“I know it seems like I’m just being nosey,” Rebecca said. “But really we’re exercising your brain. Did you meet him at the feed store?”
“He would be behind the counter when my father would send me to get things for the farm. He was tall, blond, and had these light blue eyes. He was older than me—that seemed important for some reason. He’d been in the army. In Italy.”
“Good,” Rebecca said. “You’re doing very well.”
“It seemed so romantic. Like something out of a book or a movie.”
My grandmother was silent. I wanted to know what happened, how the marriage ended. I was ready to yell “And…” but Rebecca looked at me and gently shook her head.
A tear might have run down Nana Cole’s cheek, I couldn’t tell without leaning over and gapping at her.
Finally, she said, “He beat me up. A couple of times. The last time I was going to have a baby and… I lost the baby. I couldn’t hide that. How it had happened. I spent almost two weeks in the hospital. My father nearly killed him. When I got out of the hospital, Will had left.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Rebecca said.
Nana Cole seemed to wake up, saying, “Don’t be silly. It was all a very long time ago.”
“And what about your second husband? Henry’s grandfather?”
“Samuel Cole. He was just a boy. I’d been in school with him all along. I knew he’d never hurt me. And he never did.”
“The two of you were happy?”
“Not at the beginning, no. But eventually. Eventually, yes.”
“And your daughter?”
“Yes, I have a daughter.”
“She was born during your second marriage.”
“Yes. After a few years. After things got easier.”
Then she looked at me and asked, “Why do I feel so tired? I’m just talking.”
Rebecca explained, “Your brain has been damaged. Normal routes have been cut off. It’s looking for new ways to get to the information I’m asking for.”
“Is it important I remember everything?”
“No, that’s not the point. We’re teaching your brain to look for new pathways. The more you do it, the easier it becomes. Now, do you remember your first pet?”
Twenty minutes and three barn cats later, Rebecca left. I felt like I should say something to my grandmother about the fact that she’d had a husband who beat her. Something like, ‘I’m sorry that happened to you.’ or ‘That must have been awful.’
I went with, “Do you want some ice cream?”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
I took her to the ice cream stand on Main Street. She got a scoop of locally made blueberry ice cream, while I stuck to chocolate chip. I had a strange feeling, one that took me a few minutes to understand. Empathy? Affection. I was feeling affection. Could I reallylikeher? No, that was not possible.
Seriously, liking her seemed to be a very bad idea, one that I hoped would pass quickly.
Like indigestion.
CHAPTER FIVE
Sunday morning, I padded downstairs still in my pajamas thinking I might make pancakes from a mix I’d bought, and found Nana Cole dressed in a tweedy skirt and a peach sweater set. That was weird.How’d she even do it?
I was about to grill her on that point, when she said, “Go back upstairs and get dressed.”
