Wind Over Marshdale (29 page)

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“Are you sure?” Billy Chang asked. The group had congregated at the restaurant and was sitting together in a booth.

“Absolutely,” Suzie Chang affirmed. “I think we should go over there again and investigate. Maybe tomorrow.”

“It was pretty creepy,” Ryder offered.

“It might be worth a closer look,” Billy agreed. He didn't sound one hundred percent convinced.

“She could have her poor sister buried under her house, for all we know,” Suzie exclaimed.

“This isn't a spy movie, sis,” Billy cautioned. “This is Marshdale.”

“I know but—”

“But I did say it might be worth a closer look,” Billy interrupted. “If we don't actually find anything, we'll just drop it, okay?”

“This is going to be so much fun!” Suzie squealed.

“As long as we don't get caught,” Ryder put in his two cents. “I have to live next door to her and I don't want her putting a curse on me.”

 

It wasn't every day that somebody turned one hundred. Con and Rachel were the first to arrive at the nursing home in Silver Creek, but they were expecting the entire family very soon along with the local news media.

The smell of antiseptic mixed with floor wax hung in the air as Con led the way down the corridor to the multipurpose room. He greeted a few shuffling old folks as he passed. Most responded cheerily, if not in total recognition. Perhaps it was enough to simply be noticed.

They emerged into an open room with a bank of large windows along the south wall. Rachel paused to survey her surroundings. The vertical blinds had been drawn open to allow the warmth of the afternoon sun to permeate the otherwise sterile environment. The room housed stacks of vinyl-covered chairs, some tables, a large television against one wall, and a couple of vinyl couches arranged in a conversational grouping.

A few elderly patrons were dotted about the room, oblivious it seemed, to their surroundings. One lady in particular slumped forward mumbling, her wheelchair parked in the middle of the room for no apparent reason. Several vinyl reclining chairs were lined up; a couple of them occupied by elders who seemed to be drooping off one side of the chair or the other. It was both touching and pitiful, and Rachel felt a tug at her heartstrings for these once vibrant examples of humanity, now left to waste away, almost forgotten.

Then Rachel's attention was caught by a high, sand-papery laugh. She looked over to where Con was stooping to kiss a tiny wisp of a woman whose chair was positioned directly in a pool of warm sunlight that was shining in through the windows. She walked quickly to join them.

“Grandma, I brought a friend along with me today,” Con said, rather loudly.

“Oh?” Minnie McKinley squinted and leaned forward in her wheelchair. “A woman friend, I hope.”

“Yes. Grandma, this is Rachel.” Con took Rachel's hand and placed it in Minnie's withered one.

“I can't get a look at you with the sun in my eyes,” Minnie stated, taking a tight grip on Rachel's hand.

“I'll wheel you out of the sun a bit,” Con offered.

“No! I like the sun,” Minnie cut him off sharply before he could begin to push her wheelchair. “I like the warmth. It keeps me young.” She laughed at her own joke. “Just turn me a bit. There. That's better. And now you two can pull up a chair beside me. You—girlie.” She waved a limp hand in Rachel's general direction.

“Rachel,” Con supplied as he pulled up his chair.

“Yes,” Minnie continued, hardly missing a beat, “You sit up nice and close. Right here next to me.” She motioned with her hand until Rachel was seated. “Good. Good. Now let me take a better look at you.” She squinted again. “So you're my Connie's friend?”

“Yes.”

“Is she pretty, Connie? I can't really see. My eyes aren't what they used to be.”

“Yes, Gran, she's pretty,” Con said with a smile, looking at Rachel.

“Good. I'm one hundred, you know.”

“That's remarkable. Congratulations.”

“I guess the good Lord isn't finished with me yet!” Minnie laughed again. “Now, girlie… what was her name again?” She looked toward her grandson and waved a hand.

“Rachel,” both Con and Rachel said at the same time.

“Oh, yes. My memory isn't what it used to be either. You can come to my party. They always put on these parties in this place. Even when you turn eighty-eight or ninety-four, as if it's something special.”

“The party is this afternoon. Everyone is coming,” Con reminded.

It was hard to tell if she'd heard him. “I was still living in my own home at eighty-eight.”

“Not everyone can take care of themselves as well as you,” Con said.

“I always liked to take care of myself. Never wanted to be a burden to anyone. I like to be independent,” Minnie stated.

“Maybe stubborn is a better word,” Con teased.

Minnie laughed loudly at that. She seemed to enjoy every opportunity to laugh out loud. “Stubborn. That's what your father always said.”

