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“I can put my own shoes on,” my grandmother said, indignant, but Mom ignored her, looking over her shoulder at me instead.
“She can’t get her laces tight enough. It’s her arthritis, the doctor said it might flare up with the damp. You shouldn’t take her too far. I want you to turn around after ten minutes—”
“My hands are perfectly fine,” Mimi said, louder.
“—and I got some lavender balm to rub on her joints in the evenings.”
“Okay,” I said, and Mimi stamped one of her feet against the floor with a loudthwap.
“I said, my hands are fine,” she nearly shouted. “Stop fussing, damn you!”
My mom stood up, hands on hips. “Don’t be silly, Mother. I’m just trying to take care of you,” she said, but there was an edge in her voice that made me think of those mafia movies where the mob boss wants a problemtaken care ofand everyone knows that somebody is going to end up dead.
“We’ll be back soon,” I said, and practically pulled Mimi out of the room.
I held her arm as we walked through the gardens and past the rear wall, but she shook my hand away when we reached the path. There was more snow here, nestled in hollows between the trees and crunching under our feet. I was glad my mother had tied Mimi’s boots tight, and sorry I hadn’t taken the time to fetch my own from upstairs.
“I don’t need help,” Mimi said.
“That makes one of us,” I said. I wasn’t kidding: my feet were threatening to slide out from under me every time I moved too quickly. “I haven’t walked on this path before. You’ll have to show me where to step.”
“It’s not far,” she said. “I know the way.”
“Did you walk here with Theo?” I asked, even though I knew the answer. This was familiar territory, not just under our feet but in her memory.
She smiled. “Oh yes, we love to walk. He would hold my hand. So gentle. Like I was a little bird and he was afraid he’d crush me.” She sighed, her breath misting in the air. “I do love the pine path. Of course Theo prefers the water.”
“What did he name his boat?” I said, even though I knew the answer.
“Red Sky.He named it after that summer when the island burned.”
This was one of her favorite stories to tell, and mine to hear. The moment they finally came together, in the midst of fear and flame, and found each other.
“Tell me about the fire,” I said, but she didn’t seem to hear me. Her memories were like a series of interconnected rooms, each with several ways in or out. The strongest ones, like the story of how she met my grandfather, had dozens of entry points; she often ended up there no matter where she’d started. But today, instead of following the boat’s name into the memory of that autumn when the sky was on fire, she followed the boat itself into a story I hadn’t heard before.
“He used to come in just before sunset,” she said. “I could tell which boat was his from a mile off, just from the way she sat in the water. He liked it when I stood out on the pier to watch.” Her expression turned sly. She giggled like a girl. “He liked when I wore my cotton dress and stood facing into the wind.”
I got her meaning instantly and laughed. “I bet he did. Men haven’t changed much since then.”
“That’s right. They don’t change. You’re a smart girl. You know,” she said, and faltered. “You know...”
“Tell me about your cotton dress,” I said quickly, glancing at the sky. It was the same depthless gray as before, too early for her to be sundowning, but the path itself was twilit, the light filtered and mutedby the pines. I wondered if it was confusing her. We needed to turn around. “What color was it?”
“What color was what?”
“Your cotton dress. The one Theo liked.”
“It had blue flowers on it,” she said. She began to walk faster. Purposefully, as if she’d remembered she was late for something. “Blue flowers and green leaves. Now, don’t dally.”
“Mimi, let’s turn around.”
“Oh no, dear. We’re not there yet.”
“We’re not where?”
“Where the sea lavender grows. Didn’t you want some? We’ll bundle it up and hang it in the kitchen. Only, it’s so cold. I wonder...” She paused, slowed, stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief: a tree had fallen across the path ahead, its tangled black branches an impenetrable barrier.
“Looks like this is the end of the road,” I said. Mimi slipped her arm through mine again.
