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“Eden Monteford. I’ve come to visit Brenda James.”
She smiles at me. “Hi, Eden, I’m Lori. Come with me, and I’ll show you where Brenda is having morning tea.”
“If it’s in the garden, then I know the way.” I flick the brake latch off and rock Rose as she has fallen asleep. Hopefully, she’ll stay asleep so I don’t have to chase after her.
“She is. I’ll follow you out as I need to lock the doors behind you for a few minutes.”
I give her a blank look.
“One of our clients has passed. We need to wheel her out of the building, and we prefer all doors closed for privacy. It can upset the residents.”
“Of course,” I say quickly and hurry along because I’m not sure I’m ready to stumble across that scene.
The door clicks behind me when I step outside into the warm sunshine. Brenda is sitting in a wheelchair under the shade of her favorite tree.
It’s the beginning of summer, yet a striped crocheted blanket drapes her knees. Closer, I recognize the nurse sitting beside her from my last visit. Still, I check her name badge to jolt my memory. “Hi, Sophie, I don’t know if you remember me? I’m Eden.”
“Hi. I do. And who do we have here?” She leans in to get a better view of Rose.
“This is my daughter, Rose. I hope she remains asleep so I can have time to chat with Brenda without her crying to get out of the stroller.”
“For sure. Well, I’ll leave you alone while I get Brenda her morning tea. Call out if you need anything. Enter through those doors, and it’s the first room on your right.” She points to another set of double doors on the other side of the lawn.
Positioning Rose’s stroller under the shade, I sit beside Brenda. Her gaze is fixed across the grass, and I’m not sure it’s on anything. “Hi, Brenda.” I lightly pat her hand, hoping for some eye contact.
Brenda stares down at my hand and then looks at me. “Oh, you came back?”
“Yes, I promised I would.” I’m relieved she remembers. “I have Gran’s journal and would like to read some of it. Do you remember the good times with Ivy?”
“We shared some good times,” she says in her husky voice as though she needs to cough.
“Are you unwell?”
She shakes her head.
I remove both journals from my handbag. I open to a section I marked when both ladies snuck out of the nursing home and met up with their boyfriends and soon-to-be husbands. When I finished reading the entry, I turned to Brenda. “You two were mischievous together.”
Brenda blinks, and her brows crease. “I didn’t know you wrote about us?”
“What? No, I didn’t. I—” Her hand reaches for the other journal. The one Gran wrote while in the jungle.
“Tell me another one of your adventures.” Her finger runs over the cover of the journal. Her swollen knuckles are twisted with arthritis. Her eyes are mere slits from the excess skin overhanging her lids. Yet there’s a spark of life and excitement as her lips curl upward. “You had the best life, so don’t feel bad. Stop beating yourself up about Dawn. You did what you needed to do… what was best for everyone. Albert will get over it one day. I mean, would he rather you be dead?”
She thinks I’m Gran. Her best friend, Ivy.
“Do you want me to read to you?”
She smiles. “Does the sun rise every morning?”
“Right.” Good point.
I place Gran’s first journal away and turn the page of the entry I last read.
33
IVY
March 10, 1963