“My father called you stubborn? I wouldn't think you'd have allowed that.”

“What are you talking about? I'm talking about my Chucky. Your father.”

“I'm Con, your grandson, remember?” Con reminded gently.

“What? Of course, you're Con. Don't be so foolish. I know my own grandson.”

“Of course you do,” Con agreed.

“What was I talking about again?” Minnie asked.

“Your birthday party.”

“Oh, yes. I'm one hundred. Did you know that, girlie?” Minnie leaned toward Rachel.

“That's wonderful,” Rachel said.

“Yes. Not many people can say that. That they got to be one hundred. I suppose they'll have a big party for me. The newspaper will probably come.”

“As well they should,” Rachel stated, giving the woman's hand a squeeze.

“What? What did she say?” Minnie turned to Con. “Tell her to speak up. My hearing isn't what it used to be.”

“I said, I think it's wonderful that you'll be having a big party for your birthday,” Rachel enunciated loudly.

“Hmph. Such a lot of fuss,” Minnie said with a shrug. “What was your girlie's name again, Connie?” “Rachel,” Con repeated.

“Rachel,” Minnie repeated, as if trying to will it to memory. “Jacob's head was turned by Rachel. In the Bible. He worked for seven years for her and then he was tricked into marrying her sister—what was her name?”

“Leah,” Con supplied.

“Right. So he worked another seven to get Rachel, his first love.”

“That's very interesting,” Rachel said.

“It's God's word. Do you read your Bible?” Minnie squinted more closely at Rachel.

“Rachel is a school teacher,” Con cut in, changing the topic.

“What's that?”

“A school teacher. Rachel is a school teacher.”

“Oh. So you're smart.”

“Well, I…”

“Smart enough to catch my Connie!” Minnie cackled. “He's a good-looking catch, wouldn't you say?”

“Yes, I suppose,” Rachel agreed, blushing slightly under Con's gaze.

“His father was the same. Good-looking, my Chucky.”

“That's my grandfather,” Con reminded.

“Of course he's your grandfather! Goodness! And what was your name again? Leah, was it?”

“Rachel,” Con and Rachel replied again in unison.

“Rachel,” Minnie repeated. “She was the pretty one. The one Jacob loved best. Even if he had to marry the other one first. Just like me. My Chucky loved me best, but he had to marry the other one first. She was nasty.”

“We shouldn't talk about that right now,” Con cautioned.

“And why not?” Minnie questioned sharply. “I'm not afraid of the truth. I know I've done some wrong things in my day, but the good Lord's forgiven me for every one. I've got nothing to be ashamed of, now. Not at my age. I'm one hundred, you know.”

“I know, Gran.”

“Well, then. You'd think the least a person would be allowed to do at my age was talk about whatever they wanted to. I've always been one to speak my mind and I'm not about to stop now.”

“Of course not, Gran. Nobody would want you to change. Not one bit. You're too adorable just the way you are.”

“Smooth talker,” Minnie grunted, but smiled. “Just like your father.”

“I think you meant Grandpa.”

“That's what I meant. Now what was I talking about?”

“Grandpa.”

“Oh, yes. Such a handsome man, he was. I couldn't help but fall in love with him. What's that song he used to sing? The one your father liked?” Minnie asked, her mind straying off in a different direction.

“You mean the one that Grandpa liked?” Con asked.

“Yes, yes. You know it,” Minnie made some tremulous humming sounds. “You know the one. Go and play it.”

“I'm not sure I know which one you mean, Gran,” Con said, still patient.

“Oh, whatever, then,” she grunted. “Wheel me over to the piano and I'll listen while you play. You come along, too, girlie,” she said, waving Rachel forward.

“I think I shall enjoy this very much,” Rachel said with a catlike smile. “I'll give a full report to Mrs. Beatry.”

Con lifted an eyebrow as he wheeled his grandmother Minnie over to the piano that was situated on the opposite wall from the television.

“Let's see…” Con said, sitting down at the keys and fingering them lightly. “Shall we liven this place up a bit?”

“Heavens yes,” Minnie replied. “I may be old, but I'm not dead yet.”

Con started playing a ragtime tune. Minnie clapped along as best she could, her eyes closed. Soon, several other seniors came shuffling or wheeling into the multipurpose room to take in the entertainment.

“Looks like the party is already in full swing,” Betty said, joining Rachel beside the piano. The rest of the family had arrived.

“Girlie, come over here and sing with us,” Minnie commanded Rachel as Con began the next song. It was an old hymn.

