Page 85 of Second Chance Summer

And adding to the feeling that the summer as we’d known it had ended was the presence of my grandfather. After I’d had my conversation on the dock with Henry, I’d gone inside and cried for an hour. This seriously frightened Warren, who’d come home with Wendy and a pizza in tow for dinner, and hadn’t expected either the news about Dad or to find his sister in an emotional meltdown. When I’d composed myself, with Warren standing by for emotional support, I’d called my grandfather in New York and told him the situation. I’d barely gotten the words out before he was telling me what bus he would be on, and when I should pick him up. So as my mother was dealing with the medical-supply people and setting up the bed, and Warren was taking Gelsey out for ice cream to tell her what was happening (never mind that it was ten in the morning), I was driving to Mountainview to meet my grandfather’s bus.

I arrived early and parked near the bus station, but it wasn’t until I got out of the car to wait that I realized I probably should have pulled myself together a little more. I wasn’t even wearing shoes, which was never really a problem in Lake Phoenix. My feet, by now, had toughed up so that I could easily run up the driveway barefoot, and I preferred to drive barefoot, always with a few lone grains of sand clinging to my feet and the pedals. Nevertheless, I almost always remembered to throw some flip-flops into the car so that I wouldn’t look like a total hick when I got out of it. But between lying awake the night before, wondering if I’d done the right thing with Henry, and this morning, with the new equipment and people traipsing through the house, I wasn’t really in the best frame of mind.

The bus arrived right on time, and I walked up the hot sidewalk to meet it, as the doors swung open and the passengers disembarked. My grandfather was the third passenger off, and I waved as he got closer, getting a curt nod in response.

Even though it was a Saturday morning, and the temperature was in the high eighties, he was wearing a collared shirt and a blue blazer, khakis with pleats, and boat shoes. His white hair was sharply parted and he carried a small leather duffel bag and a larger suitcase easily, as though they weighed nothing. As he got closer, I realized with a sudden pang that my grandfather, who had always been old, was now in much better shape than my dad was.

“Taylor,” he said as he reached me, pulling me into a quick hug. He didn’t look much like my father—my dad seemed to take after my grandmother, at least in the pictures of her I’d seen—but I noticed now, for the first time, that he had the same blue eyes as my dad. And me.

“Hi,” I said, already feeling awkward around him, and wondering how long he was going to end up staying. “The car’s this way.” As I headed over, I saw him look down at my feet and raise his eyebrows, but he didn’t say anything, which I was grateful for. I wasn’t sure what explanation I could give for having forgotten to wear shoes that morning.

“So,” he said, after I’d started driving toward Lake Phoenix. I noticed that his posture was, as always, ramrod-straight, and I found myself sitting up a little straighter in response. “How is Robin?”

It took me a moment to translate this to my dad. I knew his name was Robin, of course, but he went exclusively by Rob, and my grandfather was practically the only one I had ever heard call him this. “He’s back from the hospital,” I said, not really trusting myself to say more. My dad had been asleep most of the morning, even through the setup of the hospital bed, which had been loud enough to send Murphy running for cover. My grandfather nodded and looked out the window, and I tried to remember the last time he’d seen my dad—it would have been months ago, when he still seemed healthy, and strong, and normal. I had no idea how to prepare my grandfather for the changes in him—I could barely process them myself. “He’s not doing so well,” I said, looking straight ahead, concentrating on the brightness of the red light in front of me. “You might be a little surprised by how he looks.”

My grandfather nodded again, squaring his shoulders a little as though steeling himself to face this. After a few minutes of driving in silence, my grandfather pulled something out of his bag. “I made this for your sister,” he said. “I finished it on the bus.” He extended it to me just as I reached another stoplight and slowed for the yellow. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

I looked at the item on his outstretched palm. It was a tiny carved wooden dog, remarkably detailed. “You made this?” I asked, stunned. The car behind me honked, and I realized the light had changed. I drove on, and my grandfather turned the dog over in his hands.

