Page 59 of Adam's Rising

She was dressed — technically. One of her many housecoats, as she called them. But Grams wouldn’t walk out of the house without pants, a proper shirt, and real shoes, a touch of powder on her nose, and at least a dab of lipstick.

Claire exhaled. “Thank you, Grams.”

Claire followed her out of the kitchen and darted into her bedroom, anxious to get ready and out the door before Lala showed.

For the first time in two years, Claire was thankful that Lala had never been taught the concept that it was rude to make others wait.

Claire had been late to school more times than she could count. It had gotten so bad that she’d made a habit of moving the clocks forward so Lala’s fashionably late ten minutes turned into Claire making it to homeroom by the skin of her teeth.

* * *

In the Cherokee,driving toward Clara Mae’s ranch, Claire tried to find a way to explain to Grams without revealing too much about Adam and Peter — and Thomas.

The vinyl seat crinkled when Grams turned sideways in the passenger seat. “Spill.”

Claire kept her eyes forward, but peeked at her grandmother. “Spill?”

“That’s the shortened version ofSpill the Beans, Claire-bear.”

Claire laughed. “I’ve heardSpill. I’ve just never heard you say it. Sounds kinda trendy for my seventy-six-year-old grandmother.”

“Old?” Grams shrugged. “I’m not old — your parents were old. I’ve always been hip. It’s because I keep up with what the people are doing on my SOAPS.”

Claire could see that. But she decided to tease her, subtly reminding her that she had dirt on her. “You sure it wasn’t one of yourTrue Confessionsmags?”

“Claire Harper! Even though you’re driving, I can still say,turn this Jeep around, you know.”

Claire made a motion of zipping her lip. She wasn’t supposed to talk about the saucy mags stuffed in the side of Grams’s La-Z-Boy.

“So?” Grams pressed. She loved a good mystery almost as much as her SOAPS. While she said Jim Rockford was cute, she always ended with,but I wouldn’t lend him a dollar.

“I need you to help me enroll a boy in school,” Claire spat out the most honorable request first.

Unlike a lot of Alaskans, who treated their kids like hired help, requiring them to do chores sunup to sundown, preparing for the winter, Grams believed in education.

“How old is the boy?”

Bingo! Claire had her. She wouldn’t get involved with a child, but a teenager…

“He’s fourteen, the youngest Belgarde. His parents died, the same day mine did. How weird is that?”

“Very weird,” Grams agreed.

“Anyway…” She couldn’t talk about Thomas’s death, so she said, “His brother has to work and is only sixteen…”

Claire could see from the corner of her eye that she’d captured her grandmother’s complete attention again. “A sixteen-year-old is taking care of a fourteen-year-old?”

“Not really…” Claire faltered, then remembered, “Clara Mae was good friends with their parents, so she’s taken them in.” Which was the truth.

“Okay?”

“Still… You know how Clara Mae is.”

“I do.”

Claire didn’t have to see her grandmother roll her eyes. Grams had known Clara Mae since she was a child. Although Clara Mae had spent most of her life with her parents in Texas, she spent holidays and summers in Wasilla at her grandparents’ ranch.

“So, it’s not like we’re doing anything bad, but there’s no parent around to make certain the kid gets an education. His brother wants him to finish, but he knows if he shows up alone it will raise red flags. He doesn’t want the state to step in.”

---