Amazing Grace

by Lesley Crewe

  The doctor comes in the next morning and he seems concerned. He motions me out to the hall.

  “I’m going to keep your aunt in for another day or so. Just to be careful.”

  “Something’s wrong. I know it.”

  “Any injury or shock to the system with the elderly has to be monitored and we’re doing that. Why don’t you take Mae home and you can visit with her later today. She needs to rest.”

  So that’s what I do, with Aunt Mae resisting the entire time. I call their friend Erna and ask if she can come and sit with Aunt Mae while I go back to the hospital. Erna’s over about fifteen minutes later with a pan of squares and a hot water bottle.

  I hold Aunt Pearl’s hand while she sleeps, and tuck the blankets around her. I must have drifted off for a minute because she has to squeeze my hand to get me to open my eyes. I jump off the chair.

  “Hi, how are you feeling?” I reach for a soft cloth and gently rub her forehead.

  She stares at me, her thin, wrinkled face ageing before my eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Aunt Pearl? Your arm is going to get better. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Stop talking. Now listen to me. Mae and I had our wills done up recently—”

  “Don’t talk like that!”

  She gives me a look, and I stop.

  “We’re leaving you the house. I expect you to look after Mae when I’m gone. I have a goodly sum of money that will help you to do that. Anything left over, I want you to take and use for your education. I always wanted to go to university, but my sisters needed me and I’ve had a good life. Although I do regret never seeing a Broadway show. Regardless, it’s a miracle that you came back to us, and I’m forever grateful to God for that.”

  My hands are shaking. “Please don’t die on me.”

  “Knowing you’ll be here for Mae gives me peace of mind.”

  “But you’re not sick! You just broke your arm!”

  “I have breast cancer. I’ve had it for a while, but I didn’t want to upset Mae. Our mother died of it and it terrifies her. The doctor knows, I asked him not to say anything.”

  “Oh no. Oh no.”

  She squeezes my hand again. “You’ll be fine. You have survived more in your young life than a body should have to. You are Amazing Grace, don’t forget.”

  She dies three days later.

  The first thing I do is drive to the abandoned quarry, where I know Devon and his deadbeat friends are hanging out, and race the car right up to him. He has to jump out of the way.

  “Whoa! What the fuck is your problem?” he says as I get out of the car.

  I march up to him and punch him in the face. He’s so shocked, I punch him again and knock his front tooth out. Then I jump on him and kick the crap out of him, his idiot friends laughing to kill themselves. He’s still on the ground when I point at him. “You are a piece of shit. And if you ever come near me or my family again, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me? I’ll kill you, because I have nothing to lose. Do you understand?”

  He gives me a nod. When I get back in the car I spin my wheels and spray dirt and gravel all over the bastard.

  Aunt Mae is never the same after that. I look after her as best I can. She’s like a little girl at first, always wanting to be near me. I bathe her and wash her hair. She loves it when I rub cream on her hands and asks me to read to her at night by the fire.

  While the winds howls outside and the fire crackles, we slip into the world of L. M. Montgomery.

  “I swear if Matthew Cuthbert was alive and well, I’d marry him,” she says.

  About two years pass before her senility creeps up behind us and robs her of her cheery self. She starts a fire in the kitchen one morning, and it’s only luck that I manage to control it before it gets out of hand. But the worst is the night she gets lost on me.

  My routine is to check on her before I go to bed, but she isn’t in her room. Panic rises up in my throat as I holler her name over and over. She’s not in the house, and now I see the back door open. It’s early spring and the air is damp and cold. She’s outside in her nightie and slippers.

  The first thing I do is call the neighbours, even though it’s late. Many cars speed down our driveway and over twenty people start looking in the dark with me, all of us carrying flashlights and calling her name. What if she goes down to the lake? I’m responsible for her safety. I’m such an idiot.

  When someone shouts, “Over here!” my relief is instant. We run in the direction of the voice. It’s Bruce Samuels who finds her slumped under a fir tree down by the water. She’s trembling with cold and Bruce takes off his jacket and wraps it around her. Someone else has a blanket, and when Bruce lifts her to carry her back up the field, they drape that over her as well.

  Erna’s husband has his car running as Bruce and I manage to get her in the back. We race to the hospital and the doctors take over. I can only slump in a chair and rock back and forth. Erna sits down beside me.

  “It’s not your fault, dear. You’ve done your very best, but you can’t do it anymore. She needs to be in a home with twenty-four-hour care.”

  “She doesn’t want to go! She thinks Aunt Pearl is still alive. She refuses to leave her alone in the house. How am I supposed to deal with that? I can’t let her lose her sister.”

  Erna pats my back. “There, there now.”

  Aunt Mae never does go in a home. She develops pneumonia. I stay with her every day in the hospital, making sure she drinks her juice through a straw, and brushing her hair to soothe her. She doesn’t know who I am, but I know she likes having me there. She dies a couple of weeks later.

