Message Received (2 page)

She managed to find her voice and folded her
arms across her chest.  “Do you have any idea where your grandfather might have
taken my grandmother?”

He narrowed his eyes and gave a humorless
laugh.  “Perhaps you could tell me where your grandmother might have taken my
grandfather?”

Amanda scoffed.  “Are you suggesting my
grandmother…?”  Her worlds trailed off in unveiled disbelief. 

Her grandmother would have never done anything
as irresponsible as running off, had she not been under the influence of
another resident.  Was Brady’s grandfather a con man?  A sweet-talking lothario
intent on getting his hands on her money?  Well, he was in for a surprise.  She
didn’t have any.

Oh, heaven help them
. 

“If he harms a hair on my grandmother’s head…”
she warned, piercing him with a cold stare.

“If your grandmother married my grandfather at
some drive-thru wedding chapel, I’ll...”  He let the words hang in the air, as
he glared at her.

Both remained locked in a form of visual mortal
combat.  Mrs. Williams hurriedly interceded.  “Look, we don’t know who
influenced whom, of if indeed anyone influenced anyone.  All we know is, that
they’ve run off.”

Amanda gave a mortified groan.  “
Run off
? 
Run off to do
what
?”

Mrs. Williams shrugged.  “I … have no idea.”

“Did you call my mom,” Amanda asked wearily.

Liz recently listed you as her emergency contact
person, in place of your mother,” the director told her.

“And … my grandfather listed me, rather than my
parents?” Brady asked, clearly perplexed.

“Yes.  Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, but Granddad did call me yesterday, asking
me to visit,” he related.

“My grandmother called me too,” Amanda
remembered.   “But I couldn’t get away from work.  We have to find them,” she
declared, wringing her hands.

Suddenly, her cell phone buzzed.  She checked
the screen and gasped.  “I just got a text message from my grandmother!  I
didn’t know she knew how to send a text.”

Brady abruptly pulled his phone from his pocket
and checked the screen.  “It’s Granddad!  I didn’t know he had a cell phone.”

“Come to Sunnyside Park—to the roses,” they read
aloud and in unison.

After a pause, Brady asked, “What is this
about?”

Amanda gave a shrug.  “I don’t know.”

They both turned to the director, who shook her
head in response.  “I have no idea either.  I’m just glad they’re apparently
okay.”

Both Amanda and Brady nodded.  She was right. 
If they were sending text messages, they were presumably okay.  But what the
heck was going on?

Amanda sought Brady’s eyes.  She could see that
like her, he was worried sick about his elderly relative.  She found herself
incrementally less frustrated with him.  It wasn’t his fault his granddad had
pulled this stunt.

“We have to sort this out.  I’m going to head
over to the park,” she announced.  “You’re welcome to join me.”

He watched her briefly, checked his watch, and
then gave a sigh.  “I’ll drive.”

Liz Sanders sent a worried glance at Ike
McKinney.  The older couple were presently sitting in the front seat of Ike’s
1992 Oldsmobile.  They were parked on the north side of Sunnyside Park, in an
obscure spot behind a couple of evergreen trees. 

“Do you see the kids?” Liz asked.                         

Ike lowered his binoculars.  “Not yet.  They’ll
be here,” he said, though he wondered if it was wishful thinking on his part. 
Would his hard-headed grandson actually show up?  The kid was so focused on his
job, it wouldn’t surprise him a bit that he’d sent someone in his stead when
he’d received the call from the center.

“What if they don’t come?” Liz asked worriedly. 
“Your grandson didn’t return your last phone call,” she reminded him.

Ike gave a shrug.  This younger generation
couldn’t be counted on for much of anything.  Most had abandoned real,
honest-to-goodness interaction in favor of anonymous, new-fangled, techno
communication.  If they didn’t want to talk to someone, they didn’t have to. 
Calls went to voice mail, to be dealt with later—or not at all. 

