The War Within (24 page)

Grandma Meredith’s smile faded. “We didn’t get that far. After I told her you and I would be in town for a while, she asked if George was with us. I had to tell her he had passed on.”

“Oh, bummer.” Jordan remembered how painful it had been to perform the same chore whenever she used to run into family friends or distant relatives who didn’t know. She not only had to deal with her grief but theirs as well. Not to mention their embarrassment over committing such an awkward social faux pas. “How does she look?”

Grandma Meredith’s smile returned. “The same. Older, but the same.”

“What did you talk about?” After forty-seven years, they had a great deal to catch up on, which explained why Grandma Meredith had been gone for so long.

“She told me about her job and—”

“Wait. She’s still working? What is she, like, seventy-two?”

“Seventy-three. At our age, we may shave a few pounds off our weight, but we make sure to claim every single year we’ve been allotted.”

Jordan remembered when the standard retirement age was sixty-five, but the number seemed to get higher and higher every year. With her luck, she wouldn’t be able to stop working until she was a hundred. “What does she do?”

“She works at a nursing home in St. Simons three days a week plus the occasional weekend if she needs to cover for someone who has the day off.”

“Isn’t that awkward, taking care of people who are the same age as she is?”

“I’m sure it is, but she seems to enjoy it. She did tell me, though, that one of the residents is someone I know. Billie’s living there now.”

“Your former CO? She’s here, too?”

“Yes.” Grandma Meredith’s voice cracked as if she were near tears.

“What’s wrong?”

“Billie isn’t doing very well. Natalie says she has Alzheimer’s.”

Jordan had hoped the brave, daring woman from Grandma Meredith’s stories had found a happy ending somewhere far away from the perils of battle and the frustrations of bureaucratic red tape. “The way you described her, I thought she’d live forever. How long does she have?”

“A few months. Maybe a year. I’m going to see her tomorrow. I want to spend as much time with her as I can while I’m here. I pray she remembers me. If she doesn’t—”

“She will.” Billie and Grandma Meredith had gone through so many harrowing experiences together. Jordan knew Grandma Meredith would be devastated if Billie didn’t remember any of them—or her. “Take the car. I don’t have to go shopping for new clothes. I can pull together an outfit from the ones I brought with me. They didn’t bring me luck on the last round of interviews, but maybe this time will be different.”

“You don’t have to change your plans. Natalie said she would drive me. Like most Alzheimer’s patients, Billie doesn’t react well to change. Natalie wants to be there in case something goes wrong.”

“Is she being protective of Billie’s feelings or yours?”

“Both, I imagine. You were right, by the way. Natalie and Billie used to be an item.”

“I knew it. My gaydar is never wrong.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Jordan’s excitement over having her suspicions about Natalie and Billie confirmed dimmed as soon as she remembered how blindsided she had been by Grandma Meredith’s revelation about herself. “Okay, almost never. So what happens next? Are you going to see Natalie again? Outside of the nursing home, I mean.”

Grandma Meredith blushed. “I kind of invited myself to dinner.”

Jordan almost didn’t recognize this newer, bolder version of her grandmother. “Where? At her place?”

“Not quite. Her friends have a potluck at each other’s houses each month. This month, the owner of the café we went to today is hosting. Natalie wasn’t planning on going, but I twisted her arm. Which reminds me. I need to check the pantry to see if I have everything I need to make green bean casserole. Will you be okay on your own for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll scrounge up something while you’re out on your date.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Food. Conversation. Spending time with the woman you love. Sounds like a date to me.”

Jordan had never imagined a scenario where she would spend the night at home alone while Grandma Meredith and her girlfriend painted the town red. But this was her new reality, whether she wanted to face it or not.

“Good luck tomorrow,” Grandma Meredith said.

“Same to you. But if you get lucky, please don’t tell me. I love you, Gran, but there are some stories I don’t need to hear.”

