Fake, maybe? She was faking for Dad?
I couldn’t make it seem plausible. Just as I was putting everything back in the box, my cell phone started buzzing. I knew instinctively it was Cole without even looking, so I pulled it up to my ear and began talking.
“How do you go from seemingly being happy and loving someone to completely abandoning them overnight?” I asked.
“What?!” he exclaimed, sounding surprised.
“Oh, not you,” I clarified. “I’m talking about Rita. I found a box of her stuff in Charlie’s closet, and it’s bizarre.”
“I thought you and Trina were going to hang out,” he sighed, presumably not wanting to talk about the BM.
“Yeah, right!” I laughed. “Trina sacked out at seven-thirty. When I got here this afternoon, she smelled like a zookeeper and was crying uncontrollably.”
“You’re exaggerating,” he chuckled softly.
“No, not really,” I assured him. “I gave Cooper his bath, and I fed him and put him to sleep.”
“See there?” he said, sounding proud. “You are going to be a great mom.”
“It’s only been a couple of hours, so I’m pretty sure anyone could have managed,” I replied. “Anyway, once Cooper fell asleep, I started going through this box. I found a bunch of pictures of my dad, and baby pictures...”
“I bet you were a beautiful baby,” he added teasingly.
“How can you be so blasé?” I admonished. “I am having a legitimate emotional experience here. The least you can do is be righteously perplexed with me.”
“Righteously perplexed,” he repeated sarcastically. “Cam, I swear, sometimes you are just too cute.”
“Negative emotional outbursts are not cute,” I argued.
“They are when they come from you.” Right about then I heard Cooper begin to rustle in his crib, which was followed by a tiny wail.
“Oh, no, Cooper’s awake,” I moaned. “I think it’s going to be a long night.”
“Go take care of the baby,” he ordered quietly. “I love you, even though you’re completely insane.”
“And I love you, even though you’re completely unsympathetic,” I teased. “Goodnight.”
I hung up the phone and crossed the hall to Cooper’s room, lifting him up and cradling him in my arms. I softly asked him what was wrong, since I knew he couldn’t be hungry and he had only been asleep for maybe half an hour. He struggled a little against me and twisted up his face. It seemed like he was uncomfortable, so I tried again to burp him and managed to be successful. As soon as he was comfortable again, he fell right to sleep in my arms. I waited only a moment before I took him back to his crib and laid him down.
Heading back out into the hallway, I forgot that I had pulled the box out quite so far, and I fell clumsily over it, sprawling out in the floor on my stomach. Rita, I hissed, glaring at the box. I checked my knees for carpet burns and then shoved the box back into the closet, picking up instead the box of my grandma’s things. I sunk to my knees and gently pulled it open, and my breath caught in my chest as her familiar scent wafted up into the air. A sob choked my throat, and I struggled to quietly catch my breath without waking Trina or Cooper.
What I wouldn’t give to have her back here for even five minutes – to tell her about Cole, and how I had finally found my roots. And, of course, to tell her how very grateful I am to her, and how much I love her.
“Oh, Grandma,” I cried quietly as I pulled her blue sweater out of the box. Grandma had worn that sweater nearly every day, because Charlie liked the house too cold, she said. These things must have been items that Charlie found worth saving when he officially moved in. When she passed away, she and I had been living in the house together and Charlie was in an apartment off on his own. I hadn’t handled things well at all – the first two days I went through the motions with Charlie taking the lead. The day of the funeral, I basically followed him around like a puppet and spoke to no one.
Immediately after the funeral, I assured Charlie I would be fine alone in the house. He was understandably worried about me, but I managed to put up a pretty good front. The first night, I didn’t sleep at all. Every time I tried to close my eyes, I felt like she was hovering over me. The following day, I couldn’t seem to drag myself away from her bedroom. Sitting silently on the bed, I stared at the wall for hours. After another night of feeling like I was entertaining ghosts, I knew I wouldn’t be able to escape the pain of loss in that house. The next morning, I had all my belongings in the back of my car and I was headed to Dallas.
