by Carol Voss
He turned her words over in his mind, trying to make sense of them. “Well…money is a consideration. And I can afford a nursing home or assisted-living facility for her.”
“With no gardens? She’d hate it.”
“Maybe at first, but she’d get used to it.”
Maggie shook her head. “You still haven’t figured out how important home and roots are to your nonna?”
“That’s not the issue—”
“Yes, it is. Her home and gardens are more than a house and a piece of land to her, Tony. This is the place that nourishes her soul.”
A muscle in his jaw jumped. “Things change, Maggie. Even in Noah’s Crossing. You have to see that Nonna’s situation has changed.”
“It doesn’t have to change. Her whole life is here. It’s all she has left of your grandfather Salvatore. She’s lived here for sixty years. She wants to live out her days here.”
“Maybe she does, but she has to be practical. And so do you.”
“This from a man who lives in the Brazilian rain forest?” She threw her hands in the air, a gesture he remembered well. “I have always been practical.”
“Compared to what?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Sounds to me like you’re still the idealist you were when we were kids. You had more bright ideas to set the world right than I could keep up with. We raised money to save whales, wild mustangs, feral cats—”
“Didn’t I carry out my ideas?”
He shrugged. “Well, sure…but…idealist or not, you must see this house isn’t a safe place for Nonna. Maybe she’ll even need professional care.”
“If she does, we’ll find in-home care.” Maggie bit her lip. “She needs to come home, Tony. If she has that to hang on to, she’ll fight to get well.”
He scraped his fingers through his hair. “Things never stay the same, Maggie. No matter how hard you try to hang on to them.”
She narrowed her eyes, looking ready to draw blood. “And running away never solves a thing, Tony.”
“Touché,” he mumbled. Apparently, little Magnolia Blossom had learned how to wound. He didn’t like thinking he’d probably taught her that.
Glancing at her watch, she headed for the driveway. “If you’re leaving in a week, we don’t have a minute to lose.”
He strode to the Harley. “I’ll have us there in no time.”
She held up her keys. “I’m not in the mood to take my life in my hands.”
“You’d be perfectly safe. Must be all of two miles.” He held his helmet out to her. “Wear this.”
She glared at the helmet and shook her head.
He looked down his nose. “Please don’t tell me you’ve turned into a sissy since I left.”
She opened her mouth as if to deny his accusation, then shut it. Glowering at him, she jerked the helmet from his hand. “I am not a sissy.”
Five minutes later, they roared for town on the Harley, Maggie clinging to Tony’s back like a terrified monkey. Maybe teasing her about turning into a sissy hadn’t been the nicest thing to do, but it was uncanny how quickly old habits were asserting themselves. Hadn’t he always used teasing to avoid confrontation with her?
His immediate problem, though, was that she was a strong woman with a grip to match, and if he didn’t get oxygen soon, he was going to black out. “You have to let me breathe,” he yelled over the roar of the bike.
“Sorry.”
He didn’t so much hear the word as feel it. She loosened her grip a bit, but he could still feel her arms hugging his middle, a welcome distraction to worrying about facing Nonna. “Lean with me in the turns and keep your feet on the pegs. You’ll be fine.”
“I like more steel between me and the pavement,” she yelled.
“The Hog gets a whole lot better gas mileage than that bus of yours.”
“What about comfort?”
“You’re uncomfortable?” He could feel her groan. He chuckled.
The countryside opened up to pastures and patches of tall hickories and scraggy bur oaks intermingled with birches and pines. Northern Wisconsin still had an unspoiled beauty about it.
Thundering around a bend, he scowled at the upscale new houses sprawling over Doc Tilbert’s land. Asphalt roads and culs-de-sac cut into the woods he and Maggie had roamed with his golden retriever. So much for unspoiled.
Finally, he downshifted as they rode into town.
A young couple with ice-cream cones strolled hand in hand along the sidewalk. An older man strove to keep up with his giant schnauzer. Several teenage boys rode bikes along the street, probably looking for something to do. He wished them luck with that.
With the scent of fried onions wafting past his nose, Tony caught a glimpse of the squad car parked in front of Jessie’s Main Street Diner and downshifted again. If Bunker was still sheriff, no point in alerting him that Tony was back, even if Nonna had written that Danny Judd had ultimately been arrested for that robbery.
Familiar houses crowded the sidewalk. He’d once known who lived in every one of those houses. Now, most sported fresh paint, and some displayed shop signs. The Chocolate Nugget, The Knit and Pearl, Grampa’s Workshop.
It would take a lot more than paint and a few quaint signs to change this town. No doubt, the tourist-friendly facade still hid too many people who judged first and asked questions later. People just like Sheriff Bunker.
Loosening her stranglehold round his waist, Maggie shifted her weight.
What? She was waving to somebody? He glanced around, noting a middle-aged couple waving back. He sure didn’t need an old-home parade down Main Street. He hunkered down and tried to ignore people who, no doubt, were trying to figure out who he was. But maybe nobody knew who Maggie was either in that helmet.
