Chapter Twenty-Nine Lillian
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lillian
“What do we want?” Della shouted through her megaphone.
“Our ADA,” I answered with the rest of the marching crowd pushing our way along Pennsylvania Avenue toward the Capitol.
“When do we want it?”
“Now.”
The chants continued, like an engine motivating us forward for over an hour as hundreds of people processed toward the Capitol Building, carrying signs declaring . . .
Asking Did Not Work
Equal Access for All
Journalists followed along the outskirts, some even weaving into the crowd, documenting our push for change. Or so we hoped. It could only help our cause to have them capturing us in pictures and videos as we rolled past the National Mall and the Tidal Basin. Past monuments.
Past history.
The air filled with the crackle of hope and frustration. And yes, anger. But there was organization as well, which brought structure to the moment. Momentum grew with each step. The Capitol loomed in the distance, as if on a pedestal with 365 steps leading to the Rotunda.
As far as protest marches went, I’d seen larger on television and in textbooks. But the power of this moment moved me all the same. There was an energy in the air, ignited from being seen as citizens due the same rights as others. Citizens of all ages.
The twins walked on either side of Rosalynn’s chair, their teenage voices a high-pitched chorus of cheers.
The next generation taking up the cause.
The veteran in camo still kept pace ahead of us, his prosthetic leg just barely visible as he walked with his service dog, the German shepherd in its bright yellow vest. A lady wearing a Proud Auntie shirt hooked an arm with a woman wearing sunglasses and using a white cane.
All of us shared a common goal. We needed our country’s leaders to understand we were out of patience with their delays.
This bill had languished for far too long.
We were tired of the feet-dragging. Of complaints about the cost of implementing the changes we asked for and nitpicking over what qualified as a disability.
The time had come to sign the proposed legislation into law. To bring equality. Most of us even had a copy of the Declaration of Independence rolled up, stashed in our pockets.
Grady walked ahead of me, pushing Rosalynn’s wheelchair. His shoulders were broad and tempting, reminding me of how easy it had been to share that sleeping bag the night before.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts. There wasn’t time to sort through my complicated feelings for Grady right now. Today was all about Rosalynn.
We were near the front of the crowd, so by the time we reached the Capitol, we had a moment to catch our breath until the others joined us, the crowd growing.
One speaker after another stepped up to the microphones, motivational, powerful.
A pro-ADA congressman even spoke while also communicating with American Sign Language.
“Mom,” Rosalynn said, spinning her chair with one hand, her other arm outstretched overhead in pirouette, her face bathed in joy, “this has been the best time of my life since . . .” Her smile wobbled.
I didn’t have to ask. The day she’d landed the role of Clara in The Nutcracker. And even as I knew I still would have said no to the trip, I resented my mother for being the one to give the experience to Rosalynn.
It seemed good, though, to see the pink in her cheeks from the excitement and the light in her eyes that had been missing for so long.
She took my hand. “Could we please stay an extra day? It’s not like we have to rush to catch a plane. Nana Della planned for us to ride back with you. It would mean so much to me to stay for another day. Not just to protest, but to listen to the speeches.”
My heart sank at her request.
Yet again, I wished we could stay longer and soak in every single minute. Except sticking around for even one extra day would stretch our budget to the limit, plus the extra time off work.
And if we couldn’t stay, Grady and Della would have to tell her.
Was it so wrong of me, though, that I didn’t want to be the one to explain the practical realities? I already had to be the bad guy far too often, while Grady was her superman hero. As for my mother? Well, this trip alone proved the lengths she would go to make Rosalynn’s wishes come true.
“Maybe,” I prevaricated, watching the crowd go around us as more and more protestors arrived at the base of the Capitol steps. “I need to discuss plans with your nana and your dad.”
Every superstitious bone in my body cried out to wrap this up and head back to our protective cocoon at home, every inch of our house adapted for her safety.
Here? There were so many barriers I’d never noticed before.
Not the least of which was that Rosalynn wouldn’t even be able to enter the Capitol unless her father carried her up those 365 steps.
Rosalynn grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes and leave you to it.” She glanced up at her father with hero worship. “Dad, did you see the guy with the service dog? I have so many questions for him. Will you come with me?”
My daughter knew her father would be a softie on the service dog subject. I might as well surrender and go shopping for a food bowl and a better vacuum.
I rested a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe the gentleman doesn’t want to be bothered.”
“Mother, I’ll be polite,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like I’m disturbing him in a restaurant. This is what we’re here for. To shine a light and answer questions.”
“Fine.” I raised my hands in surrender.
Grady gripped the handles and wheeled her chair toward the veteran sitting on the bottom step of the Capitol and placing a water bowl on the concrete before pouring a drink for his dog.
My mother slid an arm around my waist and drew me to her side. “Now aren’t you glad we’re here? I wouldn’t have missed this for all the benne wafers in Charleston.”
Yes, this day had been special. But did my mother really think I could let her off the hook so easily, just because I didn’t want to make a scene that would distract from the mission at hand? Right now, my world felt more than a little out of control, with Della and Grady taking my choices away.
