Chapter 12
twelve
The thick, heavy clouds hovering over the mountain pass looked foreboding, but Olivia wasn’t concerned.
She’d grown up on the snowy side of the Cascades and was used to driving in this climate, and fortunately she’d already had her winter tires put on.
In fact, she was hoping for snow this Christmas.
So it wasn’t weather worries that were gnawing at her right now.
She turned off the Christmas music she’d put on to cheer her up during the drive home and allowed herself to sort out her thoughts.
First and foremost, she told herself, she should be concerned for her mother. According to Dad, she’d taken a bad fall and now had a fractured hip. He hadn’t gone into the details of how it happened, and hadn’t asked her to come earlier than planned, but she could hear the strain in his voice.
“It’s not as serious as it sounds,” he’d reassured her.
“According to the ER doctor, hips heal slowly, but with physical therapy they do get better. Mostly she needs to avoid putting pressure on it for a month or so to allow it to heal, but apparently she also needs to be somewhat mobile to heal it.”
“No pressure and somewhat mobile. What does that mean?”
“It means she’ll be sedentary most of the time and using a walker to get around.”
“Is she in pain?”
“She’s got meds.”
“Is she still in the hospital?”
“Just overnight. She can come home tomorrow.”
“And then what?” Olivia knew her grandmother was there but wasn’t sure how Mom would handle being nursed by her.
“I really don’t know, honey. Anyway, I need to go back and check on her.” He cleared his throat. “She’s, uh, having a bad hair day.” Then he’d sort of laughed.
Olivia wasn’t sure what to make of that, but she’d decided then and there that her holiday vacation would start in the morning.
She wasn’t sure how this new development would affect their intervention plan.
Maybe a broken hip was God’s way of intervening.
But she knew she wouldn’t find out until she got there and assessed the situation.
Mom’s hip wasn’t the only problem troubling her, but the other thing was too hard to think about.
Every time she replayed the idea of Malcolm and Sadie spending the weekend at some cozy beach cabin hideaway, she wanted to scream .
. . or just cry. And so she was refusing to think about it.
At least, that’s what she told herself. But all the while it kept niggling at her.
Like a little tormentor determined to get her attention.
“Just get over it! Move on!” she scolded herself. “Malcolm obviously has.”
As simple as that sounded, she knew it wasn’t easy.
And since she still had almost an hour before she’d be home, she decided to just get it out of her system, walking through every memory that seemed to haunt her, until she reached the last conversation they’d had.
And sure, he’d explained how he’d taken on double shifts in order to get good holiday vacation time.
But had he really done that to get some vacation time at the beach with Sadie?
Or was she just getting paranoid about nothing?
She tried to remember the tone of his voice in that last brief conversation.
She wanted to convince herself it was apologetic, but in hindsight, it had been rather abrupt.
She’d attributed it to him being overworked and tired.
But maybe it was something more. Maybe he was trying to send her the subtle message he was done with her.
And why shouldn’t he be? After all, their families were like the Hatfields and McCoys, or the Capulets and Montagues, or whatever .
. . and to be fair, it wasn’t Malcolm’s family that was to blame.
It was all her mom. But it was hard to be mad at Mom when she was suffering so.
Still, it probably wouldn’t improve neighborly relations between the Bradshaws and McEntires.
Like a dog chasing its tail, Olivia continued to grapple with these conflicting thoughts as she pulled into her parents’ driveway.
“Let it go,” she told herself as she got out of her car and stretched.
It was time to be a good daughter and focus on her mother.
As she tugged her bag out of her trunk, Dad appeared.
“Let me take that,” he told her. “You go in and see your mom. She’s looking forward to it.”
“Okay.” She kissed his cheek.
“And please don’t laugh at her.”
“Laugh?” She blinked. “Why on earth would I laugh at her?”
His expression was hard to read. “You’ll see.”
Even before Olivia went inside, she could see the influence of her wacky grandmother, from the bright-colored Snoopy and Red Baron wreath on the glossy black door to the mat on the front step that said “Welcome Gnome” and was adorned with little red and green gnomes.
Probably a good thing her mom wasn’t mobile yet.
The inside of the house was even worse. Or better, depending on how you looked at it.
