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“That’s not a question, Gram. That’s a proper noun.” My heart started to trip. He just had that kind of effect on me.
She raised both brows.
“Fine. Okay. What about him?” I pulled my foot up under me and pressed further into the corner of the couch.
“I’m glad you found your way back to him. He’s a good man, but I’m sure you’re aware he’s … had his issues.” Her face filled with compassion. “I know his time away affected him. Deeply. To be honest, I was a little surprised he went into the military after college. Now, this isn’t a dig, or anything, but he always seemed too sensitive.”
I thought about a boy sitting next to me, overlooking the lavender fields, but preoccupied with a tiny ladybug marching across his hand. “He is, but he’s also a very strong person. I know he’s … struggling, though. Have you heard … something?”
She shook her head. “Nothing overt, but Ellie and I talk a couple times a month. She checks on him through me, and a few others on the island. He doesn’t say much to her, apparently.”
Ellie was Noah’s mom. I pictured a tall, ash-blonde woman with brown eyes and a little too much makeup. She’d always been kind to me, even if it was between arguments with her current husband.
“I know he has nightmares, and deals with a lot of depression. I’m pretty sure he’s a poster child for PTSD, but I’ll support him the best I can.”
“Do you know if he’s seeking help?”
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so, but I plan on bugging him about it.” I pulled a breath in, remembering a couple of his odd episodes. Being afraid of Noah, even for a second, felt like a betrayal to both of us. “One step at a time, right?”
“I’m sure you’ll take care of one another.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. You know my appointment is coming up…”
“Mm hm. The nineteenth, right?”
“Yes, but there’s a bit of a snafu.” She took a sip of tea from the cup she’d been cradling. I could have been wrong, but she seemed to drink tea a little more often than she used to. I also knew Robert Chapman had yet to go home. It was an interesting state of affairs, one that should be a good thing, but Gram was a very proud woman. She’d think of herself as a burden, even if no one else did. I shoved the thought away.She’d be fine. She’d be walking very soon.
“Snafu?”
She pulled in a long breath. “It’s the same date we have a ton of guests arriving for Fred and Becky’s shindig. And you know how Sunny gets.”
I did. Sunny had a tendency to get overwhelmed if too many plates were spinning at one time, so it made more sense for her to go with Gram, and for me to stay behind. Only problem was that Sunny rarely drove, and there was no way she’d drive in Seattle.
“It’s fine, Gram. We’ll work it out.”
She seemed dubious. The ferry wasn’t a big deal, but the drive down to the city, followed by all the crap traffic, was unpleasant, at best.
“I can ask Noah. I’m sure he’d be happy to take you. Or, you could always ask Carl.”
Amused, I watched Gram’s face pucker up. “Carl is a good worker. I have no complaints, other than he’s a tiny bit creepy.”
I burst out laughing, and after a moment, Gram joined in.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Hey, all. I hope this fine evening is treating everyone well. I have to say, we’ve got some truly awesome things going on right now.
Happily, for our local economy, Fred Ramirez and his lovely little honey, Becky Cranston, have a boatload of relatives and friends landing on our little island for a pre-Christmas family reunion. Due to preparations for this wonderful onslaught, our beautiful little cryptid, Klahanie Bishop, has entrusted yours truly with chaperoning her Gram, Mrs. Judith Holt, and her Aunt Sunny Eubank to Seattle. You guessed it! Barring complications, Mrs. Holt will finally be getting that chunk of plaster off her leg. I’d guess the last couple of months have dragged on forever, but I’m sure in no time, she’ll be back to climbing Mt. Rainier and ziplining in the Northwest canopy. Or at least, getting back on that lawn tractor. You indeed are an inspiration, Mrs. Holt.
By the way, just so you know, if you find yourself in need of some emergency Christmas stollen, one of our magical island bakers, Alice Mahoney, wants you to know that she just completed several more batches because she couldn’t help herself. You know where to find her. She might even deliver if you ask nicely.
Oh, and lastly, just a reminder: Dani from Salty’z wants you all to know they’re still collecting toys to donate to some of our own island kiddos. Some are having a tougher time than most this holiday season. New preferred, but gently used is acceptable. Do what you can, folks. Do what you can.
The DJ followed the weather report with “So This is Christmas,” from John Lennon.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
