At What Price?

AT WHAT PRICE?

Penny Estelle

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Editor in chief: Nik Morton

Cover Art:
Select-O-Grafix, LLC. www.selectografix.com

Publisher’s Note:

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are the work of the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events is coincidental.

Solstice Publishing - www.solsticepublishing.com

Copyright 2012 Penny Estelle

Dedication

I want to dedicate this story to all seven of my grandchildren. They are the reason I can write about the unconditional love shared between Rio and her grandmother.

ONE

She was coming. Dust from the dirt road on the upper ridge swirled, following her car. I turned to make my way back to the old porch swing to wait, wondering what this confrontation would bring. Bile rose up in my throat and my body shivered, dreading what I knew was coming.

It seemed like only yesterday when the phone call came that would change my life forever.

The bedside phone rang on July 14, 1999. It was 6:30 in the morning. “Mrs. Gardner?” asked a female, with a touch of annoyance.

“Yes?”

“You don’t know me, but my name is Shannon Harmon and occasionally I watch your daughter’s little girl, Rio.”

I sat straight up in bed. “Yes, I see. Is something wrong?”

“Yea, there’s something wrong,” Shannon Harmon snapped. “Your daughter dropped this kid off here
four
days ago. Rio was supposed to stay a few hours! She finally called me this morning and tried giving me another of her excuses. I told her my next action was to call the police and she begged me to call you instead.”

My heart sank. “Where are you calling from?”

“Houston, TX,” she replied.

“Texas?” I gasped. “I’m in Arizona. What can I do?”

“I really don’t know or care!” she barked. “This kid is
not
my responsibility and she is not staying another night.”

My stomach churned. “Please don’t call the police. Just let me think for a minute.”

“Look, Mrs. Gardner, sorry I snapped, but your daughter is strung out on something. She simply doesn’t deserve this sweet, little girl.”

I wanted to say
maybe something is wrong
,
or
maybe she’s hurt somewhere
,
but deep down I knew this woman was right. Instead, I said, “I’ll make a plane reservation for her. I realize it’s asking a lot, but could you possibly drive Rio to the airport in Houston?”

“Yes, I can do that.” Shannon Harmon gave me her phone number and I promised to call her back within the hour.

A reservation was made for that same day to leave Houston at 11:30 a.m. and arrive in Phoenix at 1:50 p.m. Ms. Harmon assured me Rio would be there in plenty of time to catch the flight.

Phoenix was three hours away. A million things had to be done before picking up a six-year-old to stay with me for a while. Questions ran through my mind. Where would she sleep? What can I tell her about her mom? Was there any food in my cupboards that a child would eat? All those questions would have to wait and I went off to get dressed.

The drive to Sky Harbor Airport was only a vague memory, but the waiting at gate C9 and the events of that day are still crystal-clear. Security had given me special permission to go directly to the gate because, after all, I was picking up an unaccompanied child. A six-year-old little girl – my granddaughter, Rio.

****

The last time I had seen Rio was four years ago. Sam, my husband, and I were just coming home from the grocery store. Sitting on our porch swing was our daughter, Lacey, with a little girl sitting next to her. Lacey had gotten pregnant the end of her senior year in high school. We were informed that Lacey and her boyfriend would be moving to California right after graduation to live with his family. We hadn’t seen her since; though we had gotten word through the grapevine that Lacey had given birth to a daughter.

Lacey gave Sam and me a quick hug and introduced us to two-year-old
Rio.

“Kat,” Sam said, using his nickname for me, “our baby is home.” He hunkered down in front of the little girl. “And she has brought a little princess with her.”

Rio was dressed in pink pants and a long sleeved shirt with pink and purple flowers. Green, plastic flip-flops adorned her feet and short blonde, wild curls escaped a black headband, bouncing to just past her ears.

Lacey’s blond hair was pulled into a ponytail. She wore a gray sweatshirt and skintight Levis. She was thinner than I remembered – much thinner.

I sat down next to my granddaughter. “Rio, what a pretty name.” I looked at Lacey. “Where did you come up with such a unique name?”

“Huh? Oh, a song I heard on the radio. Rio, dancing in the sand… or something like that.”

Lacey seemed so distracted. “Honey is everything all right?” I asked.

Bursting into tears, she said there was an emergency of some sort. She would be gone only two or three days at most and begged us to please baby-sit.

She came back three weeks later, eyes sunken in and looking like death. While I held Rio in my arms, Lacey and Sam had a horrible fight. “You have a baby, Lacey, a responsibility!” he yelled.

“Was she too much for you to handle, Dad? Jesus Christ, so I was gone longer than I thought. It’s not like you and Mom have anything to do anyway.”

He was right back in her face. “It has nothing to do with that and you know it. We didn’t know if you were alive or dead!” Sam burned with anger.