In his day, a person had to actually pick up the
phone to know who was on the other end of the line.  Of course, people of his
generation knew how to talk to one another.  They also knew that words had
power—and were therefore, much more careful with them.  They understood that
words, once said, couldn’t be taken back.  And by gosh, if they had something
important to say, they said it face-to-face—prepared to face any consequences. 
Not so the kids today.  They hid behind their gadgets.

He was still astounded that Brady had recently
learned of the end of his long-term relationship via a text message from his
girlfriend.  What kind of a woman broke up with someone via a text?  It was the
coward’s way out, as far as Ike was concerned. 

For a smart kid, that Brady could sure pick ‘em,
he thought sarcastically, as he ran a hand through his still-thick grey hair. 
It was a shame too, since he was a good man—had sound values.  He deserved a
good, loving woman in his life. 

“Oh, Ike, I think I see them!” Liz said eagerly,
pointing off into the distance.

He followed her directions and sure enough,
spotted his grandson standing beside a young woman.  He recognized the pretty
girl from her rare visits to her grandmother.  She seemed to be a nice enough
girl, but he couldn’t help be disappointed with her for her apparent disregard
for her grandmother.  Liz was a wonderful person, loving and kind, and deserved
better than to be warehoused and forgotten by loved ones.

He knew Liz was hurt with the girl for her
infrequent visits.  She often made excuses for her, insisting she had an
important job that required her undivided attention, just as he was forever
making excuses for his own absent family members. 

He turned his attention to Brady again.  Good
looking kid.  Reminded him of himself as a young man.  Tall, could have a bit
of a swagger under certain circumstances, but was so serious most of the time. 
Frankly, the kid needed to let loose and have a good time on occasion.  He was
so hell-bent on growing that company of his that he hardly ever made time for
himself, or others.  He was going to burn out by the time he reached forty if
he wasn’t careful.

“Ike, what if they spot us?” Liz worried aloud.

“They won’t,” he assured her.  “I intentionally
parked way over here, since the rose garden is across the way.”

“Do you think this is going to work?” she asked
him then.

He only shrugged.  “It’s hard to say.  They’re
both a couple of hard-headed kids, focused on their jobs…”

“A work ethic
is
a good thing,” she
pointed out.

He nodded.  “Within reason.”  He was silent for
a moment, but roused himself.  “I had the same work ethic as Brady, and I
hardly knew his father—my son.  Nor did I know my own daughter.”  He gave a
weary sigh.  “It wasn’t until I had a grandson and actually had time to spend
with him that I realized I hadn’t made the time to enjoy my own children.  I
chose work over them every time.” 

He scrubbed a hand across his face and Liz saw
that his eyes had clouded.  She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. 
She knew he was distraught about the reality that work had come first for him. 
She also knew he was nearing the end of his life and hated that he had no
discernible relationship with either one of his children, since each had
followed the ‘work first’ model set by him.  Work first, family second.  It was
his biggest regret—that’d he set such a horrible example.   

Well, he wasn’t about to let Brady live the same
life.  He loved him too much for that.  He was going to assure his only
grandson understood what was really important in life.  People were important. 
Not things. 
People
.

Ike smiled into Liz’s eyes.  She was important
too.  His eyes passed over her sweet, plump face.  She had twinkling blue eyes
beneath a cap of soft auburn curls, a slightly turned-up nose, and rosy
cheeks.  Her lips were tipped up at each corner as if she wore a perpetual
smile.  And she seemed to.  How she managed to retain such a cheerful outlook
when her family had virtually turned their backs on her was beyond him. 

“Oh, look, Ike, they’re walking into the rose
garden.”

“Good, good,” he murmured, watching after them. 

***

“I have to tell you, I’m really confused,” Brady
confessed to Amanda.  He met her gaze wearily.  “And to be honest, I really
don’t have time for this.  I need to get back to work.”

