Tending Roses (29 page)

“I’m sorry.” Karen shrugged. “Habit,” she added and almost looked as though she regretted stirring up discontent. “You’re right. It’s Christmas. I won’t say another unkind word to anybody.”

I chuckled under my breath—I couldn’t help it—and Aunt Jeane did, too. Karen looked sideways at us, then smiled wryly and started washing dishes.

By the time the dishes were finished, we were actually singing along with the Christmas carols on the radio. My father came through the kitchen, seeming a little less irate, but nobody said anything.

The day pretty much passed that way—everybody busying themselves with wrapping presents, baking pies, and making cheese balls and baked goods for Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner. Grandma returned home at midday with a few groceries and some Christmas gifts for Dell. Shortly after, neighbors started stopping by, bringing homemade goodies and small gifts for Grandma. We sat at the table having coffee with one, then the next, laughing and talking, listening to Christmas music crackle on Grandma’s old hi-fi. Grandma hummed along under her breath, laughed, chatted and told stories, looking completely content. I thought of her story about how Christmas had been when she was young and wondered if she was thinking of those old times now.

The angst that Aunt Jeane had been worried about evaporated as the day continued. Even Karen and my father seemed to enjoy socializing and sampling the home-baked goods. Grandma had brought Ozark cider from the store, so we brewed a pot and served it to everyone as they came and went.

By late afternoon, the sky was beginning to darken and the wind was rising. Grandma shooed the men off to get the old flatbed farm truck for Christmas tree hunting as the last round of neighbors finished their cider.

“We’d best go out and get a tree before the snow,” she said.

Aunt Jeane shook her head. “Mother, the snow is north of here. They just said so on the weather report.”

“My knees have been predicting snow for sixty years longer than that weatherman on Channel Five has been alive,” Grandma repeated her litany from days before. “I know when snow is coming.”

“All right, Mother. Let me round up some old quilts for the back of the truck.”

Ben stepped in the door and clapped his hands together in the doorway, drawing everyone’s attention. “Well, is everyone ready to go find a tree? The Vongortler farm chariot awaits. Wear warm clothes. It’s getting blustery out there.” He winked at Grandma. “Smells like snow’s comin’.”

Grandma lifted her chin and shot Aunt Jeane a self-righteous snub. “See.”

“Yes, I see, Mother.”

“I know when snow is coming.”

“Yes, Mother. I’m sure you do.”

In short order, we were all dressed and hoisting Grandma into the front of the truck to cut a Christmas tree before the blizzard. I placed Joshua, dressed in a red snowsuit, in Grandma’s lap, as everyone else climbed onto the flatbed.

Grandma held the door open and looked around the yard, seeming confused. “That ol’ mutt of Dell’s is wandering around by the yard fence. That’s odd that he would come here without her. She never did come by today. You don’t suppose something is wrong, do you?”

“I’m sure they just got busy or had company.” I helped her move her foot onto the floorboard and closed the door. “I’m sure nothing is wrong.” But in the back of my mind I had been wondering about Dell all day. Hardly a day went by now that she didn’t show up at our door.

Grandma frowned, rolling down the window. “Well, they haven’t a phone to call . . .”

“Grandma, it’s Christmas Eve. You shouldn’t be calling, anyway.”

“When we get back, I’ll call Larry Leddy and see if he’s been by their place today. He rents them that old shack, and . . .”

Ben turned the key, and the rest was drowned out by the rumble of the engine. Grandma was still talking and shaking a finger as I climbed into the back of the truck.

“Let’s go tree hunting,” Ben cheered over the engine roar as the truck sputtered forward. Aunt Jeane began a round of Christmas carols, and after a tentative start, we soon all joined in. By the time we had selected and cut an eight-foot-tall cedar from the pasture, we had exhausted our repertoire and were too cold to sing anymore.

The icy weather must have broken the last of the ice around us, because we were laughing and jostling one another as we hauled the enormous tree into the dogtrot and set it up next to the front door. After adding lights, we took the old decorations from the garlands on the banister and hung them carefully on the tree.