  After the funeral, everyone wants me to come back to their place for some food, but I want to go home. I spend the night at the kitchen table and go through my photo albums. There’s one picture of the two of them that I love. Aunt Pearl is standing by our Thanksgiving turkey with the fork and carving knife at the ready, trying to teach me how to carve a bird. Aunt Mae is behind her with a butter knife pretending to cut her own throat, with her tongue hanging out.

  Goddamn it. I’m going to miss them.

  CHAPTER NINE

  NOW

  We’ve been walking the entire time, and now Melissa is weeping. I put my arm around her and she leans on me as we tramp back to our sanctuary. The minute the house comes into view, her lip goes down.

  “I wish I’d met them. I’m so proud of you for beating up that guy. I wish I was that brave. That’s exactly what I need to do with Kurt.”

  “Who’s Kurt?”

  “He’s the creep who made me take the pictures. I thought he was my boyfriend. He said if I didn’t do more, he’d show them to the whole school, so I did, but he put them online anyway and now everyone at school calls me a skank and I’m not! I’ve never even been with anyone. I’m such an idiot.”

  I let her cry as we cross the field. The minute we get back she curls up in her chair by the fire. Her cheeks are apple red. Now she looks like a real girl. A very sweet girl. We share a package of cashews.

  “You’re like the best cook.”

  “Hardly.”

  We munch together and I wish I could keep her here, but that’s not the way life works.

  “Do you mind if I make a suggestion about the Kurt issue?”

  “Like how to knock his teeth out?”

  “Unfortunately, in this day and age you’d be up for assault and that will solve nothing. I think you should tell your father about Kurt.”

  “No! That will make it worse! If Kurt finds out I ratted on him, I’m dead.”

  “That pimply-faced pervert is not the mafia. He’s a joke and he needs to be put in his place.”

  “By you?”

  “Your father is quite capable of dealing with it.”

  “I’m not sure about that. I don’t think he’s thrown a punch in his life.�
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  “A man is not a man by virtue of his fists. He loves you and he’s concerned enough that he called me, a woman he’s not that fond of, because he thought it might help you.”

  “Why doesn’t he like you very much?”

  “That’s another story, but it’s for his ears, not yours.”

  “I think you’re pretty cool, even though you act like Aunt Pearl.”

  This makes me laugh. “I’m not like Aunt Pearl!”

  “Trust me. You are.”

  I smile at her. “Really? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  She watches the fire. “What’s going to happen now?”

  “We’re going to go back to Fletcher’s place and leave for New York in a couple of days. Before your mom gets home. She’ll be missing you.”

  “I love this place.”

  “As I’ve said, you and your family and friends are more than welcome to come all summer. I’ll have the place spruced up by then, seeing as how we didn’t get much done this trip.”

  “I wish I had my phone with me. I want to take some pictures of the farmhouse.”

  “Take my cell. I’ll send them to you.”

  Melissa takes ten pictures of every room, paying special attention to Aunt Pearl’s bedroom. That gives me a great idea.

  “How about I give you Aunt Pearl’s makeup table? I can have it shipped to your Dad’s.”

  Her delight is obvious. “Do you mean it?”

  “Yes, but you have to promise me to treasure this. Don’t hide it under mounds of clothes or let laptops scratch it. It’s very precious to me, but I know you love it and I think Aunt Pearl would be tickled for you to have it, instead of it gathering dust here. Make it a showpiece in your room.”

  “You are so awesome, Gee! I love you!” She throws her arms around me.

  That night I call her father and tell him the plans.

  “So after a couple of days with you, she’s suddenly cured?”

  “For the love of Pete, of course she’s not cured. She’s relieved, that’s all. We’ll tell you about it when we get there.”

  “Does she miss me?”

  “Of course she does. You’re her father.”

  “What’s to stop her from reverting right back to old behaviours after you leave? Maybe I should have gone the psychiatrist route first.”

  “Sweet Jesus.”

  “I thought you were going to stop swearing.”

  “You would try the patience of a saint! Goodbye!”

  After I hang up I try to remember who said that to me once. It sounds familiar.

  The night before we leave for New York, I go in to say good night to Melissa and she’s reading a book from the pile I showed her the first night she got here.

  “Can I take this home?”

  “Feel free.”

  Perhaps I should wait to tell Jonathan first, but I’m so upset about this Kurt kid, I need to blow off a little steam. I tell Fletcher when we’re outside with the dogs for the final time that night. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “What is this world coming to? You know, it kind of makes me glad I never had kids. Now I wish I’d left the dogs at home when we picked her up. Poor little mite.”

  Flights back to New York are booked. No private plane needed for this jaunt. We pack up our suitcases and Fletch takes them out to the truck. Melissa is saying goodbye to the critters when he comes back in. “All set?”

  Melissa picks up Beulah. “I guess you better say goodbye to Beulah. Thank you for being so nice to her.”

  Fletch nods. “Bye, Beulah. Thanks for keeping me company.”

  I can’t watch. I’m about to go out the door when Melissa laughs.

  “She’s not going anywhere.”

  “What?”

  “She belongs with you.” Melissa kisses Beulah’s head and passes her over to Fletcher. “She’ll be a lot happier here. But can she come for the ride?”

  I could kiss her.

