Chapter 13
Two weeks of kayaking every afternoon of the glorious Indian summer that had settled in had given Linney’s arm muscles better definition, and they no longer screamed at her when she pulled the double-edged paddle through the still water. Today, she’d been out a little longer than usual, paddling over to the island she and Derek would take a picnic to back in high school, and she’d found a pretty pink granite rock to add to her collection.
Gran always said the lake healed people, and while Linney had laughed at her as a teenager, now she was sure she was right. The distance from the UK and time with her friends was closing the wound and giving her the strength to advocate for the next step for her career.
As Linney pulled her beloved boat up to the dock, she could see Gran on the porch, as usual, waiting for her to come back. Giving a quick wave as pulled the kayak up onto the shore, Linney opened the boathouse and hung up her paddle before shrugging out of her life jacket. Closing the door, she was surprised to see Gran still sitting in her chair. Usually, her grandmother made the effort—and Linney knew it was an effort—to come down the stairs and shuffle partway down the path to greet her and give her a kiss.
But today, something was different. As Linney approached the house, she somehow knew Gran had slipped away quietly, at her beloved lake house, watching the water and waiting for her granddaughter to come home. She stood there for a moment, trying to process the scene. Suddenly it all made sense. Gran had desperately wanted her home for this visit. She’d told all of the old stories. She refused to consider leaving. She’d known.
She’d known this would be her last visit with her Linney. It was her time.
Putting emotions to one side, and taking a deep breath, Linney called an ambulance. It seemed like an eternity before it arrived, so while she waited, Linney put an afghan over her grandmother’s lap. It was pointless, she knew, but she felt she had to do something. She sat down beside her and numbly, held Gran’s hand, rubbing it gently.
She stood aside silently, watching the paramedics work when they arrived. She understood they had to do it, but she knew in her heart that Gran was long gone. She followed the ambulance, and when the news was official, she called Jake from the hospital. Gran had been lucky. She hadn’t been seriously ill, and she’d been able to stay in the house right to the end. She’d passed peacefully, and they were all grateful for it. Jake kept clearing his throat gruffly as he offered to get in the car right now if she needed him to, but she told him she’d be fine until he and the family came the next day.
When she got back to the house, she walked across to the yellow house next door. Mrs. Blake had seen the ambulance and the look on Linney’s face told her all she needed to know. “She was a wonderful lady, Linney, and a good friend. More than you probably know. Your grandmother was very good to us when Derek’s father left.” Linney nodded. For the first time, she realized that maybe Mrs. Blake and she had more in common than she’d thought. “Let me know how I can help.” Linney nodded again, not quite trusting her voice.
In a moment, she pushed her glasses up her nose and said quietly, “I think I’m okay for now, but thank you. You were a good friend to Gran too, and I know you’ve helped a lot since I left. I can’t thank you enough.” After another hug, she headed back home. There was a lot to do. Her Gran, her rock, was gone.
* * *
“Hi, Mum. What’s up?”Derek picked up the phone quickly when he saw his mother’s ID pop up. She didn’t often call, and she knew he was away. “What?! How is she?” Derek raked his hands through his curly hair. Linney’s world must be shattered. “Why didn’t she call me?” This was the second big blow for her in a few months. His colleagues looked at him, surprised at the strident tone of voice.
“Everything alright at home?” a grey-haired paralegal asked. “Your wife?”
“What? No, no. It’s not Olivia. It’s my best friend.” He strode out of the conference room and leaned on the glass wall outside before turning his attention back to his mother. “I can’t believe she thought I’d be too busy for this. I’ll text her right away. Thanks for calling.”
Mrs. Blake hung up, knowing she’d done the right thing. She looked out the window, and when she didn’t see cars in the driveway except for Linney’s rental, she texted her son. She didn’t think Linney had called Anna or Kirsten either.
Back in Calgary, Derek messaged Linney right away.
I just heard about your Gran. I am SO sorry for your loss. Tell me what I can do to help. What do you need?
When she didn’t answer, he tried again.
I’m worried about you. I know we haven’t talked a lot recently. Please let me know you’re OK.
Ten more minutes went by.
Linney? Please answer me.
I don’t think I’ll ever be OK again. Jake’s coming up tomorrow.
You’re alone?! I will ALWAYS be there for you, no matter what. Do you need to talk? Call me if you do.
Thanks, but there are no words. Funeral on Wednesday, I think.
I’ll be there. Love you, Linney.
Derek called his boss and spoke with the head of Calgary Legal Aid. He knew he would be leaving them in a pinch, but this was important.
