I cleared my throat and sat up straighter. “Family business.” My tone was flat, and I peered out the window again, admiring the rolling hills in the distance. Daniel ceased asking questions after that. He turned up whatever country music station he was listening to. I much preferred the music over conversing with a stranger.
Lowering the window of the backseat, I allowed the cool breeze to drift over me and remind me of the days I spent in central Texas as a child. My parents had been busy professionals trying to make their way in the hustle and bustle of New York City life. It’d been more comfortable for them to ship me off to Texas with my mother’s parents, as a child, than to keep track of me. I didn’t mind. Those summers were some of the best days of my young life.
“We’re getting close,” Daniel announced, interrupting my thoughts.
Glancing ahead, I saw that we were indeed turning down the long road that would eventually open up to the community where my grandfather’s house resided. Correction, wheremyhouse now dwelled. In his will, my grandfather left his home and property to me, knowing that my mother wouldn’t want it. This trip was the first time in seven years I was returning to this house.
Years earlier, my grandfather told anyone who would listen that he didn’t want a funeral or to have a burial. He wanted to be cremated and have his ashes spread in the same location where we released my grandmother’s ashes.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, thinking about it. The riverbed where her ashes were released was the same place his body had been found.
After my grandfather’s death, I flew down to South Carolina, where my parents lived half of the year. Once his remains were shipped to my parents’ home, we had a small ceremony there. Now, a month later, I was returning to the house that he built to pack up his belongings. The plan was to put the house on the market and sell it. I’d taken a three month leave of absence from work to sort things out.
Sighing, I peered down at the brass urn in my arms. The pain I’d been carrying for over a month reverberated through my chest. I turned away, not wanting to think about what was inside it.
I pushed out a heavy breath at the same time Daniel turned into the long, rocky driveway that led to the front of the house. I held my breath, the closer we drew. I let my lungs slowly release as the fifteen hundred square foot, log-cabin-style home came into view. This was the same place I’d made so many memories as a child.
The home wasn’t even a tenth of the size of the actual property. My grandparents built it that way on purpose. They much preferred open land and outdoors over having a huge home.
“This is it,” Daniel said as he came to a stop just behind a rusty, red, old Ford. The sight of the truck made me smile.
I hopped out of the Camry and grabbed the two suitcases he removed from the trunk.
“I’ve got it from here. Thank you.” I nodded and turned, not giving Daniel a chance to respond. I needed to make these first few steps onto my grandaddy’s property alone.
Once I reached the porch, before taking the stairs that led to the front door, I paused, turning to watch Daniel exit. When he was out of sight, I chose to leave the suitcases where they were and carry only my shoulder bag with the urn up the stairs.
Reaching into the pocket of my jeans, I removed the key and pulled open the screen door. I stopped at the sight of the slightly dingy and sun-dyed wreath. The once light pink silk that formed the petals was almost white. I lightly fingered one of the leaves, remembering that my grandaddy had refused to take the wreath down even years after my grandmother passed away. It was one of the last pieces of home decor she purchased for the house.
Shaking off the memory, I inserted the key into the lock, turning it and pushing the door open.
The stillness that accompanied my entrance hit me like a tong of bricks. After regaining my composure, I took a step but forced myself to stop. I toed off the suede ankle booties I’d chosen to travel in and kicked them aside before fully entering. Everything looked the same from the last time I was there. The wooden coffee table sat in the center of the room. The brown cushions of the couch stared at me from across the room. Slightly dull hardwood floors creaked as I stepped on them. I glanced to my left, and that’s when my heart sank.
There rested the brown leather recliner.
I moved inside, leaving the door open, and placed my bag and the urn on the coffee table. I padded over to the recliner. As I ran my fingers along cracks in the worn leather, a tear slipped from my eye. He’d gotten a lot of use out of this chair in the five years he owned it. Leaning down, I buried my nose into it, sniffing. The menthol smell of my grandfather’s pain relieving ointment was faint but still there. He used the same cream daily on his back.
I let my eyelids fall heavy as the memory came to mind.
“What the hell did you go ahead and buy this for, Jo-Jo?” my grandfather’s voice blasted on the other end of the phone.
“Because, Old Man, you’ve got a bad back, and your recliner just went out, and you refuse to buy a new one,” I retorted.
“I can buy my own damn chair if I wanted one.”
“You can, but you won’t because you're too stubborn.”
“Watch your mouth, lest I have to wash it out with soap.”
I laughed into the phone. “Oh, good. Are you getting on a plane to come see me?”
“Damn sure ain’t.”
We both knew that wasn’t happening.
“You didn’t need to do this, Jo-Jo. I can afford a new recliner.”
I frowned, knowing how much of a penny pincher my grandfather was. “Consider it a gift. One that I wanted to give you, all right?”
