by Kim Law
Where had GiGi gotten the later newspapers?
Joanie paid the bills every month, and there had never been a subscription to the weekly paper being sent to the nursing home.
She found an envelope mixed in with the clippings and pulled it out, spilling a few of the articles on the concrete porch. Inside the envelope were letters from Beatrice Grayson. The woman who had told Joanie about GiGi’s attempts at having children had been sending GiGi the articles since she’d been in Knoxville.
At first glance, Joanie wondered if it was just Ms. Grayson butting in, spreading gossip—or maybe returning the favor she felt she owed GiGi from years before—but then Joanie read one of the letters and realized GiGi had requested her to do this.
Pressure built inside Joanie’s chest at the thought of her grandmother wanting to know what was going on in her life, and caring enough to keep the evidence of it. She’d thought for so long that GiGi hadn’t cared, but this box implied differently.
Pain weighted her down. They’d missed out on so much. All because of her.
She dug on down past the articles and found several old pictures of Pepaw, and the tears began. Almost all were pictures of GiGi and Pepaw together from their younger days. Pictures where they were smiling and hugging. Where they were happy.
There were also photos of the three of them. The pride showing in her grandparents’ faces was unmistakable. The few pictures that Joanie uncovered that included her mother mostly showed her sullen, her arms crossed, and Joanie couldn’t help but wonder what made someone so unhappy with their life. She couldn’t imagine being like that. It made her feel sorry for her mother to know she’d been that unhappy her entire life.
How had that made GiGi feel? Surely it had broken her heart as it was doing to Joanie’s now. You couldn’t bear a child and then not ache for her every time you saw her unhappiness, could you?
Maybe Grace could. That woman didn’t seem to have a nice bone in her body. Joanie supposed some people were just made like that.
Her hand landed on an envelope containing a single folded piece of notepaper. She pulled it out, flutters going through her stomach before she unfolded the creases. When she had it open, her hand began shaking as she saw it addressed to her and written in GiGi’s shaky scrawl. It was dated the day after Joanie’s last visit.
Tears dripped unheeded down her face as she read GiGi’s good-bye to her. She spoke briefly about being sorry she hadn’t done better over the years. She’d been scared she would lose Joanie as she already had Pepaw and Grace, but she’d also lived with the guilt of knowing Grace hadn’t come back because of her.
GiGi also apologized for begging Joanie to bring her home. She asked Joanie not to worry about having to say no. According to her grandmother, Joanie had done the right thing. GiGi had been where it was best for her. Where she could best be taken care of.
Just as she’d once put Pepaw where it was best for him.
Joanie’s gaze froze on the words before going back and rereading them. What was she talking about?
She blinked, trying to clear some of the whiskey from her eyesight, then plowed through the rest of the letter.
Your Pepaw had his pride, Joanie. Too much of it. And in the end, it hurt us all.
He never wanted you to be ashamed of him. He wanted no one to be ashamed of him. And he couldn’t stand knowing what was happening to him.
I didn’t agree with his decision, but I loved him enough to do what he asked. And as requested, I never told a soul. Until today.
I’m so sorry his leaving hurt you. I wanted to do better for you, but his leaving hurt me, too. I wasn’t strong enough to be all you deserved, and for that I apologize.
I’ve included a key. There’s a box in the house, Joanie. It was your grandfather’s from when he was a little boy. It explains everything.
Please forgive both of us for not being there for you.
I love you.
Joanie jerked the envelope out of the box where she’d dropped it and shook it upside down. A small, dulled silver key dropped to her lap.
She gaped. GiGi had had the key to the box.
GiGi ended the letter by saying thank you. For Joanie being the granddaughter she was. She’d apparently given GiGi many proud years.
Tears landed on the bottom of the paper, smearing the ink, but Joanie got it out of the way before too much damage was done. She flattened the note out on the chair in front of her, then scooped up Bob when he padded onto the porch. It was as if he’d sensed and understood her pain. Cat followed not far behind, and soon she was sitting, legs stretched out on the swing, a cat snuggled into either side of her, and a small key in the palm of her hand.
