Remembering You (4 page)

Ava smiled as she hurried up the front steps and then paused at the cowbell hung by the door. Her grandpa had picked it up at a yard sale and used it as his doorbell. She rang it twice and waited. When no one answered, she opened the door.

“Grandpa?” The kitchen smelled of coffee, bacon, and his old woodstove. Emotion filled her chest when she noticed the pansy wallpaper that she’d helped her grandma hang. She moved through the kitchen to the living room and tears rimmed her eyes. Walking in this place was like turning seven again, and she had a sudden urge to make some popcorn and curl up next to her grandfather for some John Wayne movies.

“Grandpa?” she called again, moving down the small hall to the master bedroom. The bed was made and everything was picked up. The carpet even had lines from the vacuum cleaner, which meant he’d cleaned for her. Turning around to head back out of the bedroom, she noticed a suitcase by the bedroom door. Hard-bodied, with tarnished, bronze-colored clasps. He was packed and ready to go, even though they weren’t heading out until morning. She imagined he was excited about seeing all his old friends, going back to the places that had transformed his life. The places he hadn’t been in sixty-five years.

In the kitchen, the coffeepot was full, which meant Grandpa Jack had made a fresh pot for her. She poured a cup and opened the fridge for milk. On the top shelf she spotted hazelnut creamer.
He remembered.
She poured some and headed outside, knowing he couldn’t be far.

Ava took a sip as she walked. Mrs. Sanchez had a new deck, and Mr. Harrison next door already had pink roses on the arbor next to his front patio.

Six trailers down, she spotted him. Grandpa Jack’s back was to her. He was leaning against the fence talking to ol’ Henry. Henry had to be at least twenty years younger than her grandfather, but he’d been in bad health since she’d known him. Grandpa did Henry’s yard work for him, as well as the yard work for most of the others on his street. Her mom always said it kept him young.

Henry spotted her first and pointed. She was nearly at her grandfather’s side when he turned. Uneasiness crept over her as she again remembered their last conversation. She wondered if he was still angry with her, or if he was disappointed that she was the one going on this trip with him.

Grandpa turned and his brow was furrowed slightly. Then, seeing her, the lines on his forehead softened.

“There she is. What took you so long?” With hedge clippers in one hand, Grandpa Jack had only one arm to offer for a hug, but she gladly accepted it. He smell like Old Spice and lawn clippings, just like he always did. But something was different too. He looked older. His shirt seemed to hang on him. His cheeks looked pale. His hair was thinner too.

Ava pressed her lips together. Suddenly the idea of his getting on an airplane and traveling to the other side of the world didn’t seem like a good plan, but she pushed those thoughts down and held on for an extra second. “Oh, you know those coppers in Oregon. They were out in force. I decided to do the speed limit for once.”

She turned to Henry and offered him a hug too. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going. It’s going. Good to see you.” He folded his arms over his barrel chest.

“Still got that candy jar on your coffee table?”

“Yeah, hold on.” He turned.

“No, no. I don’t need any.” Ava laughed. “Just remembering.”

Grandpa Jack handed the clippers to Henry. “You better keep these here. I’m going to be gone for a few weeks, and you might need them while I’m gone.” He cleared his throat.

“Going on a vacation, Jack?” Henry wiped crumbs off the T-shirt stretched over his large belly.

“Yes, uh, just spending time with old friends.”

The way he said the words made Ava look more closely at him. He offered her a quick smile and then averted his gaze. Why hadn’t he mentioned the tour?

“Did you see all the snow still on the mountain?” He pointed to Mount Shasta and the white-capped peak filling the skyline. “Enough for skiing, I’d imagine. Wish the park was still open.”

“You didn’t come up to ski this year, Ava.” Henry butted in. “You always come.”

This time she was the one who averted her gaze. “I’ve been busy at work.” She didn’t want to mention that she’d spent most of ski season planning a wedding.

“Next year, then.”

“Yes, I’ll have to do that.” She looped her hand around her grandfather’s arm. “You have a good evening.”

“Bring back lots of photos!” Henry called after them.