“Whittling,” he said. “I learned to do it on the first ship I served on, when I had kitchen duty. I could make a potato look like anybody.” I felt myself smile, a little shocked. It seemed my grandfather could be funny. “Your mother told me you got a dog, but she didn’t tell me what kind. So it’s kind of a mix.”

“So’s the dog,” I assured him, sneaking another glimpse at the tiny figure. “I think Gelsey will love it.” As I thought about him carving it for her, I was suddenly ashamed that my first thought upon seeing him was how long he would be staying. And as I thought about him carving it on the bus, I was just glad he hadn’t flown. Somehow, I had a feeling the TSA wouldn’t have approved.

“Good,” my grandfather said, tucking it back in his suitcase. “I know this is probably so hard on her. On all of you.” I nodded, tightening my fingers on the steering wheel, telling myself to hold it together a little longer. I didn’t want to cry in front of my grandfather, of all people.

When I pulled into the driveway, the medical supply van was gone, but there was still an unfamiliar car parked next to my mom’s, which I figured belonged to the nurse who was taking this shift. “Here we are,” I said, even though that was probably pretty obvious by the fact that the car was in park and I had just killed the engine. My grandfather collected his things, waving me off when I tried to help, and I led him into the house.

My father was lying on the couch, listening with a faint smile on his face as Gelsey perched nearby, apparently telling him all about the carnival. She stopped talking as she looked up at us, standing in the doorway. My father’s head slowly turned as well, but I was watching my grandfather’s face when he got his first glimpse of my father.

I had never seen my grandfather cry. He was not one for any kind of displays of affection, and he and my father had always seemed to greet each other with a handshake and a pat on the back. I’d never even seen him get even slightly emotional. But when he saw my father, his face seemed to crumple, and it looked like he aged about five years, right in front of my eyes. Then he squared his shoulders again and walked to the couch, nodding at Gelsey as he went.

dding to the feeling that the summer as we’d known it had ended was the presence of my grandfather. After I’d had my conversation on the dock with Henry, I’d gone inside and cried for an hour. This seriously frightened Warren, who’d come home with Wendy and a pizza in tow for dinner, and hadn’t expected either the news about Dad or to find his sister in an emotional meltdown. When I’d composed myself, with Warren standing by for emotional support, I’d called my grandfather in New York and told him the situation. I’d barely gotten the words out before he was telling me what bus he would be on, and when I should pick him up. So as my mother was dealing with the medical-supply people and setting up the bed, and Warren was taking Gelsey out for ice cream to tell her what was happening (never mind that it was ten in the morning), I was driving to Mountainview to meet my grandfather’s bus.

I arrived early and parked near the bus station, but it wasn’t until I got out of the car to wait that I realized I probably should have pulled myself together a little more. I wasn’t even wearing shoes, which was never really a problem in Lake Phoenix. My feet, by now, had toughed up so that I could easily run up the driveway barefoot, and I preferred to drive barefoot, always with a few lone grains of sand clinging to my feet and the pedals. Nevertheless, I almost always remembered to throw some flip-flops into the car so that I wouldn’t look like a total hick when I got out of it. But between lying awake the night before, wondering if I’d done the right thing with Henry, and this morning, with the new equipment and people traipsing through the house, I wasn’t really in the best frame of mind.

The bus arrived right on time, and I walked up the hot sidewalk to meet it, as the doors swung open and the passengers disembarked. My grandfather was the third passenger off, and I waved as he got closer, getting a curt nod in response.

Even though it was a Saturday morning, and the temperature was in the high eighties, he was wearing a collared shirt and a blue blazer, khakis with pleats, and boat shoes. His white hair was sharply parted and he carried a small leather duffel bag and a larger suitcase easily, as though they weighed nothing. As he got closer, I realized with a sudden pang that my grandfather, who had always been old, was now in much better shape than my dad was.