“Well, stop the celebration, ’cause as you can see, I’m alive and well.” Lacey grabbed Rio’s things and stuffed them in her bag.

“Stop it!” I cried, to no avail.

“This is what you call well?” Sam said, his voice full of sorrow. “Your eyes look like you haven’t slept in days. It’s obvious you’re doing drugs.” He grabbed Lacey’s arm to swing her around to face him. “In fact, you look like hell.”

“Shut up!” Lacey screamed. “I needed something to get me through coming back here. I
hate
it here!” She snatched Rio from my arms, promising we would never see either of them again, and left.

I cried for a week straight. Sam tried phoning her but the number we had was disconnected. We sent letters but they were always returned, stamped wrong address.

Sam died the following year of a brain aneurysm. He was only sixty-two and I was fifty-six. We lived in a small two bedroom, two-bath single story house, on a fifty-four acre ranch. It was twenty miles from town and neighbors were scarce. Other than three chickens, the only family I had was Sam, Lacey, and Rio and they were gone.

****

Now, I sat at gate C9, watching as people, one by one, left the plane. My heart was pounding so hard, waiting to catch a glimpse of my granddaughter. The last straggler appeared through the door and I started to panic. What if she missed the plane?

A hand touched my shoulder and I almost jumped out of my skin. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but would you be Katherine Gardner?”

“Yes! I’m supposed to meet my granddaughter!”

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Gardner,” the stewardess said. “Your granddaughter is on the plane. She was afraid to get off. Please come with me and we’ll go get her.”

I followed her down the corridor, wondering what I was about to face.
Would she remember me at all? Had my daughter told her anything about me?

“Hey, Rio, here’s your grandmother,” the stewardess said as we entered the plane.

There sat my Lacey at the age of six. Long, curly messed-up hair, color of sand, with big green eyes. Her face was pale and she looked scared to death. Her bottom lip quivered. “Mimi?” she whispered.

My God, that’s what she called me when she was two! My eyes filled with tears and my throat closed. “Rio,” I croaked.

I sat down and she crawled onto my lap, crying.

I’m not sure how long we sat there before the stewardess cleared her throat, mentioning something about a schedule that needed to be kept.

Nodding my understanding, I wiped my eyes, then Rio’s and, hand in hand, we left the plane and the airport.

****

When she first came to live with me, Rio was a frightened little girl who cringed at every loud noise. She chewed on her fingernails and was terrified to sleep by herself. After two weeks had gone by without hearing from Lacey, I decided school was in order.

We went to the school and, after explaining the situation, I was able to fill out the paperwork. Rio seemed excited about the prospect, but when it was time to take her to class, she was as pale as a hen’s egg and had a death grip on my hand. The fear in her eyes was heartbreaking. I gave some flimsy excuse about school already being in session for the day so we would start fresh tomorrow.

The receptionist said, “It won’t be easier tomorrow. I can assure you, she will be perfectly fine if you allow us to take her to class now.”

This bitch had no heart. “I’m aware and thank you for your concern. We will be back tomorrow.”

I took Rio to the store to buy school supplies and a few new dresses, but she seemed to retreat back to the scared little girl I found in the plane.

At dinner, I talked about the new friends she would meet and all the stuff she would learn in first grade. I was babbling about riding the school bus when she interrupted me.

“Mimi?” she whispered, “where will I go next time if nobody picks me up from school?” She bit her lip, as if to keep it from quivering, and her eyes seemed to fill her entire face.

I pulled my chair next to hers and ran my hand down her mass of tangled curls, physically hurting for my granddaughter. “Rio, as long as you are with me, I will pick you up – always! That’s a promise. I love you and you will always be safe with me.”

The next day, except for normal “first day school jitters”, Rio walked right into class.

It only took a few days and Rio announced she was ready to start riding the bus and she was ready to sleep in her own bedroom. The uphill climb seemed to be leveling a bit.

TWO

It was her eighth birthday. We sat at the table eating breakfast and Rio chattered on and on about her party that was being held that afternoon. She had planned to have Pin the Tail on the Donkey, musical chairs, and a water balloon toss.

Rio looked at the door of the laundry room. “Mimi, what is that noise?”

“What noise?” I asked.

“That! It sounds like something’s scratching on the door.”

“Hmmm. Beats me – maybe you should look.”

She ran over and slowly opened the door. Out bounded a clumsy black Lab puppy I bought for her birthday.

“A puppy! I’ve never had a puppy of my own.” She got down on her knees and was smothered in licks. “I’m naming him Blackie.” She ran to me and gave me a hug.

“Thank you, Mimi. This is the best present I have ever had.”

She had six friends over for her party. A few of the moms stayed, the others promising to be back at 3:00 to pick up their kids. Hot dogs were barbequed
and a Dora the Explorer piñata was smashed to smithereens amid screams of delight as the kids dove for the scattered candy.