* * *
Anna and Kirstenleaped into action when they received Derek’s text Within half an hour, they were at Linney’s door and they gathered her up into their arms when she let them in with a tired, sad smile.
“Thank you for coming,” she said quietly.
“Where else would we be?” asked Anna. “We’re so sorry for your loss.”
Kirsten held up a container of ice cream and a bag of chips. Comfort food. Linney pushed her glasses up and pointed to the ice cream. Anna got spoons, and they spent the night telling stories about Gran, their spoons dipping into the container until the softening ice cream was all gone. They fell asleep on the couch, and Linney’s friends woke early in the morning only when Jake’s car pulled into the driveway. Linney was still sound asleep.
“Thank you,” he said to both of them gruffly, when they expressed their condolences. Jake looked pale and distraught, no better than his sister. “And thank you for being with Linney last night. I couldn’t get up here any earlier.”
Kirsten spoke for them both. “She’d have done it for us. And Jake? Let us know if there’s anything at all we can do. Your grandmother was so loved in this town. There will be a lot of people who want to do something, anything. Even if you just want to use us to spread information, we’re up for the task.”
Jake smiled for the first time since Linney had called the day before. “Thanks, Kirsten. I think we’ll be alright. But I appreciate the offer. Rachael and the kids will be up tomorrow. Now you two had better get home.”
They left, and he smoothed Linney’s hair and gave her a kiss on the temple. Best to let her sleep a little longer, he thought. Yesterday had been tough for her, and the coming days wouldn’t be any easier.
* * *
It waswindy and grey when Derek arrived in Silver Lake. He slipped into an aisle seat at the church beside his mother just as the funeral was beginning. In the front pew was Rachael and with her children—Mrs. McDonnell’s great grandchildren—looking sombre. Jake and Linney walked down the aisle together. Jake was stoic, but his red-rimmed eyes betrayed the depth of his feelings for his grandmother. Linney’s eyes were blank behind her glasses. She stood pale and ramrod straight in her black dress, looking like she might shatter into a million pieces at any moment. Derek managed to grab her hand and squeeze it for just a second as she passed by. He saw just a flicker of recognition, and he was glad she knew he was there.
Despite the weather, it was a lovely funeral, and the church was full. Anna and Danny were there with their girls, and Kirsten sat with them. Jake did the eulogy and only choked up twice. Derek watched Linney closely. She sat with a straight back and never moved. He was worried about her. Several other people from Silver Lake got up and said nice things about her, including one woman representing KnitWorks. Derek’s mother spoke eloquently of her kindness and how she knew her neighbour was in a better place, with her beloved husband and son, which even left him with a lump in his throat.
Derek knew that after the funeral the house would be full of townspeople paying their respects. There would be so many people for Jake and Linney to speak with that he decided not to add to the chaos. When everyone was gone, and the empty hours stretched out endlessly, he would be there for Linney. For now, he went next door to visit with his mother and wait until things got quieter. After all, he had to tell her that her wait for a grandchild might be coming to an end.
* * *
Finally,thought Linney. Finally, it was quiet. She’d made it through the day. There had been so many people to talk to, and after they had gone, the family had spent some time reminiscing together. But now that Rachael had taken the children home and Jake was getting into his car, she was alone.
She stood on the wraparound porch of her grandmother’s house as the storm that had threatened all day made its way across Silver Lake and the white caps on the waves grew bigger. Shivering, she pulled the finely knit grey shawl more tightly around her. It was the exact shade of the angry sky. Gran had made it years ago and Linney could almost hear the clicking of her steel knitting needles. It seemed appropriate, she thought, that the sky was angry. She was too. The lake, usually a source of peace and calm, was anything but that today.
She waved as Jake backed his car out of the driveway and Linney felt the first raindrops whip into her face as she walked around the porch and opened the door. She stepped inside the house, surveying the canapes and empty glasses littered around. She kicked off her high-heeled black shoes and walked silently through the front room in stocking feet, drying the rain from her glasses with the edge of the shawl as she went. The mess could wait.
Linney took the ornate key off the shelf and looked at the arched interior door it belonged to. Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the blue door. Slowly, as if each step was more painful than the last, Linney made her way up the circular staircase to the study. As the old family story went, her grandfather had added it onto the cozy little house when their son—Linney’s father—was small. The front half of the rounded room facing the lake was all windows, with a built-in desk and cabinets in front of them. The back was lined with her grandfather’s handmade bookshelves and filled with favourite books. Linney ran her fingers along the spines and pulled one out at random.