“Hi, Maggie,” somebody yelled.
There went that hope. He notched up the speed a little and focused straight ahead. Reaching the other end of town, he spotted a sign announcing the Pleasant View Rehabilitation Center and smoothly turned into the parking lot. He pulled to a stop, braced the bike with his feet and let the engine idle for no good reason. Unless his subconscious was looking for a quick getaway. Not a bad idea, but having come all this way, its timing was off. He killed the motor.
“We made it.” Maggie sat there as if digesting that fact.
He pushed his sunglasses up on his head. “See? Perfectly safe.”
She crawled off the bike and handed him his helmet.
He hung it on the handlebar and dismounted, giving the low-slung, new building a once-over. Sound structure with shutters and a few details lending a homey feel without budget-eating extras. Obviously, a practical architect. Good for him. Or her.
“Tony, promise me you won’t say anything to upset Stella.”
He frowned. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Nothing about living someplace other than her house. Promise me.” The look in her eyes said she was in a no-nonsense mood.
“Fine, I promise.” Heaving a fortifying breath, he entered the rehab center with Maggie at his side, her fresh scent as mysterious as a rain forest. Too bad he didn’t have time to dwell on that instead of the eerily quiet tiled hall and the medicinal smell with floral undertones. Not like a funeral home smelled, but close enough.
“Relax,” Maggie instructed.
“Easy for you to say.”
“You’ll be fine.”
He was an idiot. And a coward. Nonna was somewhere close to eighty years old and injured. And he needed to improve his attitude before he faced her. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He could do this.
“Here we are.” Maggie stopped at a doorway. “You go in first.”
He raised a brow.
“I’m right behind you.”
With a sigh, he walked in. So this was what a standard room in a rehab center looked like. Not too bad. The room was filled with natural light from a large window overlooking tranquil farm fields. A vase of flowers sat on the wide window ledge anchoring a display of get-well cards and a few framed pictures of people and flowers. A clock hung over a bulletin board proclaiming the date and day of the week.
Finally, he brought his gaze to the bed. Nonna leaned against pillows, her eyes closed. He cringed at the multicolored bruises covering her weathered face and arms. She looked so old and fragile and helpless that it was hard to comprehend this woman was his strong, proud nonna who’d never needed anyone. Especially him.
Maggie took his arm and guided him over to the bed. She bent and kissed Nonna’s wrinkled cheek, Maggie’s health and vitality almost shocking in contrast to his grandmother’s. “Are you asleep?”
“Only resting.” Nonna opened her eyes to look at Maggie, a softness in her expression Tony didn’t remember.
Maggie stepped back and urged him closer to Nonna.
Nonna frowned up at him as if she wasn’t sure she could trust her eyes. “Anthony?”
“How are you doing?” He bent low. Should he kiss her? Had he ever kissed her when he was a kid? Or she him? She’d never been one of those soft, fuzzy grandmothers people talk about. Deciding to follow Maggie’s lead, he kissed Nonna’s cheek and straightened. There. That hadn’t been so hard, had it?
Nonna gave him a serious once-over. “You have grown into a man.”
“I have.” He had to grin as he caught himself stretching a little taller.
“You are even more like your papa than you were as a boy.”
Despite his best efforts, he stiffened.
As if sensing his dissent, Nonna narrowed her eyes. “Have you grown into a man inside as well as outside?”
“I try.”
“Are you home to stay?”
Home. In the eleven years he’d lived with her, never once had he considered Noah’s Crossing his home. But what was the point of telling her that again? “For a short time.”
She narrowed her eyes accusingly.
Obviously, a subject change was needed. “You look awfully good for a woman who fell down a flight of stairs. How did that happen?”
She smoothed her bedsheet with arthritic fingers. “I was hungry.”
“She went downstairs in the middle of the night to get a snack,” Maggie supplied.
Nonna pursed her lips as if disgusted. “My knee acts up when I do not expect it.”
“Thankfully, I woke up and found her.” Maggie lovingly stroked Nonna’s arm.
“I’m glad Maggie moved back with you after college.” Even if, just like when he’d read Nonna’s letter, he still couldn’t figure out why Maggie had returned to Noah’s Crossing once she’d escaped.
“Maggie is an angel.” Nonna beamed at her.
Maggie clasped her hand. “I’m the fortunate one.”
As Tony watched, their obvious love and respect for each other made him feel every bit the outsider he was, in spite of the Stefano blood pulsing through his arteries. “How long does the doctor think your hip will take to heal?”
Nonna gave a vague wave of her hand. “The doctor sees an old woman and thinks she is too old to mend.”
“If you’re not happy with your doctor, why don’t you talk to another one?” he asked.
“Doctors cost money,” she stated flatly.
“Use the checks I sent. I’ll send more money. I’m working on a big building contract in South America now.”
“South America is not your home, Anthony.”
Not the home thing again. He’d never been anything but honest about his aversion for Noah’s Crossing.
“He’s home now.” Maggie peered into Nonna’s eyes. “You need to enjoy him while he’s here.”
