannot comprehend.
&n
bsp; I remembered the dream as I headed to the building where I had gone once a year with Robin. Before going inside I put Robin’s old sweater on and wrapped my arms around myself. I found comfort in that, as if it were Robin’s arms around me.
The chairs were nearly filled when I entered the room on the second floor. I wondered how Robin felt the first time she came so many years ago. I realized when I entered this room tonight that I had never asked my sister about her first day here. As much as we shared, and knew about each other, she had never mentioned it and I never asked.
The room was quiet when the serenity prayer began. I held the hands of those on each side of me. I had never said the prayer when I came with Robin.
I did tonight. “Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can and the wisdom to know the difference.”
I kept my attention focused on a pattern in my skirt until I heard the group leader, a woman, say, “is there anyone new here tonight who would like to give their first name?”
I looked at her and raised my hand.
The woman nodded at me and smiled.
My heart began to gallop so I took a deep breath to relax. I looked around the room. The others were quiet and waited for me to speak. I got to my feet. I was nervous and tried to swallow away my fear.
Somehow now I knew that there was nothing more to fear.
I cleared my throat and spoke clearly.
“My name is Samantha, and I am an alcoholic.”
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyrighted © 2012 by Betta Ferrendelli
Ebook Cover Design by Laura Stumbaugh
Visit Betta’s author central page on Amazon: amazon.com/author/bettaferrendelli. Follow her on Twitter: @BettaWriter.
Visit her Web site: www.BettaFerrendelliBooks.com
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Table of Contents
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine – Reporter’s Notebook
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen – Reporter’s Notebook
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five – Reporter’s Notebook
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Thirty-eight
Thirty-nine
Forty
Forty-one
Forty-two
Forty-three
Forty-four
Forty-five
Forty-six
Forty-seven
Forty-eight
Reporter’s Notebook – The Last Chapter
Copyright
The Friday Edition (A Samantha Church Mystery) Page 30