last attempt at convincing Lucy had been a failure.
“You’d save money and it’d be easier on you,” Noelle had coaxed, thinking the argument more or less made itself.
She’d thought wrong.
“I’m not interested in saving money or ‘easier.’ I’m interested in my independence,” Lucy had responded, cutting the discussion down before it had any time to take root. “I’m the one who taught you about that, remember?” she’d said.
Slipping on her shoes, Noelle glanced over toward her daughter. Melinda was still on the sofa, diligently keeping watch.
C’mon, Lucy, where are you? Noelle thought impatiently.
Though she didn’t like to dwell on it, the simple fact was that Lucy was in her late seventies and things had a tendency to happen to people at that age.
Lots of things, Noelle thought, biting her lower lip as she carried on a heated internal debate as to whether or not to call her grandmother.
“Whether” won.
Taking out her cell phone, Noelle began to press the series of numbers on the keypad that would successfully connect her to her grandmother’s smart phone.
She’d just pressed the last number and was waiting to hear the sound that would tell her the call had gone through when she saw Melinda suddenly jump up and down on the sofa.
“She’s here! She’s here!” Melinda declared in a triumphant voice.
Scrambling off the sofa, the redheaded pint-size dynamo made an instant beeline for the front door, apparently ready to throw it open.
“Melinda!” Noelle called after her sharply. She managed to stop her daughter in her tracks, just short of yanking open the front door. “What did I tell you about opening the front door?” she asked, crossing the room in a few quick steps.
“Not to,” Melinda repeated dutifully, her lower lip sticking out in a pout to end all pouts. “But this is Lucy. We hafta open the door for Lucy,” she insisted. “Lucy can’t get in unless we open the door.”
“Terrific,” Noelle muttered under her breath as she shook her head in disbelief. “I’m raising a minilawyer.” Taking a deep breath, she answered Melinda as if she was talking to an adult instead of a six-year-old. Brighter than most children several years older than she was, Melinda responded to being acknowledged rather than ignored. “Lucy can get in because I’m going to open the door for her, not you. When you get to be my size, you can open the door for her, too. Understand?”
The small, open face scrunched up as Melinda obviously pondered her mother’s words. “How tall are you, Momma?”
“Taller than you. Look, we’ll talk,” she promised the little girl, breezing by her. She flipped the lock on her front door to the open position. “Hi!” Noelle said brightly, greeting her grandmother as she walked in.
“Hi,” Lucy echoed back in a less-than-enthusiastic tone.
Even if Lucy’s tone of voice had sounded chipper, Noelle would have immediately realized that something was definitely wrong. While no one had ever accused Lucinda O’Banyon of being cheerful, she was chipper and behaved closer in age to her great-granddaughter than to the octogenarian she would soon become.
Lucy’s voice, coupled with the fact that she had come very close to being late for the first time since Noelle had known the woman, had Noelle back to being concerned. Really concerned.
“What’s wrong?” she asked the older woman pointedly.
This would have been the place where her still very shapely, attractive and feisty grandmother would have denied that there was anything wrong and then turn the tables on her, putting her on the defensive by demanding to know why she thought anything was wrong, etc.
Noelle knew the way her grandmother responded to events almost as well as she knew how she herself responded to things. Better, actually, since there were times when she was unclear as to her own reactions. She was never confused about Lucy’s reactions and motivation. Lucy was reliable, predictable and, more than that, the older woman had been her rock for ages now.
Neither one of her parents had ever been very “parental.” Her mother, Adriana, viewed being a mother as an inconvenience that got in the way of her lifestyle, and while her father, Howard, had shown signs of wanting some sort of a relationship with his only child, he was firmly entrenched under her mother’s thumb. Being so didn’t allow him to deviate from the plans Adriana had set in motion for him. He was her escort, her consort and the man who paid for all the expenses despite the fact that in the grand scheme of things, Adriana’s family had more money than her father did.
As far back as she could remember, her parents were always going to one country or another, usually getting there via some lavish cruise. That sort of lifestyle had no room for a pubescent daughter who needed regular schooling of some sort. So time and again, her parents would deposit her with her grandmother and take off.
In the beginning, they would pick her up again when they returned from whatever vacation hot spot had lured them away. But by and by, with each trip that became less the case. At first, a few days would go by before they would come for her. But then a few days would knit themselves into a week and then two, until one day, they “forgot” to come for her at all. After that, she stopped seeing her parents between their travels.
Noelle adjusted accordingly.
Though Lucy wasn’t ordinarily given to protestations of feelings or any overwhelming displays of emotions, her grandmother made her feelings for her known through actions and the interest that Lucy took in the various events—large or small—occurring in Noelle’s life.
Whether it was through her vigilance regarding basic hygiene or making sure that her grades were kept up, her grandmother made a point in having her finger in every pie that was part of her young life.
And Noelle loved her for it.
She noticed now that Lucy was not shrugging off her question, but neither was her grandmother immediately answering it.
Noelle examined the older woman more closely, seeing her grandmother’s reluctance to talk coming in direct conflict with an obvious apparent need to talk.
Noelle decided to try to help the matter along a little. Her eyes met her grandmother’s. “Tell me,” she coaxed softly.
Lucy took a deep breath as if bracing herself for the words that were to emerge from her lips. “Henry died,” the woman replied quietly.
Henry, Henry. Noelle searched her brain, trying to match the name to a piece of information that might have been carelessly tossed her way in one of their many conversations, both recent and from years past. Lucy was not one to go on at length about anything, but she did mention a great many things in passing.
And then it clicked into place.
“Henry, that’s the friend you visit at that senior retirement home on Thursdays,” Noelle remembered.
“Every other Thursday,” Lucy corrected. “Henry was Dan’s friend,” her grandmother told her, referring to her late husband, the grandfather she had never known.