She took a moment to close her eyes and simply listen to the night, enjoying the quiet of it. It was beautiful out there.
She dropped her head to the swing and let the pain wash over her. She missed her GiGi. She’d missed her for almost twenty years, but tonight was the worst. She wanted her back, if only for a few minutes. She wanted to make sure the woman knew how much she’d been loved. How much Joanie regretted how things had been.
She cut her eyes over to the tote she’d pulled from the car. It was tossed on the porch, up against one of the rocking chairs Nick had bought. There was something in that bag that would explain why Pepaw had left. Without looking, Joanie understood deep in her heart that the love she’d read in his letters to GiGi was real. They’d had something unique. They’d loved each other completely. Forever.
It had been so different than anything Joanie had ever witnessed between her mother and her selection of men.
Shoving papers out of the way, she suddenly couldn’t get to the box fast enough. She didn’t even take it back to the swing. Just sat on the porch beside the bag and pulled the box out.
The key fit smoothly and turned in her hand to make one small click.
Then she had the lid up and was peering down into a small collection of sentimental valuables.
The first thing she pulled out was a death certificate. She studied it, learning that her grandfather had died of pneumonia.
Beneath that was Pepaw’s Purple Heart. He’d gotten it trying to save GiGi’s brother. Joanie pressed it to her chest before laying it and the death certificate carefully on the concrete beside her.
Next was a folded birth certificate for Anthony William Bigbee. Their son.
If felt as if the wall of her chest was going to cave completely in on her heart as she read the details of her uncle’s fleeting existence. She couldn’t imagine all the hurt her grandparents had gone through together.
Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer that if she was ever confronted with such obstacles in her life, she’d have the strength GiGi and Pepaw must have carried to overcome such tragedy. No doubt they’d leaned heavily on each other for support.
More tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn’t wipe them away. She reached for the small black-and-white photograph lying inside the box.
It was of her grandparents when they were very young. She’d seen old pictures of them before, and GiGi couldn’t have been much more than eighteen in this one. They were standing in front of a wooden beam.
She scanned the details in the murky background, and if she wasn’t mistaken, made out a bale of hay. Possibly another with a blanket thrown over it. And a small handful of flowers lying on the ground.
She then took in their clothes. It looked like they’d been wearing their Sunday best. But were they in a barn?
Joanie flipped the photograph over, trying to figure out what it meant, and a small piece of yellowed paper floated to the ground before her. It had been taped to the back of the photo, though the adhesive had long disappeared.
She picked it up, barely able to make out the thin scrawl under the piece of tape on top.
November 1, 1953
Which meant GiGi had been only seventeen.
And then she realized what this was. November first was the day her grandparents had gotten
married. She squinted to make out the other words on the paper.
The old barn on the Bigbee farm. Our honeymoon.
We shared it with a pair of owls.
Joanie turned the picture back over and looked at her grandparents.
They hadn’t had a lot of money, but they’d made a romantic spot for their honeymoon. And then they’d named the home they’d made in its honor. The Barn.
Wow.
She wished she’d known all this about her grandparents as she’d been growing up. Then again, she wished her grandfather hadn’t left.
One more item remained in the box. It was a single piece of paper folded over on itself. When she opened it, she discovered a document GiGi had signed when she’d checked Pepaw into a veteran’s hospital facility in 1988. That was the year he’d left. He’d been diagnosed with early-onset dementia.
GiGi’s words came back to her. He didn’t leave me. He was a good man. And then the note Joanie had read tonight. He wanted no one to be ashamed of him.
Pepaw had been an upstanding citizen and a good husband. He’d been honored by the town for his service. But he had been a hard man. And he’d apparently not wanted to be remembered as someone who went out by losing his mind.
So he’d made GiGi put him in a home?