Now that I was looking back at my actions, I recognized them as cowardly and selfish, but I honestly felt at the time that I couldn’t cope. Charlie called me late the next day, nearly frantic with worry at my disappearance. When he realized I was fine, he didn’t talk to me for a few days. When I was finally able to get in touch with him, he told me he and Trina had taken over the task of cleaning out Grandma’s things, and he was going to move into the house. He kindly asked me if I wanted to move back in as well, but I told him it was impossible.
These were the things Charlie and Trina felt were important enough to save, I thought. What might I have thought was important, if I had the courage to stay? Whatever it would have been, I’m sure it’s long gone now.
I gingerly wrapped the blue sweater around my shoulders and peered into the cardboard box, pulling out a container she used to hold her jewelry. Inside I found two necklaces and a couple of clip-on earrings, but nothing that looked valuable. Not remembering her ever wearing jewelry, I set those things aside. Pulling aside a few doilies that I remembered her crocheting herself, I came across a small wooden chest. I lifted it up and gingerly placed it on my lap, tipping back the attached lid. My first thought was to wonder whether Charlie had gone through this, because if he had how could he not have mentioned it to me before?
Several of my grade school assignments sat on the top. The first one looked like it was written in the first or second grade: A Little About My Family. “My Grandma is nice. She loves me. She is my mom and dad because I don’t have one. She is good at cookies.”
The second one was in cursive, so I figured it was third or fourth grade. It was an essay entitled, “What Family Means to Me.” It was a little more eloquent, but once again it was all about Grandma. Third, I pulled out a handwritten card I had given her for her birthday when I was probably thirteen. Directly under that was a picture Charlie had drawn when he was fairly young of the three of us at the park. Naturally, he had drawn himself holding a baseball bat.
There were other things in the box – letters from people she knew and little mementos that I was sure I could figure out if I pondered them hard enough, but I didn’t want to invest too much time in it at the moment. Instead, I set them aside and pulled out one of those in memoriam pamphlets they hand out at funerals, recognizing my grandpa. He died only about six months before my dad, so I didn’t remember him. I had seen his picture enough over the years, though, that I instinctively knew that face. Grandma had scrawled something across the front of the pamphlet: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” She must have been so sad when Grandpa died, thinking of the remainder of their lives that they hoped to spend together, suddenly cut short. Still, the scripture she wrote next to Grandpa’s face indicated that she was hopeful.
The one that she wrote next to Dad’s? Not so much.
“How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart?”
A solitary tear trailed down my cheek as I stared at Dad’s face and contemplated Grandma’s grief. The two people she loved most, taken so closely together. Of course, she hadn’t been able to mourn my father properly, because right after the funeral Rita dumped us with her and disappeared.
Just like me when Grandma died, I thought sadly. Charlie must
have been completely disappointed in me.
Imagining what Charlie would think of me at that moment, sitting in his hallway crying pathetically, I managed to force a little composure back into my body. Taking a deep breath, I wandered into Cooper’s room to gaze down at him again, content that he was sleeping. Aware that my own slumbering hours were probably going to be precious that night, I decided that I should leave the box of Grandma’s things for later. I returned to the hallway and began picking up the miscellaneous items to place them in the wooden chest, when I noticed a folded piece of expensive-looking stationery. I picked it up and unfolded it carefully, seeing the name Gianni Costa across the top, dated from a year that I would have been close to ten. As I started reading, my eyes grew wide:
Dear Wilhelmina,
Arrangements have been made for the children to be enrolled in a boarding school in Rome for the upcoming year. Please make whatever plans are required to prepare them for relocation. It will not be necessary to send any of their belongings – Mr. Costa has agreed to let the children remain here in the manner which he prescribes, which will include a mode of dress that he approves and a proper education. He does not want them bringing any American customs or belongings with them.
Upon receiving your response to this letter with acceptable dates, I will send plane tickets.
