AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Grandmother comes up beside us.
“Owen, there are eight of us going to Trolley Farms today,” she tells me. “Instead of taking two vehicles, would you drive your van?”
Even with sunglasses on, Tori’s eyes visibly widen. “Youbrought thevanparked out front? Are you married with eight kids and didn’t tell me?”
I elbow her gently. “You should be flattered. I named the van after you. The Chevrolet Tori.”
“You could have at least gotten a Mercedes-Benz if you were going to bestow my name on the thing. Ecclestons should refuse a Chevrolet on principle alone.”
Which is why I don’t consider myself an Eccleston. “I was more concerned at the time about not spending the night in the airport.”
She smirks. “They have hotels nearby.”
Ten minutes later, I’m behind the wheel with Grandmother in the passenger seat. Mom and Miles sit in the middle seat having a conversation that puts huge smiles on both of their faces. Brady’s in the seat behind them with his book.
In the very back, Layla, Tori, and Sadie sit. Getting Sadie’s booster seat back there wasn’t easy, but it was worth it to hear her giggle as I go over bumps at a speed higher than the recommended limit. Even Tori is smiling as she bounces around.
Trolley farms is thirty minutes away. As we exit York, Grandmother asks, “Tell me about this landscaping you do. Are you enjoying it?”
Only now do I realize I’ve made a fatal error.
I’m trapped up front with Grandmother and no escape. No one is nearby to act as a buffer. She can ask me anything she wants, and I have to answer. Anything less than absolute truth feels dishonest, and I can’t lie to my grandmother.
“Grandmother, landscaping is not all that exciting.”
“Call me Granny. I’ve never liked how formal grandmother sounds.”
“Granny?” I can’t contain my shock. I have never thought of my grandmother as a granny. She’s far too imposing. Or at least, she was when I was a teenager. The last few days I’ve seen a softer side. Still,granny? “I can’t call you that.”
“Why not?”
Because she does not look like a nice, comforting granny. She looks like the queen of England.
“Well, um, okay.Granny.” The shape of the word feels wrong in my mouth.
Grannylaughs and that makes me smile. Yeah, the nickname will not work for either of us.
“Do you remember the first summer you stayed with us?” she asks. “You had a hard time falling asleep.”
I think back, but it doesn’t sound familiar. “No.”
“You and I watched old episodes ofMurder She Wrotetogether until you couldn’t keep your eyes open.”
Now that she mentionsMurder She Wrote, I do remember. Over the years, the memories had faded until it felt like a dream, but now it comes back in a flash. That first year, I was homesick. If I stayed in bed I cried, so I began exploring the house while everyone else was asleep.
One night she caught me in the kitchen eating pie at midnight. I was sure I would be punished. She was imposing and … old. Instead, she cut herself a slice and joined me. We talked about my family and school, then went up to her room where we watched Angela Lansbury solve mysteries. I was vocal about how stupid I found the show. Grandmother offered to watch something else, but I could tell she was enjoying herself, so I declined. I fell asleep in her room, but woke up in my own.
It became our tradition a few nights a week, while everyone else slept, to eat dessert while watchingMurder She Wrote. How could I have forgotten? It was one of my favorite things about that summer.
“I remember,” I say.
“The second summer I went down to the kitchen every night for weeks, but you never met me there. You had better things to do with your time, which I completely understood. Charles was an exacting taskmaster, but you were up to thechallenge. I know the boy Owen, but I would like to know the man you’ve become.”
I have never felt so awful. That second summer, I thought about meeting up with Grandmother, but I knew if Grandfather found out I was wasting time watching murder mysteries he’d be disappointed. I didn’t think she cared. At least, she said nothing. But even at such a young age, I understood Grandmother was different at night, just the two of us, than during the day. I should have sought her out.
As I look back on the time I spent in Maine as a teenager, I realize for the first time Grandmother was lonely. It makes me reevaluate my thoughts about her. I escaped Grandfather eight years ago, but she never did. I’ve been lumping her in with the rest of the family, but that hasn’t been fair to either of us.
“I’m sorry I didn’t find you that second summer.”
