“I shouldn’t eat all your casseroles,” I say, then instantly regret my words.
She shakes her head, a cackle bubbling up from deep within her. “Who else do you think is going to eat them, darling? I can’t stomach more than a few bites. There’s plenty there to see you through. And once I’m gone, you’ll have enough for the rest of it.”
“I’m an adult. I should be able to take care of myself.” I squat beside her chair and take her hand. “That’s why I need this job. I need to stand on my own two feet.”
Grams closes her eyes for a second, then opens them on a sigh. “I don’t know why everyone is so obsessed with independence these days. Everyone needs a little help now and then. You’re talented, Eloise, just like your mother. You could be more if you gave yourself time and a chance. Your work sold before James and Diana were killed. You could have made a go of it, if you’d kept going. If you hadn’t met Tony and let him fill your head with practicalities, you’d have a career to rival your mother’s by now. All your mom’s gallery contacts are in her studio. I’m sure if you?—”
“I haven’t painted in years.” The fullfeeling I’d woken up with seems to deflate, and my shoulders hunch. “It wasn’t just because of Tony. I was in pain after they died. Holding a paintbrush reminded me too much of Mom. I couldn’t focus or concentrate. I only made it through school because teaching gave me a separate framework to distance myself from the creation process. Painting in her studio? I still don’t think I could do it.”
Grams leans forward and clasps my hands between her own. I can hear the water boiling behind me and need to finish her breakfast, but I can tell whatever she wants to say is important. I stay where I am and let her speak her peace.
“Now you listen to me and listen good. You have something special inside of you, something other people don’t have. A true talent. And God won’t forgive you for wasting something like that. When you’re gifted like you are, you’ve got to share it. And I know sharing it with those kids is important, but you, you have something that should be shared with the world. And right now, you’re wasting it, honey. I think you’re afraid to face that studio because some part of you thinks a part of her still lives there. Some part of you thinks that if that space becomes yours, it won’t be hers anymore, and you’ll kill her last memory. But I’m telling you, a person’s soul does not live in a room or a house. Diana and James live in you, as I will after I’m gone. If you paint again, you won’t forget us. You’ll be keeping us alive.”
Our eyes lock for a moment, and I try to digest everything she’s said, but it’s too much for me. Too much to take in all at once. I stand and turn back to the stove, dumping the cream of wheat into the boiling water and stirring. Removing it from the heat, I pour it into a bowl, adding butter and brown sugar the way she likes it. I can feel her eyes on me, watching me. This is important to her. She wants me tounderstand.
I slide the bowl in front of her and drop in a spoon. “I’ll try,” I say, sitting down beside her and raising a hand before she can respond. “Maybe not right away. I’m not ready yet. But I will try. For you.”
Grams leans forward and embraces me. She feels tiny in my arms, even more feeble than before. My burning eyes release a few tears and they drop onto the shoulder of my pink T-shirt. I kiss her on the cheek before easing her back into her chair when I notice her grip on me weaken.
“How about if I help you with this?” I lift the bowl and scoop some cereal. She nods, and I bring it to her lips.
She swallows the tiniest bite. “Can I ask you something?”
“You’ve never held back before.” I snort.
She rolls her lips together in a tight grin. “Did you have a man over last night?”
I choke on my spit and have to set the bowl down and cough furiously into my hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Her cheeks turn pink, and she giggles.
“How did you know?”
She shrugs. “I thought I heard a man’s voice, but I wasn’t sure if you had someone over or if it was Howard talking to me.”
I pick up the bowl again and spoon a little more into her mouth. “Does Grandpa talk to you often?” I can’t keep the skepticism from my voice.
She nods. “More and more, the closer I get to joining him. I see him, too, sometimes out my window, standing in the cemetery, waiting for me among the fairies. He’s so proud of you, Eloise, for leaving Tony. Did I ever tell you that?”
A lump forms in my throat. My grandfather died when Iwas fourteen, but we were close when I was young. I know Grams isn’t really talking to Gramps, but I appreciate the thought anyway. “No. You never told me, but it sounds like something Gramps would say.”
“Well, I thought it was him at first, but the voice sounded too low. And then I realized maybe you’d brought someone home and were truly moving on from Tony.”
I lick my bottom lip and feed her another half bite. “He’s a friend. Nothing serious. But I’d like to think I’m moving on from Tony on my own.”
“Hmm.” She studies me with her soul-searching grandma eyes. “I’m glad you have a friend then.”
I feed her another bite, but she barely nibbles the edge. My gut tells me she’s done but is going through the motions to keep me talking. “Anyway, if my friend visits again, I may move on some more.” My cheeks blaze, and I know I’m as red as a summer tomato.
She gasps and claps her hands. “Move on all you like, darling.”
I stare down into the bowl. “You’re done with this, aren’t you?”
“Two bites ago.”
“You’re not eating much.”
Her expression softens. “This is how it happens. It’s natural. Don’t worry about me.”