Thank you for your assistance with the children. Once they are safely in Italy, Mr. Costa will make sure you are compensated accordingly.
Sincerely,
Rita Costa
The letter itself, while startling, was not drawing my attention as much as what was written along the bottom. In my grandmother’s looping cursive writing were inscribed only a couple of lines: God forgive me, but I can’t do it. They are all I have.
Chapter Twenty
Between thinking about Grandma and Cooper waking up, I got basically no sleep that night. At around three o’clock, I gave up putting him in the crib and placed him protectively inside my arm in the recliner, where we both dozed off for a couple of hours. Content that those hours were better than nothing, I made myself a pot of coffee as soon as the sun rose, becoming quite effective at holding the baby and using only one arm.
Trina woke up at around ten, and even though I was fairly tired, I pretended that everything had been wonderful. I felt quite pleased with myself, knowing that I had given her a full night’s sleep. She relieved me of Cooper while I took a shower, and then I talked her into loading Cooper into the car so we could go out for lunch. With all the preparations she made to take him out, it seemed as though we were going on a week-long vacation.
The Trina who peppered me with conversation at lunch was much more the Trina I was accustomed to, instead of the sleepy woman who had greeted me the day before. Of course it didn’t take long before I managed to work the subject of Grandma’s box of memories into the conversation.
“Did Charlie go through that stuff at all?” I asked. “I’m a little surprised he didn’t mention it before.”
“Nah, you know Charlie,” she said, letting her fork hang in midair. “He’s not much the sentimental type. We boxed that stuff up right after the funeral, and then I think he basically forgot about it until he was digging through all the junk in the attic a couple weeks ago.”
“Why was he going through the attic, anyway?” I asked, picking up a fry. “You’re not thinking of selling the house, are you?”
“No, of course not,” she laughed. “He said he was looking for something, but who knows what it was. He never came down with anything that I saw.” Right about then, her cell phone started singing a familiar pop song. “Speak of the devil… Hey, Charlie, we were just talking about you.”
Cooper cooed a little from his seat, and I leaned down to talk to him for a moment. When I had seen people talking to babies in the past, I always thought it was a little strange. It didn’t feel so unnatural, though, now that I was doing it myself.
“Well, tell him thank you, of course, but I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Trina said on the phone. “No, I don’t think I will let you talk to Camdyn… I think you know why not. You two don’t have any sense when it comes to that stuff… Charlie, I can’t take Cooper…”
“What’s he talking about?” I wanted to know, but she shook her head to brush me off.
“I know people do it, but I’m not people, I’m the mother of your child,” she stated. “Charlie Taylor, I’m not… Fine, I’ll ask her. Okay, I’ll ask her.” She put her hand over the phone and looked at me with exasperation. “One of the guys Charlie works with has a sick kid.”
“And?” I continued, knowing that couldn’t be the end of the story.
“And…he has tickets to tonight’s game.”
“So we’re going to the Cardinals game,” I sang in a cheery voice, but she shook her head adamantly.
“With a baby?!” she pointed out, widening her eyes for effect.
“We’re going to the Cardinals game with a baby,” I corrected myself. She rolled her eyes and looked at me as though I was a child.
“Of course, what do you think she said?” she continued her phone conversation. “She’s your kid sister, and you’re a couple of crazy freaks, if you ask me. Yes, I know where that is, and I will make her go pick them up. If I didn’t feel a little badly about the fact that she stayed up with Cooper all night, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Oh, whatever, Charlie, I have to go.” She hung up and glared at me across the table.
“I will protect Cooper with my very life,” I stated, putting my hand over my heart.
“Oh, shut up,” she sighed, going back to her lunch.
-§-
If I thought preparing to go to lunch was bad, watching Trina organize Cooper’s things for the ballgame was like watching a hoarder prepare for the apocalypse. I tried to help her for a few minutes, but soon decided she was being a little ridiculous, so I went out on the back deck with Cooper in my arms. He was wearing an adorable Cardinals outfit, and Trina had packed two others – one for if he threw up, and one for if he had a blowout. She probably packed a couple extra outfits for herself as well, for all I knew; she certainly could have in that gigantic bag.