She checked her watch.  “I don’t have the time
either, but what can we do…?”  Her words trailed off.  They couldn’t very well
walk away when they’d yet to locate their grandparents.

Brady turned in a slow circle.  “I don’t see
them, do you?”  He raked a hand through his hair.  “What possible reason could
they have for bringing us here?  And since when does my granddad use a cell
phone?” he muttered.  “He hates them.”

“Speaking of cell phones, I’m going to try to
reach my grandma again,” Amanda said.  She dialed the number of her
grandmother’s new phone, only to go directly to voice mail.  She’d tried to
reach her from the car on the drive over, with the same results.

She shook her head and began walking down a
flower-lined path.  The roses, in a myriad of gorgeous hues, stood like thorny
sentinels along the narrow walkway. Amanda had always loved roses.  She
remembered that when she was a child, her family had lived in a home with a
small rose garden out behind their house.  She had spent countless hours there,
admiring the roses, or curling up with a good book on a bench within the
garden. 

Wow.  She hadn’t thought about that tiny garden
in years.  How long had it been since she’d even noticed a rose, let alone
inhaled the heady scent of one in full bloom.  She paused beside a particularly
beautiful rose and inhaled its crisp scent.  The floral fragrance wafted around
her face, and she couldn’t help delighting in it.  It transported her back to simpler
times. “Beautiful,” she mused aloud.

In fact, the garden was beautiful—the spring day
glorious.  She glanced up at the bright blue sky, and suddenly registered the
heat of the morning sun on her bare shoulders.  It had been so long since she’d
spent any time out of doors. 

Brady came up beside her and gave the flower a
dismissive glance.  His eyes lit on her.  Amanda suddenly felt self conscious
under his scrutiny, and was glad when he turned away from her.  “What are we
doing here?” he wondered aloud.

“They told us to come,” she informed
unnecessarily.

“But why?”  He glanced around.  “And where are
they?”

Amanda stepped away from the rose bush.  She
resisted the urge to cross the path and touch the silky petals of a soft pink
rose in partial bloom.  And there was a particularly lovely bud calling her
name…  Almost of their own accord, her feet started toward it.

Brady cleared his throat.  “Maybe you can admire
the roses at a later time,” he suggested.  “We have a couple delinquent senior
citizens to find.”

“Er, yes.  Okay.”  She gave an apologetic
shrug.  “I’ve always loved roses.”

He only nodded in reply, as he continued
scanning the scenery for any signs of the runaway couple.  He abruptly
frowned.  “I don’t think I’ve met your grandmother.”  He frowned again.  “I …
haven’t actually met you.” 

She gave a sheepish smile and thrust out her
hand.  “I’m Amanda Richardson,” she told him.  “And my grandmother is Liz
Sanders.”

“Brady McKinney,” he said, accepting her
proffered hand.  His eyes did a distracted pass over her face.  Pretty, he
mused absently, but shook his head to clear it.  He needed to find his
grandfather and get back to work.   

As the director of a security company that
specialized in big-name clients, he’d been called away from a meeting with the
representatives of a well-known celebrity who had signed on to a big film and
was in need of full-time security during the shoot.  The movie was being shot
in their town, and it would be his job to keep the crazed fans at bay.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Amanda said, though
she wished they’d met under different circumstances.  Or heck, she wished they
hadn’t had occasion to meet at all.  She had so much to do at work, she just
didn’t have time for distractions of any kind.  What was her grandma thinking?

To her surprise, Brady took her elbow and urged
her along.  They began walking along the path at a clipped rate, surprised at
the many paths that veered off from the main one.  If their grandparents were
here somewhere, they might not be so easy to find.

“Should we split up?” Amanda asked him. 

Brady glanced around.  He gave a defeated
shrug.  “I’m going to call my granddad again.”  He quickly dialed, but soon
hung up.  “He’s not answering,” he said with a frustrated sigh.  “This is
ridiculous,” he announced.  “And I really have someplace I have to be.  Let’s
start back.”