Chapter Four #2
His eyes grew wide and he laughed. “Anything but that.” I frowned and his laugh deepened. “I’m just sassing you. What do you want to know?”
“Evanthe was Mamaw’s best friend and Mama’s godmother, but I barely know her. Why’s that?”
He scratched his chin. “I reckon there are a few reasons. One, your mamaw’s been gone a long time now or she’d probably have talked your ear off about Evanthe.
They were thick as thieves, those two, ever since they were little bitty things.
Except, of course, after Evanthe’s husband passed. He was a good man, that Dale.”
Mamaw had once told me that Evanthe had been gutted by the sudden loss of her husband and had turned into a shell of who she once was. She’d taken a leave of absence from the library. Cut herself off from everyone and everything—even Mamaw. She’d wanted only to grieve in private.
Evanthe had still been lost in her bereavement when Mamaw received her terminal diagnosis, barely six months later.
Everyone had expected Evanthe to come out of her sheltered mourning, but she didn’t.
She dug in deeper, and speculation ran high that it was a protective measure.
To save herself from experiencing more heart-wrenching grief.
It wasn’t until the very last week of Mamaw’s life that Evanthe finally showed up at the door. Just in time to say goodbye.
I tried not to think of that time often. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye. In fact, we’d almost missed the funeral.
I’d been sixteen at the time, and my parents and I had been in Tanzania, deep in the Serengeti on a months-long excursion, with no outside contact to the world abroad. By the time we were able to check in again, we learned that Mamaw had only days left.
Papaw put his regular glasses back on and said, “Two, after your mama set off on her travels, I know Evanthe tried to keep in touch, but your mama isn’t one to check in very often, is she?”
I shook my head. I was lucky if I talked to her once a month. It was probably the same for Papaw. She was just always so busy, traveling, writing, doing. My father, too. They were a match made in heaven.
“Three,” he said, “Evanthe has always been a bit aloof. She’s a private person is all, and hardly lets anyone in. After Dale and your mamaw passed so close together, it’s like she closed up the doors to her heart, nailed them shut.”
Which was why I didn’t take her coldness personally. But oh, how I’d like to get her to open up again and maybe let me into her world. I wanted to know the Evanthe my mamaw had loved so dearly.
Papaw’s eyes darkened. “You’re not having issues with her, are you?”
“No, nothing like that,” I said. “It’s just that—” I cut myself off as a crackly sound filtered through the room.
Definitely scratching.
“The wind, eh?” Papaw said, raising one bushy, self-satisfied eyebrow.
“No need to gloat.” I scooted around the etching press—I’d called it a printing press when I first saw it and had been quickly corrected by my grandfather—and headed for one of the front windows. I looked outside, searching for what might’ve caused the sound, but only saw the sway of hanging ferns.
“Argh! Dagummit!” Papaw cried out behind me.
Startled, I spun around. He was bent over, a hand pushed against his lower back. I rushed to his side. “What’s wrong?”
His face twisted in pain. “Stood up too dang fast.”
A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. He made like he was going to sit back down but froze up again after only descending an inch or two.
“Has this happened before?” I held his arm as panic took flight in my chest. Worry for him. And worry for me, too, though I hated to admit it, because it felt all kinds of selfish. I’d quickly become dependent on him and his help to get through the day.
“A time or two,” he said through clenched teeth. “It’s just a spasm. It’ll pass.”
The scratching intensified.
Footsteps pounded on the stairs and Katy practically bounced into the dining room. “I hear scratching! Do you think it’s another bat?”
The enthusiasm in her voice was unmistakable.
I blamed my grandfather for that. Field biologists never really retired, though he’d stopped teaching at the local college nearly ten years ago.
When we’d found the brown bat in the house a month ago, he’d gloved up and carefully captured the creature and taught Katy all about it.
While she soaked up every second of the lesson, I stood a good distance back, questioning my life choices.
The following week, they’d constructed a bat house, which was now attached to one of the trees in the backyard. Sometimes at night, the two of them sat outside and watched the nighttime comings and goings.
Mercy.
Katy stopped in her tracks. “What happened to Papaw?”
“I’ve done thrown out my back, sprout,” he said.
“Did you stand up too fast?” She hurried over to take his other arm.
“Indeed, I did.”
She tsked, as if she’d warned him of the possibility a thousand times.
“Let’s get you to the couch,” I suggested.
As Katy helped me inch Papaw toward the living room, my brain was whirling. Papaw was supposed to take Katy to camp—and pick her up. Right now, there was no way he’d be able to do that. He could barely stand. Let alone drive.
He held his breath, his cheeks puffing out, as we eased him onto the sofa. Once he was settled, I put a throw pillow behind his back for a little more support.
When Mary Joy started to fuss, Katy darted over to the playpen to chat with her through the mesh. Soon Mary Joy was squealing with delight, her small voice soaring to the ceiling and floating there like a happy cloud.
I checked my watch, and my stomach dropped. I glanced between Papaw and Katy and Mary Joy and made a snap decision. Asking for help had never been my strong suit, but I knew when I was in over my head. I reached for my phone.
“Who’re you calling?” Papaw asked, frowning at me.