Where her mother’s taste was cool elegance, Grandma Lulu preferred goofiness and silliness.
She was a woman who loved to laugh and make things light and merry—which went well with Christmas.
In fact, in many ways she was very much like the neighbors Olivia’s mother detested.
Lulu’s touch included multicolored lights and flashy garlands draped all about Mom’s angel display to make it even brighter.
The tree that was still partially decorated with her mom’s crystal was now overwhelmed with funny tacky ornaments.
As she set her bag on a chair, Olivia wondered where on earth Lulu had managed to gather all these weird trinkets.
“Hello, hello.” Lulu emerged from the kitchen wearing a Santa hat and a twinkling necklace that looked like it was made out of mini Christmas tree lights. “My darling granddaughter has arrived! Merry Christmas, sweetie pie.” She embraced Olivia in a big bear hug. “And not a minute too soon.”
“How’s it going?” Olivia asked. “How’s Mom?”
“She’s only been home about an hour, but she’s mad as a wet hen.”
“Uh-huh?” Olivia peeled off her coat.
“She’s trying not to show it.” Lulu lowered her voice as she motioned her into the kitchen. “But if her scowl gets any darker, it’ll probably be so deeply carved into her face that her Botox won’t even help.”
Olivia’s eyes opened wide as she took in the kitchen. She’d never seen it like this before. Cluttered counters, dirty dishes in the sink, miscellaneous groceries everywhere, cabinet doors hanging open, and more gaudy Christmas garlands and interesting items spread all about.
“I see you’ve been decorating for Christmas.” Olivia flipped the Santa sled and reindeer mobile suspended between the brass pendant lights over the breakfast bar. “Did you bring all these things from San Diego?”
“No, no.” Lulu waved her hand. “Your dad took me to the dollar store to shop yesterday. My goodness, it’s a treasure trove there.
I brought home bags and bags. Of course, that was before we knew your poor mother had fallen and hurt herself.
But I stayed up late last night decorating.
I thought it would cheer her up when she got home this morning. ”
“And did it?” Olivia could just imagine!
“Well, she looked surprised. She didn’t say much as your dad wheeled her in. She’s got a wheelchair, you know. And I guess the trip home must’ve worn her out. She just wanted to go to her room to rest. Probably due to the pain meds.”
“Uh-huh.” Olivia wanted to add that the pain meds were probably helping her mom not totally flip out over the state of her home. “Should I go check on her? Or do you think she’s asleep? What can I do to help?”
“She might be asleep. I was just fixing her a lunch tray since she hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and according to your dad, she barely touched that.” Lulu spread a Santa placemat on a tray. “Maybe you can take it to her.”
“Okay.” Olivia watched as Lulu set a greasy-looking grilled cheese sandwich on a plate, along with a small dish of cottage cheese.
Then, using canned whipped cream, she created a small white mound on what looked like cocoa steaming in a Rudolph mug.
Probably another dollar store find. “That’s a lot of dairy. ”
“Calcium is important for healing bones.”
Olivia noticed the jug of whole milk still on the counter. “Mom usually has nonfat milk. I mean, when she has it, which is rarely.”
“Pishposh.” Lulu wrinkled her nose. “Everyone knows that whole milk products are better for us.” She folded a bright red-and-green paper napkin to set on the tray and smiled. “Ta-da, there you go. Want to take that in to her? She’ll be so happy to see you.”
Olivia nodded as she picked up the tray but felt fairly certain her mother would not be happy to see this lunch.
“Try to get her to eat,” Lulu urged. “I’ve noticed she eats like a bird, and it’s obvious that she’s underweight. That hip isn’t going to heal without good nutrition and calcium. And, by the way, don’t laugh at her.”
Olivia frowned. “Why is everyone saying that?”
Lulu just tossed back her head and let out a hearty chuckle. “Oh, you’ll see.” She patted Olivia on the back. “You’ll see.”
Olivia was speechless when she saw her mother’s bright blue hair poking out beneath a loosely tied cream-colored scarf.
“Mom,” she said as she set the tray on the bedside table. “I’m so sorry about your hip.” She leaned down to kiss her cool, pale cheek. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, Olivia, I’m so glad you came.” And Jane began to cry.
Olivia pulled a nearby chair closer, sitting down to be at her mom’s level. “Are you in pain?”