Curling up in the familiar battered burnished leather chair that gave her an almost 180-degree view of the lake in front and the woods to one side, Linney opened the book and tried to read. The wind was getting stronger and she could hear tree branches creak and moan as they moved against each other. It was as if they were crying. She shut the book and looked up as the rain came thrashing against the window. It seemed all the elements had come together to mourn as they buried her grandmother today.
Linney wished she could cry. She felt like she had an elephant on her chest. She’d screamed. She’d stomped. She’d railed. But she hadn’t been able to cry.
* * *
Derek heardthe last car drive away, and he looked across the lawn just in time to see the rain start, and Linney close the door behind her. He checked his watch and decided to give her half an hour.
Thirty minutes later, he kissed his mother goodbye. The storm was in full force by then, the rain coming almost sideways off the lake. Derek knew his umbrella would be no match for the weather so he put on a baseball cap, pulled the collar of his trench coat high on his neck and ran quickly the short distance between the houses.
He pulled open the screen door and rapped on the solid wood door behind it. There was no response. He turned the handle. It was open, as always. “Linney?” he called. “It’s Derek.”
Nothing.
Derek took off his wet hat and shoes and peeled off his dripping coat, hanging it over a dining room chair. He saw Linney’s discarded heels. He took a few steps and called again. Getting worried, he went further into the house. And that’s when he noticed the blue door. In all the time he’d spent in this house, he had never seen it open. Linney had always spoken of her Gran’s private space in reverent tones. He started up the steps. “Linney?” he called again. “Are you up there?”
Derek climbed the tight circular stairs and when he reached the top, he found her standing in front of the window, clutching a book to her chest and rocking silently back and forth. She’d discarded her glasses, so he knew she was staring at nothing, and her face was as pale as it had been in the church. He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped. “Linney, I’ve been calling you. Are you alright?”
“I can’t cry, Derek,” she whispered, still staring out to the lake. “I keep trying, but I can’t cry. I should be able to cry for my grandmother. Jake did. But I can’t cry, Derek. Why can’t I cry for my gran?”
Derek put his arm around her shoulder and gently pulled her close. “It’s OK, Linney. I’m here. You’re safe.”
Linney jerked with a start as if realizing he was there for the first time. “Oh,” she said exhaling. She took one ragged breath in and another out. And another. Her eyes filled and her shoulders started to shake. Finally, release. She buried her head into Derek’s chest and clung to him as he guided them both to sit, sobbing in the comforting arms of her best friend.
* * *
“I always wonderedwhat was up here,” Derek said when Linney was finally spent and had wiped her tears.
“Remember when I got sick after falling through the ice on the creek? She showed this room to me way back then. And she let me write here. Then and whenever I wanted to. I wrote my first story right here on this chair. I knew right there and then that I wanted to write and tell stories for a living.”
“I remember that,” he said, smiling at the memory. “You were what—seven? You were so proud of that story when you came back to school. And you let me read it!” Derek stood up and held out his hands to her. “Have you eaten today?”
Linney’s stomach chose that moment to growl.
“I guess that answers the question,” she said, putting her cold hands in his warm ones. “Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I ate. I haven’t been hungry.”
“Well, clearly your body is trying to remind you,” said Derek gently. “Mum says people have been dropping off casseroles all week. Come downstairs and let’s find one.”
He turned on the oven and pulled a glass dish out of the fridge. It was wrapped in foil with a strip of masking tape across the middle marked “roasted vegetable ziti” in black marker. While they were waiting for it to heat, he made some cocoa. “This always cheered you up when we were kids,” he said. He lay a fire in the living room fireplace and lit it, cheering up the room a bit as the storm continued to rail outside. Derek busied himself, clearing the remains of the reception. Linney sat at the kitchen breakfast bar sipping her cocoa, staring into space.
The oven beeped. Derek pulled the casserole out and let it sit for a minute while he chopped up some lettuce and tomatoes for a salad. Linney picked at the meal robotically, not tasting it. Once he was satisfied that she had eaten enough, Derek poured some whiskey—just a bit—into her remaining cocoa. “This should help,” he said, rubbing her shoulders.
He washed up the dishes and joined Linney in front of the fire. Her phone started to buzz. Jake was home now and checking in to make sure she was alright. She closed her eyes. Answering him seemed like a huge effort.
“Tell him I’m here with you,” Derek said.
Linney nodded. She sent the message and turned the ringer off. They sat for a while, saying nothing.
“Now what?” she asked. “What do I do now?
“Tonight you sleep, my friend,” said Derek. “We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”
“Will you stay? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”