Tessa McDermid - Family Stories (7 page)

The retirement development was a mile away. The property had once been on the edge of Lincoln but with the resurgence of building in the community, Winter Oaks was now just another part of the sprawling east end.

She parked her bike, then went inside the main building. Tiny cottages dotted the property. One had been Frank and Marian's home when they'd first moved to the community. But after Marian's hip fracture four years earlier, the family had encouraged them to move into the residence lodge, where they would have resources at hand if needed.

"Hi, Hannah." The woman at the front desk gave her a big smile. "They're in the sunroom."

A long room opened onto the back lawn, which separated the more independent living quarters from the lodge. There were bright summer flowers along pathways wide enough for wheelchairs, with several benches tucked among large old oaks. Floor- to-ceiling windows brought the outdoors inside for those who couldn't go out or weren't in an adventurous mood. Little groups of people sat in the sunroom, a few with books or newspapers. Several were gathered around a piano, where one elderly man was playing what Hannah recognized as a musical show tune.

Her great-grandparents sat at the other end of the room, near a table that could be used for family suppers. A newspaper was open on Grandpa Frank's lap. His head was down, his glasses almost slipping from his nose, and Hannah suspected he'd fal en asleep.

Her impression was confirmed by G.G. "Don't wake him."

Marian's smile tightened a few of the wrinkles in her face. "He was reading me the most boring article about the city council's last meeting. Why he thinks I'd be interested in that..." She shook her head in loving exasperation.

Hannah pul ed a chair from the table and placed it next to G.G., careful not to wake Frank. "How long wil he sleep?" His neck was crooked toward his chest and she didn't want him to be stiff when he woke up.

"About ten minutes. He's been dropping off to sleep like this for the last few weeks. The doctor isn't worried, says it's due to age."

Hannah could hear the worry, though, in G.G.'s voice. And Grandpa Frank was ninety-six. "The staff here will keep track of him, G.G.Vou said yourself they're very responsible. And he could just be tired. Or he could've bored himself to sleep with that article."

She was rewarded by the soft chuckle that was one of her favorite memories. G.G. and Grandpa Frank had moved into the retirement vil age before Hannah was born. The short visits Hannah and her brother made to the complex were always ful of special treats, movies on the big-screen television and walks through the grounds.

"So, why are you here, Miss Hannah-banana? Not that we aren't happy to see you."

"I think I've outgrown my nickname," Hannah muttered.

G.G. gave another chuckle and patted Hannah's hand. The touch was light and fleeting, like that of a butterfly landing on skin. "Darling, once you have a nickname in this family, it sticks. Do you suppose anyone wil ever cal me anything besides G.G.? Even your mother uses it now."

Hannah grinned. She'd coined the nickname for her great- grandmother when she was little, trying to put her mouth around the longer name of Great-Grandma Marian. She'd recently learned to recognize her letters and when her mother showed her the name on a birthday card, Hannah had pointed out the two Gs. From then on, the great-grandchildren and soon the other relatives had started referring to Marian as G.G., distinguishing her from the other grandmothers in the family.

"Do you think you could just cal me Miss Hannah instead?" she asked hopeful y.

"I'll try. Now, I can see purpose written al over your face."

Hannah cleared her throat. If she didn't want Grandma Anne to ask questions about her whereabouts, she needed to finish her errand and get back quickly. "It's about your party."

G.G. sat back in her wheelchair, her fingers twisting the crocheted lap rug that protected her legs from the air-conditioning drafts. "What party?" Her smile was gone and her eyes were blinking rapidly behind her glasses.

Hannah frowned, worried by G.G.'s agitation. Frank stirred in his sleep, as if aware of his wife's discomfort.

"For your seventy- fifth wedding anniversary," Hannah said slowly.

"Who said we were having a party?" She leaned over to pluck at Frank's sleeve, her actions reminding Hannah of a flustered bird. "Frank?"

His eyes opened immediately. He leaned toward his wife, the newspaper sliding to the floor with a rustle.

"Marian, what's the matter?"