  Fletch does kiss her when he says goodbye, and she has a giant hug for him.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” I tell him as I give him a squeeze at the airport.

  “You plan on staying awhile?”

  “There are some things I need to say to Jonathan; we may need a little time. He’s in worse shape than she is.”

  “Good luck. We’ll be here waiting for you when you get home.”

  Then he and his five-pound sidekick drive into the sunset.

  The minute Melissa sees her father, her demeanour changes. It’s like she wants him to know she’s still suffering and that he was the one who put her through the wringer.

  Kids are a pain.

  On the way out to the car, Jonathan says, “I thought you said she missed me.”

  “Hormones.”

  We’re back in the tower and I can feel my blood pressure rising. What is it about this building that makes it hard for me to breath?

  Linn offers to take our suitcases and I’m back in the hotel room. It feels like I never left. Melissa immediately runs to her room to pick up her electronic gadgets. Jonathan says he has to make a few phone calls. In the space of a minute, this tiny family has disappeared into their own private worlds. Whatever happened to “How was your trip?”

  No time like the present. I open the door to Melissa’s room. “Stop texting and get out here.”

  She doesn’t look up. “Give me a minute! I just got home.”

  “Now!”

  She throws the cell on the bed but she follows me. The two of us walk into Jonathan’s study and he’s on his cell talking shop.

  “Get off the phone. If I made her do it, you can too.”

  Jonathan gives me a dirty look. “Sorry Frank, can I call you in the morning? Something’s just come up. Thanks.” He clicks off the phone. “Can’t this wait for five minutes?”

  “I don’t have five minutes and she certainly doesn’t have five minutes. I don’t want her sucked back into the despair that is her life at this particular moment. You asked me to help and this is me helping you, believe it or not.”

  “All right.”

  “These days, with the wonderful inventions called cell phones, tablets, and laptops, if a boy happens to take a picture of a girl in a compromising position, and let’s face it, that’s almost every day, they can use that image to threaten them with ridicule over the Internet if the girl doesn’t keep sending naked pictures of herself, which is blackmail in my books. It’s a real phenomenon and it’s happening under your watch, because you don’t know what’s going on in your daughter’s life. You know the symptoms of the problem, the drinking, the doping, but you don’t know the actual problem because you didn’t bother to find out. Stop being so wrapped up in your own concerns. You’re disregarding this child—something you’ve accused me of for years, and you are a hundred percent right. I’ve done that to you, and I want to ask your forgiveness. But first I want you and Melissa to come up with a plan that will stop this torture instantly, and I don’t care if that means taking her out of that disgusting preppy school you’ve got her in, or letting her stay with her mother—and believe me, you’re going to tell her mother. This ends tonight. Melissa is a delightful child who’s being ignored to death.”

  I fall into the nearest chair, out of breath and dizzy. Both my son and my granddaughter stare at me.

  “I started this conversation. You two better finish it right now.”

  Jonathan looks sick. “Is this true, Melissa? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She gets upset. “You think I want my dad to know that I was stupid enough to send pictures of my boobs to a guy? Yeah, I’m going to scream that from the rooftops. I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

  Now she’s crying and he gets up and puts his arms around her. Finally, someone is doing something constructive. After they part, I hand them a
box of tissues and the two of them sit back down, Melissa near me and Jonathan back behind his desk.

  “So what are you going to do about this?” I ask him.

  “I’m going to call the school, and I want to know who this boy is. I will be contacting his parents.”

  Melissa jumps up. “You can’t! They’ll know and then everyone in school will make it ten times worse! I’ll figure it out myself.”

  “You will do no such thing,” he says.

  “So you’re going to let me go to school and be hated more than I already am?”

  “No, I’m taking you out of that school. There are plenty of others. I don’t want you in that building.”

  “But…my friends…”

  “These people are not your friends, Melissa. What friend would cause you this kind of pain?” He stands up and walks to his wall of windows. “So much for wanting your child to hobnob with the best families in the best schools. That little sonofabitch. He and his family will pay for this.”

  Now, that’s probably not going to happen, but it’s sure impressing Melissa.

  “When your mother finds this out, she’ll want to help, and I think she can do that by keeping you with her until we can devise a plan for another school. That way you aren’t even in the neighbourhood. I don’t want you bumping into these little creeps even accidentally. No, you’re going to your mother’s. I’m calling her right now.”

  I wonder if he noticed these were all my suggestions. Who cares? I’m proud of him.

  Fortunately, Melissa’s mom, Deanne, is back from her exotic honeymoon and is appropriately horrified by the situation. The next day she leaves lover boy at home and comes charging into the apartment with steam coming out of her designer ears. Despite her boob job and puffed-up lips, I like Deanne. She always wore the pants in the family, and I’m grateful she’s on board.

  “Oh my God! How did this happen? Hi, Grace. You look well. Where’s my darling girl? Melissa!”

  Melissa comes out of her room and Deanne runs down the hall to her. I notice Melissa’s face crumble before her mom gives her a bear hug, and then they disappear behind Melissa’s bedroom door. You’re never too old to need your mother.