He nodded reluctantly. As we approached the rear of the house, I gazed toward the basement stairs, recalling when Cary had first shown me pictures of my mother and revealed she had been living with Grandpa Samuel and Grandma Olivia, growing up with my stepfather and Uncle Jacob as if she were their sister.
"Grandpa Samuel mumbled about some other secrets hidden in the basement, Cary. Do you think it's true? Or just his delusions talking?"
"I'm sure that's all it was," Cary said, but as we passed the stairway, I felt the shadows drawing me, beckoning, promising revelations that would chill me to the bones.
Someday I would have the courage to see.
But for now, I needed my courage just to make it through the day.
14
Sacred Moments
.
Except for Theresa Patterson, whose father had
worked for Cary's father and now Cary, I had made few friends at the high school. After I had played my fiddle and sang in the variety show at the end of the school year, people took more notice of me, but since I was in California I hadn't spent time with any of the other girls during the summer. A few were curious about where I had been, and when I told them I had been to Hollywood visiting friends, they were more than interested. Since I couldn't really reveal the details of my trip they soon grew bored and stopped finding excuses to drop by my locker and chat.
On Tuesdays every week after school, I spent an hour or so with Miss Burton. Since our initial first meeting, I felt less defensive and even began to like her. Her husband had died five years ago, and both her children lived in Florida. In many ways she was just as lonely as I was.
"Etiquette," she explained during our second session, "is really nothing more than the Golden Rule put to work. You are simply developing ways, manners, behavior to treat people as considerately as you would like them to treat you. You show them respect and expect them to show you respect. You treat older people with veneration and hope that when you are older, that's how you will be treated. You practice etiquette at meals so you don't do anything unappetizing. You wouldn't want it done to you. And there are always the problems that come from wondering how to behave at special occasions, how to behave with royalty, with high government officials, et cetera. Etiquette gives us the guidelines that make us comfortable in these settings.
"Isn't it nice to know how to introduce someone to somebody whose name you've forgotten? Why embarrass that person or make him or her feel bad? Isn't it comforting to know how to properly thank people, invite people, console people, what to do at weddings, funerals and birthdays? All of this will certainly come in handy when you're in the business world or looking for a career," she explained.
I stopped resisting, and listened and learned. Whenever I could, I pointed out Grandma Olivia's failures and mistakes, although now I usually chose them one at a time. I especially liked to do it in front of one of her distinguished guests.
Finally, one day she paused at the dining room table when we were eating alone and said, "I know why you're criticizing my table manners or my dinner invitations, but I want you to know it no longer bothers me as much as you hope it will. Furthermore, I am happy you are learning these things and despite yourself, are becoming refined. In the end when you are finished being a brat, you will come to me and thank me," she predicted. Deep down I couldn't help but wonder if she was right and from that day forward I stopped correcting her.
I really did have to try and keep some peace since it was just the two of us in the house now. At the end of the first week of school, I had returned home to learn that Grandpa Samuel had been taken to the rest home. I didn't realize it until Grandma Olivia and I sat at the dining room table that night. After Loretta served us our appetizer, Grandma Olivia announced Grandpa Samuel's fate without a crack in her voice or a tear in her eye.
"I had to have Samuel taken to the home," she said. "He's become impossible."
"He'll be there forever then?" I asked.
"As long as forever is, yes," she replied.
I nodded.
"I'll visit him whenever I visit Grandma Belinda," I declared.
"Don't be surprised if he forgets who you are entirely. According to the doctor, he's only going to get worse," she said.
"I'm so sorry. I wish there was something we could do to help him."
"That's old age. The weight of grief,
disappointment, a lifetime of struggling take their toll sooner on some than it does on others. It will be your fate as well as mine. It's best to prepare for it rather than try to deny it. Only the weak live in illusion. I don't expect you to like me, but I'm hoping you will come to respect what I'm trying to do with and for you," she continued.
"Both my sons are gone. My daughter-in-law remains a frail, pitiful creature. I have a deaf mute for a granddaughter and a grandson who keeps hoping his pipe dreams will come true. Yes," she said with a smile, "I do know about Cary's foolish dreams of building boats."
"They're not foolish."
"It's foolish from a business standpoint. He'll always be a plodder, not much of a student, not much of a businessman and certainly not capable of supervising the family fortune. You, on the other hand, will be. It's a great responsibility . . . family. Each great family is like a kingdom unto itself. Whether this one survives or not will rest solely on your shoulders some day. That means you, too, will have to make decisions that won't be popular, but will be best for everyone. Either you will have the strength and will to do it or you won't.
"Every decision you make now, every choice has an impact on the fate of this family. Remember that and you will do well," she advised. "It wasn't easy putting my husband into a home, but it had to be done and it was. Moaning about it won't help him or me," she said, sounding like she needed to convince herself more than me.
"I'll stop in to see him," I repeated.