"Hannah's here." Marian's fingers continued to pluck at his sleeve. "She said we're having a party. You said we wouldn't have a party. You told the girls we wouldn't have a party."

Marian's voice had risen. Hannah glanced around the room but they were far enough from the others not to be attracting attention. Yet.

Frank took Marian's fingers in his hand. "Hush, it's al right." His eyes narrowed as he glared at Hannah.

"What's this about a party? Your grandmother didn't send you over here, did she?"

Hannah shook her head vigorously. "No, it was my idea, Grandpa. I found some pictures and things and thought you deserved a celebration."

"We don't need a party to remember we've been married seventy-five years." His voice was firmer than she'd heard in her last visits. He leaned forward until he could cradle Marian's stil - fluttering hands against his chest, their heads close.

"That's true, Grandpa. But it's just, wel —" Her voice trailed off.

"No party. See how it upsets your great-grandmother?"

Hannah knew she should stop but maybe they didn't understand what she was asking. She sat forward, her face only inches from his. G.G.'s face was hidden against Frank's shoulder now. Her breathing was uneven but the fluttering motions had ceased.

"Not a real party," she explained. Maybe it was the idea of a crowd that was bothering her. Or dancing. Now that G.G. was in a wheelchair, maybe she didn't like being reminded of what she could no longer do. "Just a family dinner. Here." She gestured at the table behind them. "A few speeches, some stories about your life together. Cake. That's al ."

She shifted until she could look into his eyes. "You've been together seventy-five years, Grandpa. We should celebrate that!"

G.G. was shuddering again.Tiny gasps sputtered against Frank's shirt. "Hannah, no more, please." His voice was sharp. "You need to go now."

Hannah stood up, hesitant to leave after being the unwitting cause of their distress. What had she said?

"Grandpa—"

He waved a hand at her, his other hand softly rubbing Marian's back. "She'll be fine. Just leave right now. And no more talk of a party." He mouthed the last word at her.

Hannah nodded and headed toward the entrance, pausing in the doorway. Marian had raised her head from Frank's shoulder. He was softly smoothing her hair from her face. Even standing at a distance, Hannah could sense the love around the two of them, isolating them from the other people in the room.

She pedaled slowly home going over the visit in her mind. Why wouldn't they want to celebrate their anniversary? With so many marriages ending in divorce, staying married was a major feat in itself. And to be married for seventy-five years to the same person, stil so ful of love...

She parked her bike inside the garage and slipped in the kitchen door. She didn't want to be pushy but somehow, the family needed to recognize their lives together.

Somehow, she'd convince G.G. to have a party.

**********

Chapter 4

Winston, Missouri

August 1929

Marian raced into the parlor at the sound of her father's shouting. "Father, what is it?" He swung around. "You knew what he wanted, didn't you? How dare you?"

The back of his hand struck her cheek. She sank to the floor. Tears sprang to her eyes and she pressed one hand against her throbbing face. "Daddy?"

The door clicked shut behind them. "Joseph, what's going on?" Her mother stood in front of them, her hands on her hips. "The door was open and several people were outside, staring at the house. What are you shouting about?" "Ask her."

Her mother helped Marian to her feet, exclaiming at the mark on her cheek. She glanced at the man slouched in a chair, then back at Marian. "Wel ?"

"I don't know, Mother." She felt the greatest desire to throw herself into her mother's arms and cry. Where was Frank? Why was her father so angry? He'd never hit her before.

"One of you knows something and I expect an answer."

Marian's eyes widened at the vehemence in her usual y quiet mother's voice. "It's Frank," she murmured.

Her mother urged her onto the sofa. "Frank? That boy who works for Bates? What about him?"

"He came to see Father—"

"He asked for your daughter's hand in marriage," her father snapped. "As if he deserved to even walk on the same path as her."

"Daddy, that's not true! Frank's a good man, you know that. Everyone in town likes him. Why, the Bateses think he's wonderful!" Especially Sarah Bates. She didn't add how much the younger daughter's compliments had worried her over the past few days.