It was hard to understand that kind of pride, but she supposed in his weakened state, he might not have realized what it would do to her and GiGi.
She couldn’t imagine the town thinking that he’d walked out on his family was any better than knowing he’d lost control of his faculties, though. But she got that men were different. And especially men of that generation.
Joanie stood and went back to the swing, taking the document with her, her heart empty. She’d missed the last seven years of his life because he’d been too proud to let the world see the disease that had taken hold of his body. But also, if she were to guess, because he hadn’t wanted Joanie to see him like that.
She grabbed the letter from GiGi and scanned it.
He never wanted you to be ashamed of him.
Yep. He hadn’t wanted his only granddaughter to see him go crazy. Life was too damned complicated.
She stretched out on the swing, her feet dangling off the end, and put both pieces of paper on her stomach. Bob returned and jumped up to sit in the middle of the papers. Joanie merely chuckled. She loved her cat.
As they both lay there, she reached down and grabbed a handful of the newspaper clippings she’d pulled from GiGi’s last box, going through them again. The articles spanned her entire life. GiGi had not only cared enough to save them—and get the later ones secretly sent to her—but she’d taken the earlier ones with her when she’d first moved to Elm Hill. Joanie could have never guessed she would have done that.
When she reached back for more, her fingers landed on something thicker. She pulled it out, squinting at the words on the front of the tri-folded document. It was several pages thick and looked to be a…
She bolted upright, causing Bob to flee from the porch. Oh my goodness. It was a will! Dated earlier this year.
Oh, crap. GiGi had a will.
Joanie flipped through the pages, noting it was written up by a lawyer out of Knoxville whom she didn’t recognize, and witnessed by two of the nurses at the nursing home. It looked legit. Now it was just a matter of what it said.
Nerves had her fingers shaking as she flipped through the pages, knowing GiGi held very few possessions. Her house was pretty much it.
When she landed on the correct page, her heart stopped.
TO MY DAUGHTER, GRACE BIGBEE: THE BED THAT I BOUGHT HER FOR HER SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY. IT’S THE CEDAR HEAD AND FOOTBOARD STORED IN THE GARAGE.
Joanie laughed out loud. It was the bed Nick had dragged up to the third-floor bedroom. That’s all that was on the list for Grace.
TO MY GRANDDAUGHTER, JOANIE BIGBEE: I LEAVE THE BARN AND THE SURROUNDING THREE ACRES, INCLUDING EVERY POSSESSION (OTHER THAN THE ABOVE-NOTED BED) FOUND INSIDE THE HOME AND ON THE PROPERTY.
She dropped the papers. She was free. No more mother, no more worrying how long it would all get dragged out. She could put a stop to it right now.
Only, one thing bothered her. She turned to look at the glossy red shutters Nick had attached to the house, and took in everything she could see from her spot on the swing. She wanted the house.
She had to find a way to keep the house.
GiGi had wanted her to have it. And she loved it. She adored it, actually. Only, she still thought she might want to move to Nashville with Nick.
Also, she owed too much money.
Her shoulders sank.
The only way she could make the payments to the bank was to not have any other rental. She could move in here. But she still owed Nick at least that same amount.
Or she could move in with Nick and just make payments on this place. But then, it would sit here empty, and it needed a family to love it.
She sighed.
She had no idea what she wanted to do. Other than wave this piece of paper in her mother’s face and tell her to take a hike. That, she was definitely going to do. But not tonight.
Tonight she was exhausted. She’d learned too much over the past hours, and had shed too many tears. Her heart was broken.
So tonight, she was going nowhere. She planned to sleep in her mother’s bed up in the third-floor hideaway, pretend Nick was there with her, and imagine a life where she was able to keep all the people she loved.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Joanie stopped by the pharmacy to pick up aspirin for the hangover she was sporting—she’d ended up finishing the whiskey before she’d fallen asleep the night before—and to get the last of her pictures printed for her scrapbook. Next she was heading over to the diner. It would be crowded with the church crowd, but that was all right. She had nowhere in particular to be, and it was a nice day. She just wanted to enjoy it.