The halls of the Peaceful Manor smelled and felt as antiseptic as the many hospital wards Meredith had worked in or visited over the years. The forced cheerfulness of the pastel colors and artificial flowers in the dormitory-style building made her almost unbearably sad. Being here reminded her of her own mortality. The last time she’d seen Billie, they were both young and vital. Now Meredith was a widow and Billie was dying from an insidious disease slowly robbing her of both her memory and the dynamic life force that had helped Meredith survive her tour in Vietnam. Meredith regretted losing touch with her. She and Billie—and she and Natalie—had lost so many years they couldn’t get back. Now it was too late. Perhaps it was too late for her and Natalie, too.

Natalie had been cordial to her but not especially warm. Meredith tried to see the situation from Natalie’s perspective. If someone had broken her heart and showed up forty-seven years later asking for another chance, how willing would she be to grant the request? Not very. And not without a lot of convincing. Meredith intended to spend the next three months, if not the rest of her life, pleading her case. She might not be successful, but at least she could say she tried.

But first she had to prepare herself to see Billie. Not as she used to be. As she was now.

“Are you ready?” Natalie asked gently as they stood outside room sixteen.

Meredith clutched the worn paperback copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
Natalie had let her borrow. “I think so.”

“Let me go in first. I can tell right away if she’s having a good day or not. If she’s up for visitors, I’ll tell her you’re here and let you know when you can come in.”

“Okay.”

Meredith felt as nervous as she had on her first day in Vietnam. When Billie had ordered her and Natalie to identify the remains of the soldiers zipped inside a neat row of body bags. This was another trial by fire. One Meredith wished she didn’t have to face.

“Billie?”

Natalie knocked on the door, slowly pushed it open, and stepped inside. She left the door slightly ajar. Through the small opening, Meredith heard the murmur of voices. Natalie’s still-rich alto, followed by a voice that had once been powerful enough to rattle the rafters overhead but now sounded paper thin.

“I brought someone to see you,” Natalie said. “Do you feel up for a little company?”

“Friend or foe?” Billie asked.

Natalie chuckled. “Friend. An old one. Meredith?”

Meredith took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and walked into the room. Mementos of Billie’s long and distinguished career lined the walls and filled nearly every available surface. Photos of her in and out of uniform. Local magazine and newspaper articles chronicling her achievements. Velvet boxes containing colorful medals trumpeting her bravery. Meredith wondered how many of the accolades Billie remembered and how many she had forgotten.

“Meredith? Meredith Chase?”

Meredith felt her shoulders sag with relief. The frail woman in the bed was a shell of her former self, but for today at least, her eyes were bright and her mind was as sharp as ever.

“It’s Meredith Moser now, ma’am.”

“So you and George Moser got married after all.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Relax, lieutenant. In here, it’s just Billie.”

Meredith remembered Billie telling her the exact same thing one night in Suzy’s Bar. Billie winked as if she remembered it, too. She opened her arms for a hug. Meredith happily obliged, feeling sharp bones and a thin layer of skin where strong muscles used to be.

“It’s good to see you, Billie.”

“You, too, Meredith.” Her grip on Meredith’s hands was surprisingly strong. “What brings you to Georgia? Or need I ask?” Her eyes drifted toward Natalie, who had taken a seat on the far side of the room. Close enough to be of use if called upon but far enough away so she wouldn’t infringe on their conversation.

“Actually, my granddaughter did.”

“Is she here, too?” Billie looked around expectantly.

“She’s on vacation with me, but she didn’t make the trip today.”

“You should bring her by sometime. I would love to meet her. If she’s anything like her grandmother, she must be something special.”

Meredith teared up, not only at the compliment but at the realization of the beautiful, intelligent, and honorable young woman Jordan had become. “She certainly is.”

Billie threw back the covers, a thick down comforter and flannel sheets. The temperatures outside were oppressive. Inside, the air conditioning felt like it was on full blast. “Hand me my housecoat, Natalie. Let’s go to the courtyard so we can sit in the sun and get out of this icebox for a while.”

As Natalie helped Billie dress, Meredith grabbed a spare wheelchair from the hall. Meredith pushed Billie outside as Natalie led the way to a grassy courtyard lined with wooden benches.

“That one looks good.”