Grandma pulled me aside as the others were finishing. “I’ve spoken with Larry Leddy, and he said he was by their house this morning and there didn’t seem to be anyone around the place.”

“What?” I said, only partly listening to her. My mind was occupied with watching Karen hang ornaments and my father try to reengineer the tree lights.

“There’s no sign of anyone around the place. That old granny of Dell’s doesn’t have a car. I just can’t fathom where they are.”

“Maybe a relative came and got them for Christmas.” A pang of concern went through me, too, because I knew Dell had been planning on decorating our tree with us.

“Pppfff!” Grandma spat. “They haven’t anyone, and besides, that old woman doesn’t leave the house. I think we’d better drive over there and see that nothing is wrong.”

“Now?” I asked. “We can’t just drop by someone’s house on Christmas Eve. It’s practically dark outside.”

“Well . . .” She chewed the thought for a moment. “We’ll take one of those cakes. That way if that old woman is home, she’ll just think we’re neighboring.”

“But I—”

“I have to go, else I’ll worry about it all night and I won’t sleep a wink. That old mutt of Dell’s has been scratching around my little house all day like something’s wrong.” She looked out the window. “I don’t see him just now, but he’s been there all day, whining and scratching around.”

I sighed because I knew she was determined, and in the back of my mind, I too wanted to make sure nothing was wrong at Dell’s house. “All right. I’ll get my keys.”

Karen looked up as we started toward the kitchen. “Where are you two going?” She sounded suspicious.

“Just to deliver a cake to Dell’s house,” I said, trying to sound casual so as not to disturb everyone’s Christmas Eve. “We’ll be back in a minute.”

Karen nodded and went back to hanging ornaments. “All right, see you in a bit. Hey, remember these, Aunt Jeane? We made these in Girl Scouts. We couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve years . . .”

I followed Grandma into the kitchen and out the door as Aunt Jeane’s laughter echoed through the house like the warm draft from the glowing hearth.

On the way through the kitchen, Grandma grabbed a gingerbread cake that a neighbor had brought. “We’ll take this. Mrs. Allen will never know.” She slipped on her coat and tucked the gingerbread underneath as if it were contraband.

The wind threw open the door as soon as Grandma turned the handle, and the thrust nearly toppled her onto the floor. Outside, the sky had begun to look ominous.

I caught her as she stumbled backward. “Why don’t you stay here? I can run over there by myself.”

She righted herself, giving me the wooden-Indian look. “You won’t know your way to their house without me.”

“All right,” I said. “Hold on to my arm so you won’t get blown over.” We headed out the door, the wind whipping our coats around us. “This is some wind!” I hollered.

“Storm coming!” she yelled back. “I was certain there was a storm coming!”

Shuddering and shivering, we climbed into the old Buick. Neither we nor the Buick was ready for the sudden burst of arctic winter. Grandma pumped the floorboard with her foot as if to help the engine crank.

The last afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows as we emerged from the shadow of the house. “I hope this wind hasn’t knocked the power out at Dell’s house,” Grandma said, her lips moving in a worried line. “They wouldn’t have a phone to call it in. They could freeze to death on a night like this.”

“Grandma, I’m sure they’re fine.”

“That old house probably has propane radiators anyway, so they won’t be out of heat, even if the electric is out. It’s too cold this evening to be out of heat. Why would that dog be running around scratching on my door all day?”

“Grandma!” I said it louder than I meant to, and she jumped in her seat. Her conjuring was more than I could stand. “We don’t know that anything is wrong. Dell has probably just been home helping her grandmother. Things are probably fine.”

Chin jutting out stubbornly, she gazed out the window as we pulled onto the highway.

“You can wager they don’t even have a detector in that hovel of theirs.” Grandma was determined to break the tranquillity of the evening. “John Morris almost died from that monoxide gas two years ago, and I went to Wal-Mart and got a detector the next day. Dell’s granny is too busy buying cigarettes.”

“Grandma, please.” I was caught between laughing at her and getting ill at the horror of what she was suggesting.

“Well, it’s true,” she muttered, and went back to looking out the window, moving her lips. “Turn here. Mulberry Road.”