“Sure thing.” She cast one last smile and wave over her shoulder. Her grandfather’s hair was silver and fell into his eyes as he walked. She wondered if she should apologize now—just to be done with it. But, as they walked along together, everything felt like it always had.

“Ready to fly across the deep blue sea?” She took a sip from her now lukewarm coffee.

“I’m all packed. Your mom mailed me a list.”

“What do you think about being back there again, Grandpa?” Ava couldn’t help but ask. His comments would give her an idea of where to start her news features. His feelings about the trip could be a great launching point to pull viewers into the emotion of the experience. Ava made a note to contrast their former strength with their weakness now.
Even with shaky steps they still walk with pride.

Her grandfather shrugged, but he didn’t slow his steps. “Never thought it would happen. The day I stepped off foreign soil, I thought I’d never return. I almost decided not to go. Then I got to wondering. If I wanted to see the place again, now was the time. Some of the guys are old. They might croak soon.” He winked. Yet even though he was trying to play it off as a joke, she could see the pain in his eyes.

“That’s sad—to lose your friends.”

“It’s a part of life, Ava.”

“Yes, I know it’s part of life, but at least they died knowing their efforts changed the world.”

He nodded but didn’t answer, and the way he rolled his eyes told her it sounded like a lot of fluff to him.

“Your mom said you’re making this a work trip.” His curtness took her by surprise.

She slowed her steps and looked over at him. His eyes were fixed ahead. Even from the side his frown was evident.

“I don’t think the guys will like having a camera in their face the whole time.”

“But they have to know this is a special event.”

“It was just part of life. We did what we had to do. You can find some other way to do your work without making a show of my friends.”

She tightened her grip on the handle of the mug. She hadn’t thought about Grandpa and the other guys not being excited about being filmed. She just assumed they would be. She placed a hand over her stomach as the burger she’d eaten near the Oregon border grew into a boulder in her gut. She hadn’t prayed for months, but now seemed like a good time to start.

“Grand-Paul loves telling his stories. Personally, I think he’s going to be excited, don’t you?” She forced a smile, as if doing so would keep her plans—her job—from crumbling around her.

“That’s right. You called him Grand-Paul that summer,” he said, not answering her question.

“Grand
pa Pa
ul is like a tongue twister. We just shortened it.”

With the mention of that summer, a hundred memories filled Ava’s mind, and her heart warmed.
My first love.
She thought about those days, the perfect summer, more often than she wanted to admit.

She didn’t need to descend into those
I wishes
and
what-ifs
again. This was about her grandfather and her job. And getting her grandpa to let her do her job. Maybe if she knocked the videos out of the park, Todd would let her travel to other places, tackle other stories. It would be better than checking off tasks and living alone in a condo designed for two.

“Let me just take my coffee cup in the house, and then we’ll go for a spin,” she said.

“Just leave the cup on the porch. No one will bother it there.” He waved a hand at her.

Ava took a sip of the coffee and then set down the cup. Her grandfather’s roses—already in bloom on the bush near the porch—filled the air with their sweet scent.

Grandpa Jack waited by the car.

“Here, let me get that stuff out.” Ava unlocked the car with the click of a button and then grabbed the video camera case and tripod, moving them to the trunk.

He stood by the passenger door without getting in, and he pointed to her camera. “Is that the only reason you came, Ava?” His white eyebrows folded down.

“Of course not.”

Grandpa Jack opened the door. “Good, then you don’t have to worry about the video. You can tell your work that you decided not to do it.”

Ava paused at his statement. Her stomach tightened. Suddenly her neck ached and a headache pounded—a headache she was sure hadn’t been there a minute before.

She put the equipment in the trunk and slammed it shut and then tried to calm her breathing as she walked to the driver’s seat. Grandpa Jack was already buckled in. Ava started the car and pulled out, waving to various neighbors as she drove by at the posted five miles an hour. The sign also read Children at Play, even though there hadn’t been any children living in this park for quite some time.

“Did you watch the DVD I sent, you know, of our morning talk show? I thought you’d like seeing what I did. And seeing how important my work is. With these videos, the story of your division will be told all over the Northwest. Isn’t that great?”

“I don’t have a DVD player.”