“I really can't sing very well,” Rachel apologized as she moved dutifully to the matriarch's side.

“Nonsense! Anybody can sing,” Minnie protested. Rachel half-heartedly joined in with the others, trying to blend quietly in.

After a few more songs, they sang “Happy Birthday” and Lisa helped Grandma Minnie blow out the candles on the large cake that had been wheeled in by one of the staff. Everyone cheered while the newspaper photographer took pictures. Afterward Minnie gave a small speech.

“I've lived a lot of years, as you know. One hundred to be exact, and that's not something that most folks can boast about. I've seen a lot of changes in my time. Folks coming and going. Rushing about everywhere. I've had a good long life, but I don't expect to be around too much longer. I'm getting ready to see my Chucky and my Eddie in heaven. And I want to see each and every one of you there someday, too. That's all.”

There were tears in many eyes. Rachel felt moved by the old woman's words, as well.

“Time for presents!” Betty hollered, bringing a few brightly wrapped boxes forward to sit on the table in front of Minnie.

“What's an old woman like me gonna do with more stuff?” Minnie grumbled. She didn't seem in any hurry to unwrap them so Betty sent a very willing Lisa over to help.

This part of the gathering was far less formal and guests began milling about, chatting in small groups. Rachel went to stand beside Con and Ivor.

“We should have enough snow for a youth group snowmobiling party before Christmas if things keep up this way,” Con said.

“We've had more snowfall already than we've had in the last few years,” Ivor agreed. “Certainly can use it for the crops next spring.”

“Snowfall in the winter can affect the crops?” Rachel asked.

“Adds to the moisture content of the soil,” Con explained. “We've experienced some drought in the past, but a good snow cover can help prevent it.”

“By the way, I can't go bowling with the youth group this Friday,” Bonita announced to her father and Con, coming to stand beside them. “I've got practice with Mr. Friest.”

“On a Friday night?” Ivor asked. “That seems awfully strange.”

“It's a special practice for some of us girls. We've got a big tournament coming up before Christmas.”

“I don't know, Bonita,” Ivor said. “You know that youth group comes first. We told you that when you joined every team at school. We won't let sports interfere with your spiritual life.”

Bonita rolled her eyes. “It's not interfering. Besides, what's so spiritual about bowling and pizza? This tournament is really important.”

“We'll discuss it later,” Ivor stated. Bonita sighed heavily and sulked away.

Rachel felt instant alarm bells go off at the mention of a “special practice” with Steve Friest. She wondered if she should mention it to Con later.

Ivor watched his daughter for a moment, and shook his head. “I'll be glad when that one grows out of this rebellious stage.”

“Everyone does” Con said.

“We can only hope and pray,” Ivor sighed. He took a sip of punch and changed the subject. “Did I tell you yet that I got a call from the aunts?”

“You mean Aunt Stephanie and Aunt May?” Con asked, frowning. “No. What did they want?”

“Apparently, they're coming for a visit.”

“You're kidding. And when are we to have that pleasure?” Con asked, his voice dripping irony.

“Christmas,” Ivor replied. Con groaned.

“Well if that didn't just spoil a good afternoon,” Con exclaimed. He shook his head in disbelief, downed his punch and set the plastic cup on the table. “Come on,” he said to Rachel. “We better visit a bit more with Gran. She'll be wiped out pretty soon.”

He took her hand and led her back to toward Minnie's wheelchair, now piled high with a new photo album, socks, a stuffed toy and a new pair of slippers. Minnie yawned widely and looked around. She seemed disoriented by the noise.

“Are you tired, Gran?” Con asked. “Would you like to go back to your room now?”

She just nodded, almost imperceptively. The poor woman was probably too exhausted from all the excitement. Con released the brakes on the wheelchair and began slowly wheeling her toward the exit. Minnie waved to the gathered crowd.

“Wait,” she said to Con. He stopped immediately. She turned her upper body as best she could, searching the faces. Her eyes found Rachel “Girlie. You can come, too.”

Rachel felt herself coloring, not used to having the attention drawn to her in such a way. But who was she to deny the wishes of an elder on her one hundredth birthday?

The room was small and somewhat clinical, but there were some attempts at making it cozy. The blinds were open, letting a stream of light in through the narrow window. Personal mementos decorated the walls and chest of drawers. Rachel strolled to the bulletin board to look at the photographs tacked onto its surface. She recognized Ivor, Betty and their children in various stages of development. As well, she noticed some older black and white photos of people she did not recognize. But most striking of all was an eight by ten portrait in a gilded frame that sat on top of the dresser.