The warning came too late and I had to make the turn quickly, causing the car to skid.

“For heaven’s sake, Katie, you’ll run us in the ditch.” She took a death grip on the dashboard. “It’s just two miles up here, past the old school.” She paused, gazing at the side of the road as we descended into the valley of Mulberry Creek. “Oh, this place is horrible. It’s worse than I remembered.”

For once, Grandma was right. Even the golden evening light could not hide the ugliness of Mulberry Road. On either side, the ditches were littered with remnants of trash and rotting furniture, interrupted by narrow gravel driveways leading to trash-filled yards and cracker-box houses on the verge of caving in.

Dell’s house was no better. Despite the howling wind, the odor of trash made my stomach turn as we pulled into the drive. Leaving Grandma in the car, I took the cake and walked slowly to the door.

I knocked, prepared, I hoped, to finally come face-to-face with Granny.

No one answered, and I tried again, so loudly that the entire place seemed to rattle. No answer. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Grandma Rose craning sideways to get her head out the car window.

“Look in and see if there’s anyone inside.” Her shrill voice slashed the stillness like a knife. The dog appeared at the corner of the house, raising his fur at first, then recognizing me and trotting forward. He escorted me as I walked to the front window and peered in. A couple of dim lightbulbs with no shades lit the interior.

The place was surprisingly neat inside—just one ancient couch and chair, an end table, a lamp with a torn shade, and a broken coffee table held up at one end by a stack of magazines. More magazines were stored in one corner of the room in three neat piles, each probably three or four feet high, as if someone had been keeping them there for years. One faded print of a wagon train hung crooked on the wall above the sofa. Other than that, the room was empty except for Dell’s Christmas tree, propped in the corner.

Twisting my face to the left, I peered into the kitchen, not much more than a freestanding sink with two cabinets overhead, a stove on one side, and a squatty round-topped refrigerator on the other. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, which was full of water, as if someone had started to wash the dishes and then been interrupted.

“Well, do you see anyone?” Grandma’s voice from the car startled both me and the dog, and we bumped into each other. Legs tangled, we fell against the door. It gave way under our weight and flew open with a crash, depositing us on the ancient shag carpet.

Any other time, the situation would have been comical. As it was, I stood up with my heart pounding and stared at the bedroom doors, waiting for someone to come out with a shotgun. Rolling to his feet, Rowdy shook off the aftereffects of our encounter, then walked into the living room like a king entering his court.

I was torn between going after him or backing politely out the door. Rowdy disappeared into one of the doors off the living room, and I stood waiting, hoping that was Dell’s bedroom and not Granny’s.

An eternity seemed to pass, and nothing happened. Choking on the scent of mildew and cigarettes, I stepped forward.

“Hello,” I called out, standing in the center of the tiny living room.

No answer. Rowdy came out of one door and trotted into the other, which I could now tell was a bathroom. I stepped sideways and peeked inside. Empty.

“Hello,” I said again, feeling like a cat burglar about to be caught in the act. “Is anybody home? It’s Kate Bowman.” I moved slowly toward the other door, my heart fluttering against my chest. “I just wanted to make sure everything was all right here. . . .”

The bedroom was empty. Bringing a hand to my chest, I paused, took a deep breath, and let my head clear. Moving a step closer, I stood in the doorway and looked around the room, gaping in curiosity at the place where Dell curled up to sleep at night and dreamed dreams of her baby brother living in a perfect house. Just a mattress on the floor with one soiled sheet and a faded comforter thrown over the top. Atop the comforter lay the pink-and-white pajamas she and Grandma Vongortler had gotten from the church. Beside the mattress was a sagging bed, which I assumed belonged to Granny. It and the dresser next to it were strewn with flowered housedresses and slippers. It looked as if someone had been searching for clothing in a hurry.

More confused than ever, I called the dog and started for the front door. At least I was assured that they were not lying in their beds, dead from carbon monoxide poisoning, or freezing from lack of heat. What I didn’t know was where they were, or why Dell hadn’t said anything about going away. Their things were still in the house, so they must be coming back. That, at least, would be comforting to Grandma.