"And what did you say, Joseph?" Her mother sat down next to her and Marian snuggled in her mother's arms.

"I told him to leave my house and that if he's smart, he'll get out of town."

"Daddy, no!"

Marian sat up but her mother tugged her back down, hands gentle on her arms. "Joseph, why would you do such a thing?"

Her father's chin jutted out as he stared at them. "To protect my only daughter. What would you do, Elizabeth, give them your blessing?"

"I would talk to the young man and let him visit. If they did truly love each other—" she silenced Marian with a pinch on her arm "—I'd accept my daughter's choice."

"You're a fool then." He lumbered to his feet, his actions those of a much older man, and reached for Marian.

She shrank against her mother, evading his fingers. He grunted, grabbing her arm, hauling her to her feet.

"You wil go to your room, Marian, and stay there Your mother and I will talk about what's to be done."

"But, Daddy!"

"Go, Marian," her mother said. At the sight of her reassuring smile, Marian shuffled out of the room and up the stairs.

She sat on the edge of her bed. Where was Frank? If she could believe her father, he was on his way out of town. But how could he leave her?

A tear trickled down her cheek and she dashed it away angrily. She didn't have time to cry. Her father had banished the only man she could ever love. She jumped up and flung open her bedroom door.

She was halfway down the stairs when her father thundered out of the parlor. "I told you to go to your room, young lady!"

"But, Daddy..."

"And stop that sniveling." Clutching her arm, he dragged her back up the stairs and thrust her into the room with a jerk that sent her tumbling to the floor. Before she could stand up, the key turned in the lock.

She dashed across the room, pounding on the door. "You can't lock me in here! This isn't the dark ages!

Daddy!"

"I can't trust you, Marian. I had no idea you were seeing that man behind my back."

She sat on the floor, resting her head against the door, as his footsteps faded away. Now she couldn't stop the tears. Her father had never shouted at her or hit her before. And to lock her in her room...

She didn't know how long she sat there. Brushing away the tears, she crossed the room and knelt by the open window. The sun had set hours before and stars twinkled in the sky above her. A breeze blew across her cheeks, erasing the heat of her crying. Her chin on her palms, she stared sightlessly outside.

"Marian?"

She leaned out the window. "Frank? Where are you?" she whispered.

"I'm in the trees at the edge of your yard. Did your father lock you in your room?"

She nodded, her earlier indignation returning. "He said he couldn't trust me."

She heard his chuckle over the cicadas. "Can he trust you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving town, Marian. He threatened me and I've decided I've had enough of Winston. Are you game?"

Her heart lurched. He was leaving. But wait—what else had he said? She leaned farther over the ledge, hanging on to the sil with her fingertips. "What did you say?"

"Do you want to go with me?"

"How can I? My father hates you."

"I'm not asking your father's permission."

She sagged against the window, the implications of his statement suddenly clear. If she left with him, she would forfeit her father's blessing. The whole town would know what she'd done.

And if she didn't? Frank would go away and his pride would keep him away. It wouldn't be long before some other woman convinced him to get married and then he'd be lost to her forever.

"Al right, Frank, what do I have to do?"

She heard a long sigh from the shadows and knew he hadn't been certain of her answer. A feeling of power fluttered through her. Initial y this man hadn't even wanted to get involved with her. Now he was risking everything.

But he hasn't said anything about marriage, a tiny voice nagged her.

Why else would he take me with him? she told herself. He had to be planning marriage.

She listened careful y, barely breathing when he paused, both of them attentive to the voices down the road.

He would be back at midnight with a ladder. They'd catch a freight train that usual y passed through the edge of town around 1:00 a.m. and be far from Winston hours before daybreak.

Her heart was beating so hard by the time the clock showed midnight that she was afraid her parents would hear. They'd come up the stairs hours earlier, separately. Her father had gone into the guest room next to hers. He was usual y a heavy sleeper but his tossing and turning signaled that he was as upset by the night's events as she was. When the iron bed final y stopped squeaking, she swallowed a tiny part of her worry.