“I’m not sure yet.”
I ruled out Aunt Maeve straightaway. She’d already headed off to work—after stopping by here first for a quick cup of coffee, as she did almost every morning.
“Why’re you calling anyone?” Papaw asked with a scowl.
“To make sure you get to the doctor and Katy gets to camp. I need to get to work or I’m going to be late.”
“Pshaw. I’m fine. You get goin’.” He braced his hands on the seat cushion and tried to lift himself up. He didn’t so much as budge an inch. “Just give me a minute.”
Katy ran to help him, but it was of no use.
I snapped my fingers. “I’m sure Vera will be able to lend a hand. She’s the helpful type.”
“No, thanks,” he said, his voice tinged with alarm.
Katy glanced my way with a knowing smile.
Years ago, Vera had asked Papaw to help her fix a leaky sink, and ever since he’d been convinced that she had a crush on him and was just waiting for the right time to pounce.
I wasn’t sure why he was so disturbed by the idea, because she was a lovely woman, but figured it had something to do with the fact that he’d been single a long time now and had maybe grown used to being alone. “I don’t think we have a choice.”
“What about Juliet, Mama?” Katy asked.
“Yes! Juliet! Great idea! We can ask her,” Papaw added quickly, his voice now high and hopeful.
“Ask me what?” Juliet said, stepping into the living room from the hallway.
I hadn’t heard her come down the stairs, which usually squeaked at every step. She was dressed in blue shorts and a white T-shirt, and her long, light brown hair was pulled back in a French braid.
In one long drawn-out breath, Katy said, “Papaw’s done hurt his back and needs to go to the doctor, and Mama is late for work, and I need to go to camp, and Aunt Maeve is at work, and Miss Vera scares Papaw!” She gulped air and added, “Can you help us?”
Gritting my teeth, I glanced at my daughter. Sometimes she overshared. I needed to help her work on that.
“I wouldn’t say scare,” Papaw mumbled.
“Your back?” Juliet said, rushing over to him. “A spasm?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He leaned forward and showed her where it hurt. “Same place as always.”
“Do you usually take muscle relaxers when it happens?” Concern pulled her eyebrows down low. When he nodded, she added, “Do you have any on hand?”
“I don’t believe so. Best we put in a call to Doc Cohen when his office opens at nine.”
We all looked at the clock that hung above the mantel. It was five till nine. Even if I drove to work instead of walked, I was going to be cutting it close.
“Hopefully you can get in today to see him,” Juliet said. “Until then, a heating pad and acetaminophen might help ease the pain a little.”
“You can use my lamb!” Katy offered, running for the stairs.
Her lamb was one of those stuffed animal heating pads that was absolutely adorable and worked wonders on upset tummies. I found it terribly sweet that she was offering it to Papaw.
When Mary Joy whimpered, I walked over to the playpen, picked her up. She settled, happy in my arms. As I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, she buried her face in the soft spot under my collarbone and rubbed it back and forth against my blouse. Her sign that she was tired and ready for a nap.
Juliet stood up. “I’m happy to help out.” She glanced at me. “If it’s okay with you, Tallulah.”
Katy sailed down the stairs and down the hallway, skipping into the kitchen. At the microwave, she stood on tiptoes and put the lamb inside. It felt all kinds of wrong to see it spinning around on the turntable.
Mary Joy was nodding off, warm and cozy in my arms, and I glanced at the clock again, willing time to stop for a second.
“Maybe it’s best if I call off today,” I said, hating the idea of it. But sometimes life threw wrenches into perfectly crafted schedules.
The microwave beeped, and a second later, Katy was helping tuck her lamb behind Papaw. He sighed, then said to me, “No need to do that. We’ve got things cover—”
It was his turn to be cut off by a scratching noise.
“That’s too loud for a bat,” Katy said, sounding disappointed.
“I’m of a mind to agree with you, sprout,” Papaw said, his tone matching Katy’s.
“A bat?” Juliet’s concerned gaze skipped from face to face.
“They’re so cute with their big ears!” Katy used her hands to mimic bat ears. “And they eat lots of bugs. Lots and lots. And Papaw says they use echoes as a way of telling how far away something is. Isn’t that cool?”
“Very cool,” Juliet said with a tight smile that was clearly a grimace if you looked closely.
Then came a bark.
We all turned toward the noise, and Katy quickly sprang into action, bolting down the hallway and throwing open the front door. A filthy brown puppy bounded inside, tracking mud everywhere its oversized paws touched.
Katy let out a giddy scream.
“What in tarnation!” Papaw cried, then moaned as he tried once again to stand.
Mary Joy let out a startled cry, then burst into tears. I bounced and soothed her as the dark blur raced around the kitchen island before running and jumping onto the couch to lick Papaw’s face.
Right then and there, I decided I might lose my mind today.
I glanced at Juliet, whose green eyes had gone wide.
And I suddenly realized that this chaos might help her realize she’d be better off staying somewhere else, which would then give me back the tiny semblance of a comfort zone I still possessed.
“If your offer is still open,” I said to her, “I accept.” I smiled as sweetly as I could manage. “Obviously, we can use all the help we can get.”