A Treasure of the Heart. Valerie Hansen
Gram. Sounds good,” she replied, vowing to limit her intake at all costs. After thirty she’d found that the slightest dab of extra food added to her hips, seemingly overnight, and a fried pie was considerably more than a dab. It was more like a semitruckload.
When Darla Sue appeared in the doorway from the living room, Lillie’s blue eyes widened in surprise. Most of Gram’s quirks were familiar to her. This latest one, however, was brand new. And it was such doozy she almost laughed out loud.
Although Darla Sue was fully dressed, her curly hair was tucked neatly beneath a pink bouffant shower cap.
“What?” The old woman scowled in response to Lillie’s evident amusement.
“I was just noticing your…um…hat.”
“What about it?”
Lillie struggled to keep a straight face and failed. “Did you forget to take it off after you showered?”
“Nope.”
“But, you’re wearing…”
“I know what I’m wearing, girl. I put it on, didn’t I?” She started into the kitchen. “It’s chilly today. I could use a cup of tea.”
“Okay. Let’s sit and talk a bit. I want to ask you why you haven’t been going to work.”
The disgusted look on her grandmother’s face made Lillie’s grin spread. Knowing this spry elderly enigma, she’d beat around the bush for a while, then eventually tell all. It was waiting for her to get to the point that was always the most frustrating.
The older woman displaced a snoozing yellow cat and settled herself in one of the chrome-and-red plastic dinette chairs. She watched quietly while Lillie filled the copper tea kettle, set it on the front burner and lit the antiquated stove with a match before she said, “It’s all that Wanda’s fault.”
“What is? The cap, or not going to work?”
“Both.” Darla Sue tapped the pink plastic cap for emphasis. “I couldn’t find my mama’s babushka. You used to play with it when you were little. Remember? It was paisley, with a brown border.”
“I do remember that old scarf. Whenever I’d put it on you used to say I looked just like the pictures of Great Great-Grandma Emily when she was an immigrant.”
“That’s the one. Anyhow, it’s missing.”
One of Lillie’s eyebrows arched. “Okay. What does that have to do with staying home from work?”
“Everything. And don’t look at me like that, girl. I’m not daft.”
“Hey, I never said you were. But you are confusing sometimes. Maybe we’d better concentrate on one problem at a time. Tell me about Wanda first.”
“Okay. She got a newfangled phone. One of those little ones that takes pictures and shows you who you’re talking to.”
Lillie fetched two mugs and put a tea bag in each before bringing them to the table while she waited for the water to boil. “What does that have to do with the scarf?”
“I’m getting around to it,” the elderly woman grumbled. “The director at the Senior Center has one of those phones, too, a little blue one. I stopped by there on my way to the market the other day and had a chance to try it out.”
“And you called Wanda? Gram, that’s long distance.”
“I know. But I couldn’t think of anybody else who had one of those stupid camera things and the director said it was all right.”
Lillie nodded, hoping to convey empathy. “Go on.”
“I was all set to have a fine set-down visit with Wanda, just like we used to do before she moved so far away. Might have, too, if it hadn’t been for that telephone. Wanda took one look at the snapshot of me on her phone and busted out laughing.”
“Why?”
Darla Sue’s thin fingers grasped the cap and pulled it off. “’Cause of this.”
“Your hair?” Lillie blinked, more puzzled than ever.
“Yep. When Wanda finally stopped cackling like a hen on a nest of fresh eggs, she said I looked like a skunk.”
“Oh, dear.” Lillie had to bite her lip to keep from agreeing. “You’re letting your hair grow out?”
“It would appear so.”
“And that’s why you haven’t been at the café?”
“Bingo. I always did think you were a smart cookie.”
Lillie was frowning. “I still don’t see the problem. I mean, I can understand why you’d be miffed at Wanda for laughing at you but you could still go in to work. There’s not a thing wrong with gray hair. I don’t know why you dyed it for so many years, anyway. If you want to go gray, why don’t you just have the dyed part stripped of color?”
Darla Sue had a faraway look in her eyes, as if her mind was elsewhere, and she didn’t respond to Lillie’s sensible suggestion. Instead, she said, “Max didn’t cotton to gray, you know. That’s why I kept it dark. For him. Now that he’s gone, I decided it was time to be myself for a change.”
Lillie froze. Was Gram saying what Lillie thought she was saying? “Grandpa Max is dead?” She gently took the old woman’s hands. “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Not dead, you ninny.” Darla Sue pulled away with a cynical grimace. “Gone. Took off for Florida with one of them fancy single floozies from the retirement center.” She sighed. “I suppose he’ll be back. He always comes home eventually.”
“Whoa.” The teakettle began to whistle in the background. Lillie ignored it. “Always? Grandpa’s done this kind of thing before?”
“Three times, more’s the pity. You’d think a man his age would be over this silliness by now, wouldn’t you?”
Lillie was nearly speechless. “But…”
“The first time he left me was when your mama was little. That was the scariest, me being alone and all. The second time it happened was before you were born.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Things were hard enough between you and Max, thanks to his stubborn, selfish nature. I always took him back and forgave him, so there was no need to keep bringin’ up the past.”
“That’s unbelievable.”
“Not to me it isn’t.” Her chin jutted out stubbornly. She smashed the shower cap back onto her head and poked stray curls beneath the elastic band with jabs of her thin, quick fingers. “That tea water’s boilin’. You wanna go get it or shall I?”
It was hours later before Lillie had a chance to steal away and place a private call to her mother, Sandra, in Harrison.
As soon as Sandra said hello, Lillie followed with “Why didn’t you tell me about Grandpa Max?”
“Oh, dear. Mom’s been blabbing, hasn’t she?”
“She said he ran off with a floozy. I can’t believe he’s such a stinker.”
“He isn’t. He’s just a man. They can’t help it.”
“Phooey. Daddy wasn’t like that.” The dead silence on the other end of the line made Lillie’s heart sink. “Mom?”
“Your father was a good man—most of the time. And he was a wonderful provider. I’m just sorry you had to see us go through that awful divorce.”
“Daddy cheated?” Lillie felt as if her childhood had just imploded. No wonder her mother had suffered so much. She’d known the whole sordid truth. And now Lillie did. The reputation