“I asked Sam to look into what might have hurt you, what might have made you unable to speak for all these years,” she blurted into the quiet afternoon.
Grandma stilled in her digging, then slowly set the spade down.Gingerly, she got to her feet and turned to face Jill.
Jill couldn’t decide if she lookedsurprisedby the information, but she definitely looked hurt.
ButJillwas hurt too.
“I’ve asked myself, and you refuse to answer.”Jill tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, but she was failing and her eyes were filling with tears.“I’ve… been here for you.I’ve done everything I know to do.I only want to help, and I don’t know how.I don’t know why you keep me at such a firm distance.Why you won’t let me in.I needed to know.Ineedto know.”
Grandma said nothing for a very long time.Just stood there and stared at Jill and dealt with whatever she felt so internally, Jill couldn’t see it, feel it.She wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks but couldn’t seem to stem the tide of tears.
Grandma finally shook her head.“You can’t.”
It was like beingstabbed.“Is that how little you think of me?”
Grandma’s expression gave away nothing but that little glimmer of hurt.“Not about you.”
No.Nothing ever was.It was a self-pitying thought that didn’t belong here, but she felt it all the same.Deep down.That nothing in her life had ever been abouther.She was everyone else’s supportive role.Never the main character.Never quite important enough to earn anyone’s notice or praise or appreciation.
She hadn’t come here three years ago to be the main character.She hadn’t come here forpraiseor with the thought it would earn her something.She hadn’t stayed to somehow be paid or appreciated.She had done the work of caring for her grandmother because she loved Grandma and wanted to give the woman everything she could.
But it felt like… it should have earned hersomething.Not in payment.Not even in credit.In… respect.In theirrelationship.That she was more than just a random caretaker.She was agranddaughter, and one who deserved answers.
“Sam found out how Grandpa died,” Jill said.
Flat.Like her own stab.
Grandma went pale.She reached out for something, but there was nothing there.Jill was so afraid she might fall that she rushed forward, grabbed her grandmother’s arm—to be the thing she reached out for.
But Grandma steadied herself and pulled away.“Can’t be.Couldn’t have.”Grandma looked at her like she was a ghost or a threat.Somethingawful.“Why would you do this?”
“I justtoldyou,” Jill replied, wrapping her arms around herself so she wouldn’t wrap them around Grandma and tell her to forget it.
Secrets were fine.Secrets were better than hurt.
But it wasn’ttrue.
“Who knows?She has to stop.Stop.Whoknows?”It was panic, and some other words too garbled for Jill to make out.
Like this simple truth was somehow going to cause… something dangerous.
“Grandma.Take a breath.”Jill couldn’t help herself.She reached out and gripped Grandma’s shoulders, holding her tight and firm and trying to get Grandma to look her in the eye.“I don’t understand.The death certificate said he committedsuicide.What are you talking about?”
Grandma stopped her frustrated, panicked movements.She stilled completely, looking away from Jill.But her breathing was still ragged, her chest rising and falling at an alarming rate.
Therewassomething here.Something bigger and worse… or if not worse, bad.Just as bad.
“Grandma, you have to tell me the truth.”Jill spoke quietly, but with an urgency she’d never really felt before.
Like everything hung in the balance.It was like last summer, when Aly had been threatened.It felt that close to life and death.
But there were no deadly weapons here.No threats.Just a truth Grandma knew and wouldn’t explain.
“I’mbeggingyou.You have to let me in,” Jill said, more tears falling.She didn’t even bother to wipe them away.She held firm to Grandma’s shoulders.“Haven’t we learnedanythingthis past year?”
Grandma finally met her gaze, and Jill recognized the strange emotion Grandma was so desperate to hide.
Terror.
