Page 46 of Grounded
Late that afternoon, Beulah poured hot water into the teapot and called for Annie. Her grandchild was deep into one of Janice Holt Giles’s books, a local author who wrote about the Kentucky frontier, long since dead. The back porch had become Annie’s favorite reading place when she wasn’t busy working around the house or outbuildings.
“I wanted to talk to you before I go in for this surgery tomorrow. Sit down here a minute.”
Her granddaughter sat down, a serious look on her face.
“I want to make sure you know how things stand if something happens to me tomorrow,” Beulah started.
“Oh, Grandma, nothing is going to happen to you. It’ll be fine!”
Beulah covered Annie’s hand with her own. “It probably will be, but we need to have this talk anyway. There’s a lockbox under my bed behind the shotgun. The key to it is taped inside my medicine cabinet door. A copy of the will and all my account numbers and life insurance policy are in there—everything you need to know when I die to handle all the paperwork.”
“Grandma, you’re not going to die.”
“Maybe not this time, but if we have this conversation now, it will make it easier on you when I do go. It may not be tomorrow, but it will be someday.” Beulah took a drink of her tea while Annie sat quietly, waiting.
“I’m leaving ten percent of my estate to the church. There should be more than enough cash in the life insurance policy to handle that. The rest will go to you, including the farm. It’s all paid for, and I’ve squirreled away a nice sum down at the bank. It doesn’t provide much cash flow for running the farm, but Joe pays a good amount for the lease in January, and between my social security and interest on the CDs, I’ve been able to manage. The farm will be yours to do whatever you wish with it.” Beulah smoothed out the wrinkles in the orange apron. “Of course, I would love for you to keep the farm and live on it, but I know that’s unlikely. If you decide to sell it, it would be my preference that you give Jake a fair price on it and first option. If Jake turns it down, I’d like you to offer it to Joe and Betty next. If neither family wants it, you are free to sell it to whoever you wish at whatever price you wish.”
“I had no idea how much history was here. I mean, I’ve been to the cemetery a hundred times, read the names on the stones, but somehow I never connected it all.”
“I’d love to see you keep it, of course. But if you marry a man you meet up North, it’s likely he would rather have the cash so you can buy something there. And it’s hard to maintain a farm when you’re not here to see after it. Joe or Jake might be glad to farm it for you, but it won’t be the same as having someone live here.”
Annie was quiet the rest of the night, and Beulah was sorry to have laid such heavy talk on her. It had to be done sooner than later, and the surgery tomorrow was a good reason to do it sooner.
Beulah readied herself for bed, pulling on her nightgown and opening up her Bible to read after she pulled the covers around her. After a bit she closed the book, set it on the nightstand, and turned off the bedside lamp.
In the dark, her mind went over a verse she memorized as a child, First Peter 5:7:Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you.Meditating on that sweet thought, she fell asleep.
Chapter Nineteen
The night before her grandmother’s surgery, a strange unease permeated Annie’s soul. The depth of her own self-centeredness settled full upon her like a heavy storm cloud. Sleep came with disturbing dreams.
There was her grandfather working in the fields. He was hoeing between rows of tobacco, and the sweat rolled off his face and arms in stringing beads that dropped to the ground. On the rich black dirt, the sweat turned to trickling streams of blood filling the furrow between the tobacco plants. It flowed down the hill into Gibson Creek, where it turned back to water, rushing over rocks and around the creek bend until it disappeared beyond sight, beyond the farm.
Then, she was with her grandmother in front of the old stone house. Her mother was there for a moment, but then she left the ground, floating toward heaven like a balloon, her feet dangling. Annie reached for her, grabbing her feet and holding on as hard as she could. Her mother was telling her to let go, pointing to her grandmother who was now leaving the ground. Annie ran to her and held her, and when the alarm went off at four in the morning, she was hugging the pillow tight with both arms.
Annie slid out of the bed and onto her knees beside her nightstand. With a heavy heart, she prayed to the God of her childhood:
Lord, please forgive me. I have gone my own way these many years. Please make me a new person…
It was still dark outside as Annie helped her grandmother to the car and then slid into the driver’s seat. They were silent most of the way, neither of them morning people, before Annie finally broke the silence.
“Grandma, I’m sorry I haven’t been around much these last few years.”
“Oh, that’s all right. When you raise children, you expect them to leave the nest at some point.”
“I know, but I could have visited more. I think for a while I was running away from the grief of losing Mom and even Grandpa. I’m sorry I haven’t been around for you.”
“You’re here now, and this is when I need you the most. Let’s not dwell on things we can’t change.”
Annie felt warmth spread over her heart for the second time this morning and knew that all was well. Something was different now, with her grandmother and with God. There would be more visits to her grandmother even when she went back to New York. There was no reason she couldn’t hop flights to Lexington anytime she wanted.
“Here we are,” she said, pulling up to the hospital.
They spent the next hour filling out paperwork and getting Beulah moved back to the surgery preparation area, where she changed into a hospital-issued gown. Her clothes and personal belongings were put into a plastic bag with her name and room number. A nurse recorded her vital signs and started an IV. They waited in silence under the bright fluorescent light of the pre-op room, tucked behind a flimsy privacy curtain. Annie sat in a molded plastic chair next to the mobile bed Beulah was lying on under blankets and a sheet.
The curtain shifted, and Scott Southerland moved inside the tentlike room.
“Land sakes, what in the world are you doing up here? And you, not even my own preacher?”