“Taylor,” he said as he reached me, pulling me into a quick hug. He didn’t look much like my father—my dad seemed to take after my grandmother, at least in the pictures of her I’d seen—but I noticed now, for the first time, that he had the same blue eyes as my dad. And me.

“Hi,” I said, already feeling awkward around him, and wondering how long he was going to end up staying. “The car’s this way.” As I headed over, I saw him look down at my feet and raise his eyebrows, but he didn’t say anything, which I was grateful for. I wasn’t sure what explanation I could give for having forgotten to wear shoes that morning.

“So,” he said, after I’d started driving toward Lake Phoenix. I noticed that his posture was, as always, ramrod-straight, and I found myself sitting up a little straighter in response. “How is Robin?”

It took me a moment to translate this to my dad. I knew his name was Robin, of course, but he went exclusively by Rob, and my grandfather was practically the only one I had ever heard call him this. “He’s back from the hospital,” I said, not really trusting myself to say more. My dad had been asleep most of the morning, even through the setup of the hospital bed, which had been loud enough to send Murphy running for cover. My grandfather nodded and looked out the window, and I tried to remember the last time he’d seen my dad—it would have been months ago, when he still seemed healthy, and strong, and normal. I had no idea how to prepare my grandfather for the changes in him—I could barely process them myself. “He’s not doing so well,” I said, looking straight ahead, concentrating on the brightness of the red light in front of me. “You might be a little surprised by how he looks.”

My grandfather nodded again, squaring his shoulders a little as though steeling himself to face this. After a few minutes of driving in silence, my grandfather pulled something out of his bag. “I made this for your sister,” he said. “I finished it on the bus.” He extended it to me just as I reached another stoplight and slowed for the yellow. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

I looked at the item on his outstretched palm. It was a tiny carved wooden dog, remarkably detailed. “You made this?” I asked, stunned. The car behind me honked, and I realized the light had changed. I drove on, and my grandfather turned the dog over in his hands.

“Whittling,” he said. “I learned to do it on the first ship I served on, when I had kitchen duty. I could make a potato look like anybody.” I felt myself smile, a little shocked. It seemed my grandfather could be funny. “Your mother told me you got a dog, but she didn’t tell me what kind. So it’s kind of a mix.”

“So’s the dog,” I assured him, sneaking another glimpse at the tiny figure. “I think Gelsey will love it.” As I thought about him carving it for her, I was suddenly ashamed that my first thought upon seeing him was how long he would be staying. And as I thought about him carving it on the bus, I was just glad he hadn’t flown. Somehow, I had a feeling the TSA wouldn’t have approved.

“Good,” my grandfather said, tucking it back in his suitcase. “I know this is probably so hard on her. On all of you.” I nodded, tightening my fingers on the steering wheel, telling myself to hold it together a little longer. I didn’t want to cry in front of my grandfather, of all people.

When I pulled into the driveway, the medical supply van was gone, but there was still an unfamiliar car parked next to my mom’s, which I figured belonged to the nurse who was taking this shift. “Here we are,” I said, even though that was probably pretty obvious by the fact that the car was in park and I had just killed the engine. My grandfather collected his things, waving me off when I tried to help, and I led him into the house.

My father was lying on the couch, listening with a faint smile on his face as Gelsey perched nearby, apparently telling him all about the carnival. She stopped talking as she looked up at us, standing in the doorway. My father’s head slowly turned as well, but I was watching my grandfather’s face when he got his first glimpse of my father.

I had never seen my grandfather cry. He was not one for any kind of displays of affection, and he and my father had always seemed to greet each other with a handshake and a pat on the back. I’d never even seen him get even slightly emotional. But when he saw my father, his face seemed to crumple, and it looked like he aged about five years, right in front of my eyes. Then he squared his shoulders again and walked to the couch, nodding at Gelsey as he went.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com