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Authors: Heather C. Hudak

Breathless (26 page)

BOOK: Breathless
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Lia,

 

By now, you have learned that your grandma is not suffering to the extent that you had believed. Nonetheless, her hip is not completely well, as evidenced by the cane she uses to aid her walking ability. She wouldn’t say why, but she really wanted to have you here this week. Her heart is in the right place, so go easy on her. She is in pain, but she’ll never let you see how much. Anyway, she is going to need your help with a few things, which is why I have set an alarm to wake you at the crack of dawn. Your grandma rises early. Have a fresh pot of coffee brewing for when she awakes. That’s your first task. Further instructions will be found in the kitchen.

 

Hank Bethsby

 


Ugh,” was all I could manage to utter as I rolled toward the edge of the bed, landing feet first on the floor before thrusting the rest of my body upward. Heavy footed, I clopped down the hall to the kitchen. A second note card rested atop the coffeemaker.

 

Lia,

 

Kudos for finding this note before your grandma. She said you were a sweet girl, and it seems she may be right since you appear willing to play along with my little charade. Your grandma would be very upset if she knew I had put you up to this, so let this be our little secret. I’ve laid out everything you will need to supply her with the morning essentials. Follow the instructions below, and you should have no trouble.

 

1. Fresh-ground coffee can be found on the third shelf from the bottom in the pantry. Place two scoops in the filter, and add four cups of water. Once it is done percolating, pour it into the tall zebra mug found in the cupboard above the sink. It’s her favorite. She takes one drop of cream and two sugars.

 

2. Grab a tray from the cupboard beside the stove. You can use it to carry breakfast to your grandma when you first hear her stir. This should happen around 6:45 a.m.

 

3. While the coffee is brewing, take a bagel out of the brown bag on the counter, and put it in the toaster. Strawberry cream cheese in the fridge.

 

4. The newspaper should be laying on the front step. Bring it in, and place it on the tray with the other items.

 

One last note card is waiting for you in the bathroom. Together, we can make sure your grandma is comfortable. I’m sure you want that as much as I do.

 

Hank

 

It was then that I realized Mr. Bethsby and my grandma were more than just friends. I wondered how long their affair had been carrying on and if my mom knew. I figured not, or she likely would have been less insistent that I spend the week here against my will.

 

I wasn’t sure if I should be happy that someone cared so deeply about my grandma’s welfare or if I should be concerned about the fact that he had sneaked throughout the house in the night leaving little clues about how to keep my grandma comfortable. I jumped back and forth between the two options while I prepared breakfast according to Hank’s instructions, finally landing on the former. So long as Hank’s intentions were pure, I had no problem with him playing caretaker to my grandma.

 

Before my grandma could wake, I dashed down the hall to the bathroom adjacent my room and began searching for the final message. It took a minute—pulling back the shower curtain, checking under the sink, and lifting the tissue container proved fruitless. However, inside the medicine cabinet, there was a small, thick envelope. This time the message was much more detailed. Hank had taken the time to write down all of my grandma’s idiosyncrasies. From her favorite television shows to the time of day she would take a walk, he had listed everything. He said I should use the information to plan accordingly. There were no specific instructions, just suggestions. I folded the papers into a wad and stuffed them between the mattress and box spring in the guestroom bed where I had set up shop.

 

Despite the anger I had felt the night before—and was still harboring this morning—I knew I should appreciate the fact that my grandma was healthy and able. After I had given her a chance to explain her intentions—and I had given her a piece of my mind—I would spend some quality time with her.

 

From down the hall, I could hear stirring in the master bedroom. I dropped the mattress corner and tiptoed into the corridor.

 


Grandma, are you up,” I called just above a whisper. I hoped that if she was awake she would hear, but if she wasn’t, I didn’t want to wake her unnecessarily.

 


Lia, sweetie, what are you doing up,” she said in a thick growl that ended in a coughing fit.

 


Stay where you are,” I called as I ran down the hallway to the kitchen. After all of my hard work preparing her a breakfast in bed, I was not going to let her get up before she could enjoy it. “I mean it grandma. Don’t move. I’m already furious with you for whatever little ploy you have going on here. You don’t want me to tell my mother do you?”

 

The last part was uncalled for, and I knew it. I could tell that she had stopped making an effort to crawl out of bed, so there was no need to cast threats. Still, I wanted to take advantage of the fact that I had a captive audience. She needed to know I was keen to her plot and unhappy about the situation.

 

Like a toddler caught with her hand in the cookie jar, I wracked my brain in search of an excuse for committing such a kind act as making breakfast in bed when I was supposed to be so angry. My mind drew a blank. I paused for a moment outside her bedroom door, balancing the unstable tray atop my knee as I struggled to palm the doorknob. I still hadn’t figured out what I would say once inside.

 


Grandma,” I nodded as I shuffled to her bedside and laid the tray across her lap.

 


This is very nice,” she said, fiddling with napkin and cutlery.

 


Um hm,” was all I could muster in response.

 


You’re mad,” she said, stating the obvious.

 

Standing so that only part of my body was facing her, I twisted my head in her direction and narrowed my eyes. Suggesting I might be mad was a gross understatement.

 


Okay, so maybe you’re furious, but Lia…” her voice trailed off as I started to walk out of the room.

 


Wait,” she called after me; I could hear the pleading in her voice, and I knew I would cave in to her command. Coming to a sudden halt in the doorway, I turned to face her completely, my arms crossed tight across my chest. “You have every right to be upset, Lia. I would be.”

