Page 15 of Axe Backwards
No matter what we were doing, we’d listen to music. Usually Dolly, but sometimes Tina Turner or Cher.
Aunt Lou closed her eyes and swayed to “Yellow Roses.”
“Such a good fucking song.”
My chest pinched at the genuine peace in her expression. No disease would take her spirit. She’d been doing so well for so long, but now, in her sixties, she needed a lot more help.
“If you won’t talk to me about your health and happiness, how about work?” She moved again, one step closer to checking me.
“What are you doing about the egg shortage?And have you heard back from Feeding America? That grant application was fucking pristine. You are damn good at this.”
Aunt Lou was a true saint. For decades, she’d devoted herself to helping others. She had never met a problem she would not roll up her sleeves and solve, and she loved nothing more than drinking whiskey and swearing like a sailor on shore leave.
I arched a brow. “It’s good to see this place isn’t dimming your shine.”
“You know my favorite word isfuck,” she said as I contemplated my next move. “I’m going nuts here. Everyone is always smiling and the place is so clean and shiny. What am I supposed to do all day?”
We’d been over this many times since she’d moved in. Here, she could live independently but have support and community. “Join the walking club,” I said, like I did every time she asked that question. “Or play bridge. Go to the shopping center. Get your hair done. Isn’t there a community garden here?”
She glared at me. “I miss doing important shit.”
“You still help me with accounting. You still proofread the grant applications. You haven’t been put out to pasture.”
Straightening, she harrumphed. I had her there. She could no longer unload the trucks and be on her feet all day helping clients, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t stay involved.
“Any luck recruiting more volunteers? People around here need to do more. Communities are built on effort and hard work. If we all sat around on our asses, society would crumble.”
She’d been giving this lecture my entire life. No one was more energetic and willing to help than Aunt Lou. In her mind, everyone else should be too.
I nodded. “The high school is giving academic credit for volunteer hours. Several rising seniors are set to do a summer internship.”
Her expression softened a fraction, but she didn’t stop her inquisition. “And diapers? Did the diaper bank in Portland approve our request?”
“Not yet, but I’m optimistic. I’ll have to pay for delivery, but we could receive three times as many as we have been. Other items too. Baby shampoo, more formula. I think it’ll make a big difference.”
Our community needed much more than food. I was grateful for every bruised apple we received, but the need didn’t stop there. Diapers were at the top of our list, as were feminine hygiene products.
“I’ve been thinking about adding a laundry facility,” I said as Lou slid her queen into position.
“Check.” She zeroed in on my face. “How and where?”
“The basement. I’m going hard on larger corporate donors. Hoping I can get some washers and dryers donated.”
She hummed. “It’s a great idea…”
It was, but it would take a lot of work to make it happen. Especially after my strange and unresolved meeting with the Huxleys yesterday.
My busy nighttime babysitting activities had kept me from fretting over the absolute shitshow the whole day had been. And how devastated I’d been when I’d gotten that phone call.
I picked up Lou’s whiskey tumbler and took a long drink. “Alex is pregnant.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. As always, her nails were painted fire-engine red. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
I shook my head.
She covered my hand with hers, her skin papery soft. “I’m so sorry, sweets. Pregnant? The wedding is only a few months away.”
I shook my head. “Mom didn’t call you? They’re moving it up to Memorial Day weekend. She bought a thirty-thousand-dollar dress for Alex and is demanding they get married while it still fits.”