“I’ve never felt more miserable in my life. Even giving birth to you was better than this.”
“Really?” Olivia blinked. She’d heard the horror story of her mom giving birth . . . and why she’d decided one child was plenty.
“I feel like I’m being punished.” Jane reached for a Kleenex.
Olivia put a hand on her mom’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mom. What can I do to help?”
“Get your grandmother out of my house?” Jane narrowed her eyes. “I can’t stand it, Olivia. She’s driving me absolutely nuts.”
Olivia didn’t know what to say, so she changed topics by asking how Mom hurt her hip, listening as she blubbered a nonsensical story about a spider and how she was putting blue on her hair and fell down.
“I was stuck on the bathroom floor for hours,” she finally said, pausing to blow her nose.
Olivia touched a strand of periwinkle hair. “And that rinse was on too long . . . and turned your hair, uh, blue?”
“Yes.” Jane looked up with red-rimmed eyes. “Is there anything you can do about it?”
“I don’t know anything about hair dyes, Mom. But I’m guessing it’s going to be like that for a while.” She pulled out her phone. “Want me to do some research to see if there’s a remedy? Or I could call your hairdresser and ask her.”
“Yes, yes,” Jane said eagerly. “Please, do something.”
“I’ll make you a deal.” Olivia put the tray on Mom’s lap. “You try and eat something, and I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Ugh. This looks repulsive.”
“I don’t know.” Olivia picked up a sandwich half and sniffed it. “You used to make these for me when I was little. Remember? Along with tomato soup. It was one of my favorite snowy day lunches.” She grinned. “Want me to taste it to make sure it’s alright?”
Jane just shrugged, watching with arched brows as Olivia took a bite.
“Oh, Mom, it’s yummy. I can tell there are several kinds of cheese in here. You have to try it. I’m going to ask Grandma to make me one just like it.”
Jane made a humph sound but picked up the other half. “Probably a thousand calories in it.” But she took a tiny bite and slowly chewed.
Meanwhile, Olivia picked up her phone and began to hunt for remedies for overly dyed hair. Unfortunately, it wasn’t looking too promising, but as her mom slowly ate, she read the suggestions aloud. Everything from olive oil to salt and vinegar.
“Sounds like salad,” she joked. “And this one says wash over and over with strong dish soap and follow with lots of conditioner.” She glanced at her sad-looking mom. “It’ll be hard to do much of this with you incapacitated like you are, but I can try to help you if you want.”
Jane nodded eagerly as she chewed. “Yes, please do. I can’t bear to look like this. It’s bad enough to be convalescing at Christmas, but blue hair too. Throw Lulu into the mix and, really, Olivia, I feel like I’m in some kind of personal prison.”
Olivia gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before taking a better peek at the mop of blue beneath the silk scarf. It really did look hopeless. But if this was God’s way of intervening, it was certainly more effective than anything they could’ve cooked up.
“You finish your lunch, and I’ll try to figure out a way to help with your hair.
” She looked at the nearby wheelchair, wondering how easy it would be to get that to the shower, where she could lean her mom’s head back and do the rinsing with the handheld shower head.
“You could always just cut it,” she suggested.
“Or wear a stocking hat. Or dye it black.”
“Or shave it all off and wear a wig,” Jane said glumly. “But where do you find a good wig a week before Christmas?”
“A lot of people dye their hair bright colors just for the fun of it.” Olivia had never personally wanted lime green or purple hair, but it looked good on other people. “You can be very avant-garde and chic for your age group.”
“Please.” Jane rolled her eyes. “Let’s try some of those remedies you just read to me. And in the meantime, please refrain from calling me Mama Smurf like the ER nurse did yesterday.”
Olivia couldn’t help but giggle at that one and, to her surprise, her mother almost smiled.
“Well, we’ll just make the best of it.” She tried to sound positive.
“After we try those remedies, I think you should just style as usual and maybe it’ll grow on you.
Blue has always been your favorite color. ”
Jane’s response was a guttural moan. But Olivia thought her mother, now sporting Smurf-blue hair, might be perfectly set up to stop taking life so seriously. After all, Christmas was supposed to be a season of merrymaking, goodness, and joy—and heaven knew they all needed to laugh more.