 

This was a good start, I thought, though I would never say so out loud. I relaxed my stance slightly to indicate she should continue.

 


I really did fall. And, my hip—well, it’s in poor form,” she started to explain. “I knew your mom would send you to stay with me, and I wanted to see you sooner than later. The way we left things the last time I saw you…it’s been eating me up inside. I hate that you’re so upset with me, Lia. We have always been so close, and now, I hardly ever talk to you. I had to do something.”

 


And you thought ruining spring break of my senior year would be your first step to forgiveness?”

 


Oh, Lia. I guess I never realized what you would be giving up. I’ve been selfish.”

 


Yes. You have,” I replied, storming out of the room. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the clock on the kitchen wall. I could practically hear it mocking me as it flashed the time—7:15 a.m. It would be nearly four more hours before Eli would rescue me from what seemed like my own personal purgatory.

 

For the rest of the morning, we managed to stay out of each other’s way. I sat on the edge of my fluffy bed—I preferred a firm mattress, so trying to sleep on it was, in my opinion, the equivalent of trying to swim in a pool of tapioca pudding. Nonetheless, I buried my head in the pages of my calculus textbook and began plugging away at mathematical equations. After about an hour, I had managed to complete the entire assignment, as well as all of the trig questions we had been told to attempt. At this rate, I would be done all of my schoolwork before lunch, and I would have nothing left to keep me busy the rest of the week.

 

Two-and-a-half hours. I contemplated ways to spend the time before Eli would appear—hopefully. After all, I had only known him for a few hours. Perhaps, he was completely unreliable and would decide to skip out on our engagement. Surely, someone who looked and dressed that good would have plenty of available girls pounding down his door. And, I bet the football team, or some equally appealing set of jocks, would want to monopolize his time. Why would he want to spend a perfectly lovely Saturday morning with me? The answer came to me quickly. His grandfather would likely have his head if he even considered playing hooky from our plans. I found the thought ruthlessly consoling. For the next two hours—until the time I would have to consider making myself presentable—I caught up on emails and listened to tunes on my iPod. The time passed quicker than I had expected it would.

 

As promised, Eli was standing on the doorstep promptly at 11 a.m. The doorbell took me by surprise.

 


You ready,” he asked as I pulled open the creaky oak door, motioning for him to come inside. After looking down to see that I already my sneakers fastened to my feet, he ignored my invitation. Instead, he stepped backward off the step and—never taking his gaze from mine—began slowly walking toward the curb, where an enormous, blue vehicle of some kind was parked awkwardly in front of Hank’s house—which was, of course, practically on top of my grandma’s driveway. How could I have missed this eyesore the night before? Even under the cover of night, I was sure it would be impossible to conceal.

 


We’re going in that,” I questioned as I pulled the door tight behind me. For half-of-a-second I had an internal debate about locking the door, and I finally settled on leaving it unlocked. I felt fairly certain that Mr. Bethsby would be over to check on my grandma before Eli and I had left tread marks from our departure. He could lecture me later about security concerns.

 

Eli laughed and disappeared behind the massive machine. As I struggled to climb into the passenger seat, the engine roared to life. Next to a jet engine, it was, possibly, the most deafening sound I had ever encountered.

 


Where are we going,” I asked innocently, secretly hoping that the destination was nearby so that I would not be confined to this hideous wreck any longer than absolutely necessary.

 


It’s a surprise,” he said smiling, his crystal blue eyes gleaming bright. Eli could be the poster boy for any leading toothpaste manufacturer. There was only one word to describe his impeccable appearance—stunning. In his shadow, I felt entirely inadequate. Despite Chaseyn’s equally remarkable aesthetics, I never felt
that way
in his presence. Perhaps it was the fact that Eli so perfectly fit into the All-American archetype, while Chaseyn exuded a sense of the eccentric. Beyond their categorically pleasing appearances, there were no similarities, really.

 


So,” I said after a few awkward moments of silence. “Tell me about your wheels.”

 


I don’t want to bore you,” Eli said politely. “We can talk about something else.”

 

Though he was right, I would likely find the conversation boring, I was still contemplating other acceptable conversation starters. In the meantime, this would just have to do.

 


No. I want to know. What is
it
?”

 

Immediately after I said the words, I worried he might find my tone offensive. I had no idea what to call the old tin lizzie we were using to transport us around town, but I had not intended to sound so chiding. Especially when Eli was taking time out of his own life to cart me around town.

 


It

s
a 1981 Toyota half-ton. I rebuilt it with my grandpa,
” he said proudly. “Took us six months to collect all the parts. Gramps had to search every junkyard from here to Fort Worth to find everything we needed. He was so excited to get under the hood.”

 

Instantly, my heart hurt. Eli, who had lived with his grandfather most of his life, still found it comforting to spend quality time with the old man, and I couldn’t find it within me to spare my grandma a bit of forgiveness when she had only been trying to help. I hardly saw her anymore, and she was only getting older. What if I ran out of time? Right then, I decided that I would put the past behind us the minute Eli dropped me off at her house.

 


That sounds like fun. You must really love spending time with him,” I said sincerely. “He seems pretty great.”

 


Yeah. He’s not so bad, I guess,” he said, clearly downplaying his admiration for the older man. “Your grandma’s pretty cool, too. They spend a lot of time together—her and grandpa.”

 


I figured so much. He must really care about her,” I said.

 

Eli nodded.

 


We’re here,” he said pulling to a stop in what seemed to be a concrete jungle.

BOOK: Breathless
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