Part 10 (2/2)
”I have work to do here.”
”There's nothing in the wall, Grand-Em. There's no ring except the one on your finger.”
”Are you suggesting I'm crazy?” she said softly.
”No, I-”
”You're going to put me away! You're going to let them take me!”
Frankie tried to keep her voice level. ”No. Never. This is your home.”
”I'm not going to get shut away like some insane person!”
With a violent lurch, Grand-Em shot to her feet but she got caught in the skirts of her dress and pitched forward at an alarming angle. She let out a cry and Frankie lunged forward, grabbing her just before her forehead made contact with a marble-topped bed stand. But instead of feeling saved, Grand-Em obviously a.s.sumed she'd been captured because she fought harder. Frankie was able to hold her so that she couldn't hurt herself, but took a lot of kicks in the s.h.i.+ns before the struggling finally stopped. When Grand-Em fell still, she let out a soft sob.
”I promise to be better. I just don't want to go,” she moaned. ”Please don't send me away. I am lost...even when I am home. What will happen if I am somewhere unknown?”
Frankie held her tightly, feeling the small body underneath the yards of old silk. ”I promise. I promise you won't have to go away. Please don't worry.”
Grand-Em put her hands to her face, as if trying to compose herself. She was wheezing raggedly, her chest moving in and out like a bird's.
”Let's sit down,” Frankie said. She helped Grand-Em up to the bed and eyed the phone on the stand, wondering where Joy was. At times like this, Frankie wished she had her sister's way with their grandmother. Maybe if Joy had been the one to walk in, she could have stopped Grand-Em without spurring an attack.
Frankie knelt down and regarded her grandmother with concern. Grand-Em was still shaking and gasping for air. It could have just been the remnants of the panic attack, but maybe it was the harbinger of something more dangerous.
”Are you having trouble breathing? Does your head hurt?”
Grand-Em looked down and a tear rolled down her hollow cheek.
”Shhh.” Frankie stroked her grandmother's white hair, smoothing the waves. ”Let's just catch our breath for a moment.”
When the shaking stopped, Frankie asked whether she was feeling better and got no response. Leaning forward, she put her face in the line of her grandmother's vision. ”How are you feeling?”
Grand-Em blinked and then narrowed her eyes. She reached out and touched Frankie's face. ”I know you. You're Frances. My granddaughter.”
Frankie grabbed the frail hand, pressing it urgently into her cheek. ”Yes, yes, I'm Frances.”
The brief periods of lucidity never lasted long, so what needed to be said had to be spoken fast and clearly. It had been over a year since the last time Grand-Em had recognized anyone. Even Joy.
”Grand-Em, listen to me. We're not going to send you away. Not ever. We love you. You're safe.” Frankie couldn't say it enough. ”You're safe. You will never end up in an inst.i.tution.”
Grand-Em's eyes were full of sorrow. ”But of course I shall. Someday you will have to send me away and you must know that it is okay. Every once in a while I remember who I was and that tells me how far gone I truly am.”
Frankie reached for the phone. She kept hold of her grandmother's eyes as if that could keep her tethered to reality long enough for Joy to get upstairs.
”Joy, come quickly. I'm in the Lincoln bedroom.”
”Joy is here? How lovely.” Grand-Em looked down at herself and then over at the hole. ”What a mess. Who could have done-oh, it was me, wasn't it.” Distress flared and then was resolved. ”I was looking for my ring. Because someone is getting married.”
Demented purpose started to replace the clarity and Frankie put herself right in her grandmother's face. ”Grand-Em. Look at me. Stay with me. Don't you go yet, do you hear me?”
Grand-Em laughed, a short burst of breath that left her lips in a smile. ”Your sister and I may look alike, but you and I, we share the same heart. We are both the fighting kind, aren't we? That was why I married your grandfather even though Father hated it. I married a gardener for love and I was never sorry.”
Joy burst through the door. ”What's wrong?”
Grand-Em clapped her hands triumphantly. ”She is getting married and needs my ring. Now, if I can just get back to what I was doing....”
Frankie could only shake her head as her sister took in the hole in the wall and all the plaster mess.
”When is your ceremony?” Grand-Em asked as Joy sat beside her.
”But I'm not getting married,” Joy said tenderly. ”Besides, what would Grand-dad think if someone else were to wear your ring? I don't think he'd like that at all.”
”No, not this one. The one Arthur Phillip Garrison gave to me in 1941....”
Frankie watched as their grandmother drifted back out into the lake of madness.
”She came out of it,” Frankie whispered to Joy. ”I didn't want you to miss the opportunity.”
Thank you, Joy mouthed while nodding at Grand-Em. ”Well, Arthur Garrison must have been handsome. Why don't we go to your room and change? I just finished ironing your pale yellow gown and I think it would be perfect for a sunny day like today, don't you?”
As her sister led Grand-Em out of the room, Frankie looked out a window and saw Mike Roy and that Graves man down by the lakesh.o.r.e. Mike was pointing up, behind the house, towards the mountain. Before she went to join them, she moved the dresser over next to the bed and put the lamp on top. It was a great way to cover the hole without having to pay someone to fix it.
An hour later, Frankie watched Mike and the Englishman disappear down the driveway. She really wished she could erase their whole visit and start all over again.When the screen door slapped shut behind her, she knew who it was without turning around.
”So who was that guy with the beard?” Nate walked up to her, a paper bag in his hands. His smile was big and easy, as if the whole kiss-on-the-ladder, spurned-date thing hadn't happened.
”A friend.” Because after all Mike Roy had done for her, he seemed more than a banker. ”Where are you headed?”
”Up the mountain for lunch. You want to join me?” He joggled the bag. ”Got enough for two in here.”
She opened her mouth to say no, but thought of the plumber in her office and the jungle of weeds in the garden. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with her thoughts because replaying the scene upstairs would be the inevitable result. Besides, it had been a long time since she'd been up the mountain and some physical exercise sounded like a good way to blow off steam.
Nate lowered his voice. ”And don't worry about the height phobia thing. That's only planes, balconies and bridges. Well, ladders, too, evidently. Otherwise, I'm one tough character.” He pounded his chest. ”All man.”
Frankie smiled up at him. ”Then come on, Tarzan. Let's. .h.i.t the trail.”
As they started out, she thought it was hard not to be impressed by the guy. In spite of his fear of heights, he'd managed to fix the gutter after all. Still, she hoped if he ended up channeling his inner handyman again, he'd keep to the ground.
Frankie led him down the driveway and across Route 22. The way up the mountain started with a rough road that had a bright orange ”No Trespa.s.sing” sign right next to it. It was hard to know whether the notice functioned as a deterrent or merely helped tourists find their way, but Frankie had never minded if people wanted to hike the trail.
”Can you drive all the way up?” Nate asked as they each settled into one of the grooves in the road.
”Only part way.”
The dark forest surrounded them, the trees a cool, protective s.h.i.+eld, the ferns and gra.s.ses a lovely green carpet. The air smelled like pine and earth and she felt the tension leave her body.
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