The only real thing she needed to accomplish today was to find her mother, and give her the will. She was almost giddy with the anticipation of it.
As she walked down the aisles of the store, she passed several people, who all greeted her.
“Enjoyed seeing you sit out on the swing last night, Joanie,” said Sam Jenkins. He was in his seventies, and a fixture around town. His dog sat at his heels. “Used to see you and Georgia out there most nights as I headed home from work. It looked right, seeing you out there like that.”
Joanie smiled at him. “Thanks, Sam. It was a nice way to end the evening.”
“Saw your mother hanging around town yesterday, too,” he added. “That didn’t look right.”
Joanie couldn’t help it. She laughed at his droll tone. She petted his dog on the head and gave him a good scratching when his tail slapped against the floor. “She cause any trouble you know about?” she asked.
“Nah.” Sam’s dentures were loose and clacked as he spoke. “Just mouthing about how she’s been getting the weekly paper for years and knows everything going on around here. I’ll tell ya, for someone so bound and determined that we ain’t nothing, she sure is awfully worried about us.”
That had to be how she’d known GiGi had died.
“She say where she’s been all this time?”
Bushy eyebrows popped high on his forehead. “Figured you might’a got that one out of her.”
Joanie shook her head. “I didn’t care so much to ask. Just curious.”
“I’ll sic Beatrice on it if you want to know. I’m sure she could find out.”
Lee Ann’s mother would never forgive her if Joanie went to Ms. Grayson before Reba for gossip. “No need, Sam.” She patted his hand. “It’s not a big deal. Grace will be gone soon, anyway.”
“Oh yeah?” This came from Bert at the photo counter. “We got a bet going as to when, if you want in.”
Joanie laughed. That was perfect. “Yes, Bert. In fact, I do want in. I’m feeling lucky with this one. I think I just might win.”
She patted her purse
where the will was tucked inside, knowing she had knowledge the others didn’t, but there were no official rules saying she couldn’t bet if she had insider information.
She put down her ten dollars, handed over her memory card, and paid for her aspirin and bottle of water. She then headed for the door, tossing Sam and Bert a wave. “See you later, boys. It’s a good day to be in Sugar Springs, isn’t it?”
“Hmph,” she heard one of them mutter behind her.
Sam asked Bert, “Who has today?”
I have today, Joanie thought. She was running her mother back out of town just as soon as she could find her.
She stepped through the door and turned loose of it as Bert answered, “Probably not today. He didn’t come back from Atlanta yet.”
The door swung closed and she turned around to stare through it. Were they talking about Nick? What would he have to do with her mother leaving town? When she caught Bert’s eye, both he and Sam ducked their heads, ignoring her.
Well, son of a gun. They were talking about the bet on her. They still thought she was going to fall victim to the curse?
Great. Way to squash a good mood.
She dumped three aspirin into her hand and headed across the street to get lunch, scowling as she went. As she stepped inside the diner, she couldn’t miss her mother sitting in the center of the restaurant, yakking it up to whoever would listen. This was perfect.
Screw lunch, she had something else to do.
As she neared, she heard her mother putting down the fact that the town only had one stoplight, as well as the summer festival that had started to be advertised that week. It was more than a couple months away, but the town council liked to draw tourists back whenever they could, so they got the information out early.
Joanie couldn’t believe someone would dis the Firefly Festival. No one else had synchronized fireflies like their area. Seeing the flashing light patterns match up over an entire hillside was an attraction that made the region unique.
What a heartless woman.
Marching up to her mother’s table, she was taken aback by the flat look turned her way. How could someone dislike her own daughter so much? Joanie shook her head slightly. It made no sense, but the odder thing was, she didn’t care. She felt free of her in a way she never had before, and she knew that once she showed her the will, she would likely never see her again.