Leave it to Maggie to inject a positive note. Good thing he’d convinced her to come with him.
“Anthony, your checks are in the cookie jar on the second shelf in the pantry. You must use them to pay for my funeral.”
Outspoken as always. “Who said anything about dying?”
Maggie gave him a stricken look and focused on Nonna. “Of course you’re not going to die. Soon, your body will mend and you’ll be home working in your gardens with me again.”
Tony frowned at the certainty in her tone. She was living in a fantasy. Even if Nonna did recover, the old house had no accommodations for an elderly woman with a walker or a wheelchair.
“You will sleep in your old room, Anthony,” Nonna said matter-of-factly.
The room where he’d spent sleepless nights hatching elaborate schemes to run away to join his dad? He’d probably have nightmares. “I’ll stay at the motel near the rehabilitation center.” He crooked his thumb in that direction.
Nonna scowled. “You must stay in your home with Maggie and Hannah and sleep in your room.”
Didn’t she understand he wasn’t a kid she could order around anymore? He stole a glance urging Maggie to bail him out.
She didn’t look any too happy with Nonna’s command either. She glanced his way. “Just don’t expect a spiffy house and down-home cooking,” she said dryly.
No bailout there. This was turning into the nightmare he’d envisioned every time guilt had prodded him to come back. “I’m not used to either one. But who’s Hannah?”
“She is the granddaughter of a good friend who moved to Eau Claire this winter,” Nonna said, as if that explained everything.
It didn’t. “Why is she living at your house?”
“She needed a job for the summer, and Della needed help in the diner.”
“So you gave her a place to stay?”
“Of course.”
So now Maggie was responsible for her? He glanced in her direction.
“Hannah keeps me company while Stella is mending,” Maggie said.
“Of course,” Tony answered, wondering just how high Maggie’s stack of responsibilities went.
“You must not forget your home or your memories, Anthony. Memories remind us of our roots. Of who we are. Where we belong.”
Back to the home theme? He turned to his nonna. “I came back to see you, not to dredge up memories.”
“Dare I expect anything from my only grandchild?” Challenge blazed from the old woman’s dark eyes.
He wanted to jab back. Apparently, old habits died hard. But she was elderly and injured, he reminded himself as he held on to reason. Every letter, every phone call, she urged him to come home. He studied her. “I came back to honor you.”
Her eyes opened a little wider. “How can I believe you when you did not honor your own papa in his coffin?”
Aw, back to good old Dad again. Tony clenched his jaw hard, fighting to imprison harsh words. Why in the world would he have flown across several continents to honor the man who’d ditched him when he was six? But in this case, he had a good reason. “I didn’t receive your letter in time. I phoned to tell you that.”
“Tony, will you add water to the wildflowers on the window ledge?” Maggie’s voice cut through the tension.
If anybody knew how he felt about his dad, it was Maggie, and she was obviously giving him an out.
“You must never forget your papa, Anthony.”
She couldn’t be serious. “He forgot me when I was six.”
Maggie jerked her head to glare at him as if he’d done something unforgivable. Nonna’s look felt even worse.
You’d think he was a kid again. “It’s the truth,” he said in his own defense.
“He could not take you with him on his violin tours,” Nonna stated.
&
nbsp; “Why not? I toured with him and my mother before she died.”
Nonna looked away.
What was he doing? He negotiated with some very powerful people. Why did he have so much trouble carrying on a simple conversation with his grandmother? Remembering he was there because he owed her an apology or two, he tried to regroup. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help you in your grief.”
“A good son would honor his papa.”
Her words felt like a kick to the gut. “And a good father wouldn’t abandon his kid.”
Nonna glared at him. “He was a good papa before your mamma died.”
“What about all those years after?”
“He did the best he could.”
“No, he didn’t. He dumped me and never came back, never even remembered my birthdays.”
“He called on the telephone.”
Tony had always suspected Nonna tracked down his father and insisted he talk to his son. “Only to make promises he never intended to keep. You can’t defend that.”
Maggie shoved the vase of flowers into his hand. “Get water for these.”
He met her eyes and realized how far off the mark his reunion with Nonna had gone.
Maggie held his gaze, as if willing him to keep his mouth shut.
He grasped the vase. Chest heavy, he turned and headed for the door. Was making peace with Nonna too much to hope for?
“I’ll be right back, Stella.” Maggie fell into step beside him.
Out in the hall, he strode away from Nonna’s room as fast as he could…even when what he really wanted was to charge back into the fray and make Nonna see her son for what he was. Why couldn’t she understand his point for once and admit he’d had a rotten father?
“Hey, Tony,” Maggie’s voice interrupted. “The water for the flowers is in the other direction.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “That sure went well.”
She gave him a serious frown. “You promised you wouldn’t upset her. She needs all her strength to heal.”
“She attacked me, not the other way around.”
“She’s hurt because you’ve ignored her all these years. She misses you.”
He eyed her incredulously. “Is that why she’s so glad to see me?”