“You have a pretty good spread here, Coop,” I whispered to him. “It used to be my stomping ground, so I know what I’m talking about. We had it okay here, didn’t we, your daddy and me? To think, we could have been shipped off to some boarding school in Rome.”
Gosh, I would have had a different life, wouldn’t I, if Grandma would have sent us to Italy like Rita wanted? I probably wouldn’t have been here for her at all. Charlie and I wouldn’t be close. I doubt if I would have ever met Trina. Charlie wouldn’t have met Trina. Cooper wouldn’t be here.
“I guess Grandma knew what she was doing, huh, little buddy?” His delicate eyes stared up at my face, and even though he probably couldn’t see me so clearly, I imagined that he was studying me intently.
“Ready, Aunt Crazy?” Trina called from inside. She had been calling me that all afternoon, trying to make me feel bad, but it wasn’t working. I kind of liked being Aunt Crazy.
We strapped Cooper into the car and then traveled toward the stadium with Trina complaining the entire way. “Of all the stupid things you’ve done, Cam, this takes the cake. Taking a baby to a baseball game. What if he cries? What if I can’t find a place to put the diaper bag? What if someone spills a drink on him? What if I can’t find a place to change his diaper?”
What if you relax a little? Honestly, you’re acting like we are going on a suicide mission instead of to a delightful evening spent enjoying America’s favorite pastime.
Making my mind up that she would have put her foot down and said no if she really found the game that objectionable, I decided to ignore her. When she grumbled about traffic, I turned around and talked to Cooper. When she complained about paying so much to park, I handed her a twenty without a word. She was silent on the way into the stadium, but as soon as she had to have that diaper bag searched, sh
e started in on me again.
We had almost made it to our seats when she decided she should proactively check Cooper’s diaper, and she insisted that I go into the restroom with her. Whatever it was she thought she would find in there, she obviously felt that it required a tag-team effort. When she found nothing, I managed to wait until she turned away from me to roll my eyes.
Our seats were about twenty rows up on the third base line, and Trina insisted we were too close. She stood there awkwardly for a few moments, debating the wisdom of sitting down, until eventually a rather gruff gentleman behind us insisted that she plant it.
“We’re too close,” she repeated to me again.
“Honestly, Trina, what do you want me to do? I can’t just go take someone else’s seats.”
“Maybe we could trade,” she suggested.
“Just sit still and quit worrying, will you? As long as you pay attention to the game, you’ll be fine.”
The only problem was, Trina didn’t pay attention to the game. She never did.
In the bottom of the first inning, when our team had a double that ended up being an RBI, she was on her phone texting someone. During the second inning, I looked over to see that she was shopping for sunglasses on her phone. At the end of the third inning, one of the cameras had found us and was broadcasting Cooper’s picture over the televisions across the stadium. Of course, Trina came to life for that, waving and looking like the most excited baseball fan in the world. Remembering the last time I had been video-recorded at the stadium, I shrunk back just a tad.
Sometime during the fifth inning, Trina decided she was thirsty and asked me to go get her a drink. Protesting inwardly, I marched over to the concession stand, turning my back on the game. When I heard a loud cheer erupt, I really wanted to stomp my foot or do something equally childish, but I refrained. Finally getting her lemonade, I made my way back to our section just in time, because at the same moment I was setting that lemonade in Trina’s cup holder, a screeching foul ball was shot directly at us. Instinctively I placed my body between the ball and Cooper, and somehow, miraculously, that ball ended up in my hand. I wasn’t sure how it happened, or whether I could have done it again in a million years. All I knew was that I had protected my nephew, I had caught a foul ball, and my hand hurt like the dickens.
A Reason to Be Alone (The Camdyn Series Book 2) Page 26