Page 50 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
Gran reached out and patted his hair when he climbed intothe driver’s seat and started the ignition. “Such a handsome boy,” she said. “Sucha pretty face.”
Christopher rolled his eyes, but a smile bloomed up from hisheart. “You sure you don’t want me to break you out for good, Gran? Head out onthe open road? Go see New York City? How about we get a plane to Hawaii?”
“P’shaw, you’re ridiculous. I’m too old for all that. Justtake me to the dam and I’ll be happy.”
“If you’re sure.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure. But that reminds me—when I die,there’ll be a little bit set aside for you, and I want you to do somethingstupid with it. A trip to Europe or New York or Hawaii. Whatever you do,promiseyou won’t be sensible with it. I didn’t raise youto be boring.”
Christopher smiled. Gran hadn’t raised him at all, actually,though he wished she had. She’d been there for him and made his life marginallyworth living during his hideous teen years. But, for better or worse, he wasSammie Mae’s son, and she and Bob had raised him after Dad had taken off.
“I promise, Gran. Something stupid. It’s a deal.”
As he pulled into traffic he pondered how odd it was that hedidn’t consider himself James Ryder’s son, not the way he considered himselfSammie Mae’s. He guessed it was hard to feel like a man was your father when heleft and took up with another woman—or other women, as it turned out with hisfather. Christopher had three half-siblings through his father’s affairs andmarriages, but he didn’t keep up with either of them. If they ever came lookingfor him, he supposed he’d be open to knowing them, but as it was, they werejust people who shared his DNA.
“I’ll have the Big Mac,” Gran said when they reached thedrive through. “And don’t forget Edna’s fries. And get her an apple pie too.She needs to eat more. She’s too skinny.”
Christopher placed the order and tried to fight off herattempt to pay, but finally let her, knowing it made her feel moreself-sufficient to pick up the bill.
As she folded her dollar bills back into her snap-claspchange purse, she said, “Okay, so that’s taken care of. Now, to the dam. Andturn on the radio. Play it loud. Something good, mind you. Not that junk theycall music nowadays.”
Christopher got back onto the road, fiddling with radiountil he found a station playing a Perry Como song. Gran leaned back in herseat, the seat belt cutting up close to her neck since she was so shrunken, andsang along, her voice warbling and barely staying on pitch.
Christopher let her drift with the music, driving carefullyon the winding roads until he broke out onto a main street leading to the parkingarea near the dam. He wondered if Jesse had a grandmother still alive, and, ifnot, what his relationship had been like with her when she’d been alive. Givenwhat he’d said about his parents, Christopher didn’t imagine he’d been veryclose to his grandparents, and the thought made him sad. Everyone deserved aGran.
“So, tell me about him,” she said several minutes later,chewing her Big Mac and gazing out at the water from the car. They’d rolleddown the windows, and a fresh breeze blew.
“Who?”
“You know damn well who, Christopher Alan Ryder. You can’tfool your Gran. You’ve got the air of a man with someone on his mind.”
“Gran, that’s ridiculous. You can’t tell something like thatjust by looking at me.”
“You’re calling your Gran a liar?”
“Of course not.”
“So is it just sex?”
Christopher choked on his burger and sucked his soda as hesputtered. “What?”
“You heard me. You think I don’t know what kids are liketoday? I know. I watch the reality programs.”
“Gran, I’m not a kid and, no, it’s not about sex.”At least I hope not.“Probably.”
“Ha! What’s his name?”
Christopher felt his cheeks get hot, and he rolled his eyes,feigning more annoyance than he felt. “Jesse.”
“Not that Gareth, then? The blacksmith I met at SmokyMountain Dreams the last time you took me.”
“No.”
Gran’s eyes narrowed and studied him. “He was something toyou, though?”
“For a night.”
“See? I know kids today. All about sex.”