Ava’s fists tightened around the steering wheel. She pushed out a slow breath. They’d have more time to talk about her work later. More time to get him to understand how important this was.

She tried to weave around the potholes, but there were too many. The car rocked as she drove through them. Her heart sank at the realization that making things right with him wouldn’t be easy. She’d thought that even if he wasn’t thrilled that she was the one coming, he’d at least be excited that his division was getting the honor they deserved at the liberation ceremony at Mauthausen concentration camp.

“Grandpa? Are you feeling okay? Do you—”

“I’m hungry, that’s all.” He stared out the window at the mountain. “I—I just want a piece of pie. Can’t a man have pie when he wants? Why does everyone have to make a big deal outta nothin’?”

Chapter Five

Ava wrapped her arm around her grandfather’s thin waist as they exited Charles de Gaulle Airport. Above her, the Parisian sky held no hint of clouds, and with her free hand she slid her sunglasses from where they rested on top of her head onto the bridge of her nose. She scanned the horizon, hoping to spot the top of the Eiffel Tower, but she couldn’t see it from where she was. Behind her, the wheels of the luggage cart squeaked as an airport attendant followed them, pushing the cart with their suitcases and her camera equipment.

Grandpa Jack leaned close to her ear. “Paris, Ava gal.” His eyes were bright despite the weariness on his face. Yet though his words chirped and lilted, like the birds flitting around the overhang near the exit door, her grandfather’s body trudged forward with weariness.

“That’s right, Grandpa.” She squeezed his waist. “You’ll be the perfect tour guide.”

Ava took in a deep breath of muggy air and took in the blur of all the people, cars, and planes.

Paris.

The city had piqued Ava’s interest from the time she was five and overheard conversations spoken in hushed tones at the kitchen table. Stories of American tanks and GIs fighting against Nazi soldiers. For her grandpa, it had all started in France.

She’d imagined France being a horrible dark place until she got to Mrs. Garret’s art class in ninth grade. The teacher said Paris brimmed with architecture, culture, and amazing food. Maybe the contrast of what Paris was, and what it had become during World War II—a city occupied by the enemy—intrigued her the most. Like a dragon taking over a fairy-tale castle, Hitler had conquered the wonderland.

Yes, she’d made it there, but not like she’d imagined. On this trip, there would be no romantic strolls through Parc Monceau or candlelight dinners at midnight. If the walk through the airport was any indication of what was to come, she’d be seeing Europe at half-speed.

She clung tightly as she supported her grandfather, who took slow, deliberate steps. She was still not used to how unsteady he was on his feet. She was used to his being the one who strode around the mobile home park, or pushed a mower, or climbed up onto his roof to clean the gutters. She hoped that his sluggishness was due to the plane ride and nothing more. She didn’t like to see him like this. He stumbled slightly and his hand grabbed hers.

“Doing okay?” Ava asked as respectfully as she could.

“Darn airplane seats,” Grandpa Jack mumbled. “Don’t they know what legroom is?” He tipped his Eleventh Armored Division cap farther down over his eyes, squinting against the sun and forcing a smile. “My legs feel as if they’ve been shoved into my chest for the last eight hours.”

Ava chuckled as she helped to steady him. “Watch your step, Grandpa. Let’s get you out of the sun. In fact, why don’t you wait in the shade while I get a taxi?” She helped him back and then motioned to the airport attendant to stay with him. She’d always wanted to ride the Paris metro, but that wouldn’t happen today. Even though the taxi would be ten times more expensive, they were having a hard enough time making it down the sidewalk. She couldn’t imagine trying to maneuver her grandfather around busy, bustling people—getting on and off the metro, shouting at her in a different language—and managing their luggage too. She moved to the curb. The taxi stand on the island seemed a hundred miles away.

The name of their hotel was written on a piece of paper in her sweater pocket. Ava patted it for reassurance. She didn’t speak French, and she hoped the hotel’s name would be enough to get them there.

Ava moved toward the line of taxis and then paused. Parked a mere ten feet away was a large black car. Next to the door stood a tall man sporting dark sunglasses. He held a sign with her grandfather’s name written on it. She didn’t remember the tour information saying anything about an airport shuttle, but who else would have her grandfather’s name on a sign?