Natalie pointed to a bench located under the sprawling branches of a towering oak tree. The vantage point offered a nice mixture of sun and shade.

Meredith placed Billie’s chair near the bench and took a seat beside her. They talked for hours, reminiscing about times both good and bad. When Billie’s energy started to wane, Natalie announced it was time to put an end to the reunion.

“Why so soon?” Meredith asked.

“Billie needs her rest. When she gets fatigued, she’s more likely to have periods of confusion. The periods are growing more and more extended, so I’d like to avoid the next one as long as I can.”

“I understand. I’m disappointed, but I understand.”

Billie had nodded off, her chin resting on her chest. When she woke, would she remember Meredith had been to see her?

“I’ll see you later, Billie,” Meredith said after she and Natalie helped Billie back to her room.

“It was good to see you, Meredith. I’m so glad you came.” Billie gripped Meredith’s hand and reached for Natalie’s. After Natalie moved closer to the bed, Billie held both their hands in hers. Held them hard as if she wanted to bestow some of her fading strength upon them while she still could. Her voice retained little of its former air of command, but her words had lost none of their power. “None of us are promised tomorrow. You two have missed years of yesterdays. Make the most of today.” Her eyes were filled with longing, as if she realized days like today would soon become the exception rather than the rule. Like she wanted to live each moment as if she might never see its like again. “That’s an order.” She settled back on the bed and quickly fell asleep as if the effort to get her point across had exhausted her.

Meredith looked at Natalie as the sound of Billie’s gentle snores began to fill the room. Were they supposed to pick up where they left off, or start anew? At the moment, both options seemed like more than Meredith could manage.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” Meredith said. “Please take me home.”

*

Jordan pulled at the cuffs of her new suit as she sat across from Bud Norman, the owner of the Remember When Inn. She tried to keep her eyes focused on his face instead of his god-awful comb-over that put Donald Trump’s to shame. Each time he gave his hair a pat, she was surprised his fingers didn’t come away coated with boot black shoe polish. The dye job perfectly matched his red and black outfit and the tons of University of Georgia memorabilia in his office. Jordan tried to remember some Georgia Bulldog trivia, but she had been raised in the Big 10 instead of the Southeastern Conference. She could talk about the Wisconsin-Minnesota rivalry all day. Georgia-Florida? Not so much.

“You have a varied background,” Bud said, looking over her résumé. “I like a person who can do a little bit of everything. Let’s pretend for a second you already have the marketing degree you’re studying for. What kind of ideas do you have about getting this place some much-needed publicity?”

Jordan mentally reviewed the research she had conducted the day before in order to be prepared for questions like this one.

“First of all, I would take the inn’s general concept a step further. To go along with the themed rooms, the employees could dress as characters from some of the classic shows you feature.”

“Tatum, my night manager, suggested the same thing once, but I told her the idea was too cheesy. If I remember correctly, my exact phrase was, ‘If I follow your suggestion, we’d all have Kraft sharp cheddar stamped on our foreheads.’” Before Jordan could kick herself for coming up with an idea that had already been floated and discarded, Bud chuckled conspiratorially. “The idea was a good one. I just didn’t want to pay for the extra uniforms.”

“What if you passed on the expense to the employees? You could provide the additional uniforms for a discounted price and account for the employees’ share of the cost by way of payroll deduction.”

Bud scribbled a note in the margin of her job application. “I like that idea. What else do you have?”

“The Beach Music Festival is a big draw every summer, isn’t it?”

“The biggest we have. I can’t dance a lick, but I’ve attended the festival almost every year since I was a kid.”

According to Jordan’s research, the Beach Music Festival was the largest of its kind on the Georgia coast. Each August, thousands of beach music fans flocked to the island to shag dance to the sounds of their favorite bands. One of the websites she had found featured dancing couples spinning, twisting, and twirling through the sand like their two bodies shared the same mind.

“You could make a bid to become the host hotel for the musical acts on the bill or become one of the main sponsors of the event itself. If you placed a winning bid, you could become known as the island’s premier destination hotel and you’d make money hand over fist.”