Edna in the Desert (20 page)
She’d transformed her corner of the pantry into a cozy nest, and her collections of rocks and weathered glass sat on the windowsill and the shelf below it. She was going to leave them there. It was hard to believe this was the same place she’d at first so despised. She was almost finished packing when she felt Grandma lingering in the doorway. It wasn’t like Grandma to linger; she usually either went in or out.
“Hi Grandma.”
Grandma had something in her hand, a stack of papers tied with faded ribbon. She sat on the cot and watched Edna pack. There was a quiet intimacy about packing. Edna’s mother always watched her pack whenever she was going anywhere. Mostly Jill was checking on what clothes Edna was bringing, but it was more than that. She was holding onto their final moments together.
“Edna, Zeke and I wrote these letters, starting when I was just a little older than you are, when I went away to summer camp and then when he was in the service. You can borrow them, if you promise to give them back. And not to let your father see them.”
Grandma had the faintest smile.
“I won’t. I’d love to read them.”
“You take your time.”
“OK.”
Grandma went to get them some iced tea.
Most people who were nice were also friendly, but Grandma was only nice. It was important to know this about her. She was actually nicer than many people who were both nice and friendly, so it was worth getting past the unfriendly part. Grandma had helped Edna all summer through the saga of Johnny. She didn’t pry or treat Edna too much like a child, with the exception of chaperoning the drive-in movie like they were living in the 1900s. Edna was dying to see her grandparents’ letters, but she didn’t want to spend her last moments at the cabin absorbed in reading. She saw a little card addressed to her under the ribbon. She’d just read the one thing.
Dear Edna,
I hope you enjoy these and get to know your grandpa through them.
You’re so young that I thought it would be good for you to keep in mind this quote: “It is a mistake to try to look too far ahead. The chain of destiny can only be grasped one link at a time.” Winston Churchill.
With love, Grandma Mary
Edna welled up, hopefully for the last time of the summer. Grandma was such a different woman than the one who struck the terrifying silhouette on the porch when Edna was brought here against her will two months ago. Edna sincerely hoped that she was also a different woman, and she knew that in hoping so, she probably was. She was glad Grandma had a phone, even though she wasn’t likely to be the most talkative on it. Maybe they could write letters to each other. Winston Churchill was last on Edna’s list of things to look up. She had plenty of research to do when she got home and questions for her father, and she planned to ask them before she fully assimilated back into her world. It would be a while before this summer left her.
She brought out another chair and sat with Grandma and Grandpa on the porch, watching the invisible balls of wind roll along the tips of the creosote bushes. Her parents weren’t coming for another hour. She wished she’d brought out a third chair a long time ago, but it was nice that they were there together now. In any case, Edna knew she’d be coming back to the desert.
END
My heartfelt thanks go to Jesse Greever and Christopher Dixon of eLectio publishing, and to my generous friends and colleagues: Phyllis Azar, Lisa Gallagher, Jason Rice, Reagan Arthur, Daniel Graf, Stephen Visakay, Isa Loveless, Jacey Davidson and Jillian Steinhauer for their precious time, encouragement, thoughts and advice. Big thanks also to Tim Sheard and Jim Kaplan of the National Writers Union. I couldn't have written this book without the love and support of my husband and my family or without spending time in the magical Mojave Desert.
Maddy Lederman lives in Brooklyn, New York, and works in the art department for films and TV shows. She loves to travel, hike, drive, go out to eat and be in the desert.
You can see what she is up to at
maddylederman.com