“Mama, I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for us,” I said.
“This day is magical. But when we get home, we’re gonna need to agree on some ground rules.
Your job—as a grandmother—is to spoil her and tell her she’s the most special person in the world.
My job is to keep her safe and teach her about the dangers in the world. ”
Della quirked an eyebrow. “So that she’s ready to live her own life one day.”
That made my throat grow tight. “Sure. Right.”
Sniffing, my mother hitched her hands on her hips. “I’m certain there’s some book out there about the new and improved parenting techniques. I guess I’ll need to make a trip to the library to check it out.”
“Mama, I’m not trying to offend you.”
“I’m not insulted. I’m trying to tell you that we parents can teach all day long, but experience truly instructs a child. Wouldn’t you rather she stretch those wings while she’s still under the protection of your roof?”
“It would have been nice if we could have had this conversation before you put my daughter on a plane without asking me.”
“Fair point. I’ve admitted I overstepped.
Just as you’ll overstep with your grandchild someday.
I do understand how difficult it is giving up control.
” She shot a look at Rosalynn, who was enraptured with the veteran explaining about his service dog.
“So are we going to stay? Because I have enough money for an extra night in a hotel.”
Control slipped even further away. I gestured toward the crowd. “Given the size of our group, there probably won’t be available rooms—”
“No need to worry. Remember? I reserved two nights.”
Of course she had. So much for boundaries. “Mom . . .”
“What?” She splayed her hands. “I made the plan before we had our little conversation. Can’t we start those new rules next week?”
I surrendered. And likely not for the last time today as I saw the veteran pass Grady a flyer. “It’s not like you’ve left me much choice.”
She patted my cheek. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Mama.” And I meant it. Even when she drove me to the very brink of crazy, I never doubted how much we loved each other.
It just stung that Della was like a second mother to Rosalynn.
The fun mother—the one in the process of gathering the teens together and passing out tie-dyed headbands and wristbands.
My mother had that Pied Piper gift with kids.
I saw that even as young as three years old, riding behind her as she drove a school bus.
She would pipe music through and have sing-alongs, even popping the clutch like a deep bass beat.
Grady tucked up alongside me. I didn’t have to look to confirm it was him.
“Are you and Della okay?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said. Our bond was unbreakable. My gaze lingered on Rosalynn embracing the moment as she helped model and distribute Della’s tie-dyed headbands. “I guess it turned out all right in the end.”
“You’re a great parent, you know that.” He slid an arm around my shoulders, his forehead furrowing. “I’m just sorry I didn’t make enough money for you to stay home with her so we didn’t need Della’s help.”
There wasn’t an argument that would help his pride, so I just rested my head on his shoulder. “We’re both pedaling as fast as we can these days.”
“Not fast enough,” he said, his voice low and husky as his ribs vibrated against me.
“Thank you for this trip and for coming even though I know the time off worries you.”
“I do want to be here.” His gaze skimmed along the groups of people who felt like old friends after just one intense morning. “For you, yes, but for our Rosie.”
“Why didn’t you insist on bringing her along?” I wondered. “Even though I would have griped, you know I would have caved.”
His brown eyes deepened to a darker hue, his pupils widening with emotion. “Because I thought if we had some time alone together, then maybe I wouldn’t lose you.”
My mouth dried right up.
Such a simple, but loaded, statement. I couldn’t quite discern if he was speaking with regret, resignation.
Or if he thought there might still be hope.
A hope that stirred inside me as well, almost alien because of how long I’d spent painting porch ceilings blue and making sure empty rockers didn’t move. Especially this past year.
I touched his bristly jaw and wanted to linger—
“Is there a doctor here . . .” The shriek carried from the direction of the Capitol steps, where a woman knelt beside an older man slumping in a wheelchair. “Or a nurse or someone anywhere? My brother’s struggling to breathe. I think he’s having a stroke.”
Grady straightened, the tender expression on his face wiped away as he went on alert. “I’m a firefighter, with training in emergency medicine.”
The woman extended a trembling hand, waving him over. “Please help him.”
Grady knelt beside the man, speaking softly and taking his pulse. He slid into work mode, radiating a professionalism that calmed the family standing just behind him. I’d seen Grady at firehouse demonstrations for the public and schoolkids. But I’d never seen him literally on the job . . .
Other than the evening of Rosalynn’s accident.
The horror of that time crept over me, catching me unawares.
Which felt strange because there wasn’t a day I didn’t wake up with remembering.
But a memory, while gut-wrenching, was in the past. Seeing Grady tending to the man struggling for air made that event from a year ago seem so very present, as if I were viewing it through Grady’s eyes for the first time.
Especially after what he’d confided to me on this trip about his dreams of that day.
Standing, he pivoted toward me and the sun streamed over him, his expression unguarded for an instant.
I couldn’t miss his deep grief and felt it like an echoing blow.
Then his face closed off, neutral again.
Except in that brief, vulnerable moment, I realized how much wider the gulf between us had grown over this past year as he couldn’t quit the job that had begun tearing him apart all the more since the night of Rosalynn’s accident.
When he was the first to reach her when she fell off the stage.