Chapter 82: Sadie: Family

SADIE

Most people say nothing matters more than a parent’s love. Good for them. Books and other people’s stories have taught me the appeal, but I usually don’t dwell on not having it.

Standing outside this door, though, I hear Trey’s grandmother ask him something, her voice warming around his name, and suddenly I want a mother who notices I’m upset or a father who insists I call when I get home.

Just one would’ve been enough. She’s so happy he’s here, and I wish I knew what it felt like to be welcomed that way. So that’s what this is. I’m jealous. That’s an unpleasant thing to discover about myself when I’m supposed to be getting ready to say hello.

A breath leaves me just as the door opens, and Trey steps out.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," he says.

"It’s fine." I straighten away from the wall. He’s been apologizing more lately, and I’m trying not to make a big deal out of basic manners, but this is Trey. There’s some progress to acknowledge.

He offers his hand. "You can come in now."

His smile makes it obvious he’s happy, and I take his hand as he leads me through the door.

Now that I’m actually meeting her, everything I could say disappears. Hello. I can manage hello without making Trey regret bringing me, can’t I?

He leads me across the spacious room to the bed beside the window, where his grandmother sits with a pale cardigan buttoned over her dress. Silver curls frame her face, and fine lines gather around her eyes as she turns toward us.

"Grandma, this is Sadie," Trey tells her as we stop beside the bed. "I was just telling you about her."

She takes a moment to look me over, and I manage a smile. "Hello, ma’am. How have you been?"

"Come here, dear," she says, reaching out to me.

I turn to Trey, unsure whether she wants me to sit, but he nods and releases my hand. I barely reach her before she draws me down into a hug.

The bouquet stays awkwardly to one side while my free hand hovers near her shoulder. I wasn’t expecting this, and it takes a few seconds to know where to put myself. Her palm begins patting my back, and the floral scent that greeted us at the door surrounds me as I settle into her arms.

"Child," she whispers.

My shoulders ease, and my free hand finally rests against her. There’s nothing for me to say or do to earn this. She’s just holding me, and somehow my eyes start watering.

I’ve been hugged before. Why is this one making it so hard to swallow?

She draws back with her hands still on my arms, and I blink, hoping she can’t tell how close I am to crying.

"What a blessing," she says, "to have such a lovely girl come to see me. An angel, surely."

I bite my lip. "I’m not that beautiful."

"Nonsense, child. You’re a beauty." Her hands stay on my arms as she turns to Trey. "Only friends, are you? I’ve told you often enough to find someone kind and make a home of your own. What are you waiting for?"

He scratches the back of his neck, looking more like a boy being questioned about his homework than the man who brought me here. "Grandma, you’re being so old-school."

"Old-school?" she repeats. "Am I to leave this world before you bring your mate to meet me?"

"Grandma—"

"I brought you flowers," I interrupt, lifting the bouquet before he has to answer.

"Well, how lovely." She smiles at the lilies, then gestures toward the window. "Trey, put these in the vase. Those poor things over there have had their day."

He takes the flowers from me and heads toward the window, accepting his escape. Grandma pats the space beside her on the bed, and I sit.

I’ve always found some elderly people a little intimidating, but there’s nothing frightening about her eyes.

They’re soft and warm, and I’m beginning to feel comfortable when she asks, "You’re much too skinny. Are you getting enough to eat?"

"I am." I chuckle. "I’m actually considered medium by most people."

"Medium?" She repeats it like someone has been lying to me. "My dear, a strong wind would take you away with it."

My laugh earns me a curious tilt of her head.

"What do you study? Tell me something you’re proud of. I won’t have Trey talking about hockey all afternoon."

"Statistics." I sit a little straighter. "I’m also president of our Quiz Bowl club. We’re a small team, but I arranged a recruitment collaboration with Trey’s hockey team a few weeks ago, and we’ve gained more members."

"A president." Her smile widens. "Good. Smart and kind. That’s harder to find than people think."

Trey returns from the window, and she points toward me before he can sit down. "But this girl needs feeding. You told me she lives with you. Are you not making sure she eats?"

"I try sometimes," he says, settling onto the chair beside the bed.

Sometimes is generous for one breakfast that nearly burned the kitchen down and looked worse than anything I’ve ever been served. I’m willing to let him have it, but Grandma clearly isn’t.

"I’d have done better raising a goat," she says, sounding sorry she didn’t. "Have you learned nothing I taught you?"

My hand goes over my mouth, but the giggle escapes anyway.

"Grandma." Trey leans forward. "Did you just compare me to a goat?"

"I said a goat is better." She jabs a finger at him before turning back to me. "Don’t wait for him, dear. Take his card and buy what you need. Eat properly."

It takes a nod and another second to stop laughing before I can answer. "I’ll spend it all on food, Grandma. You won’t have to worry about me blowing away." My free hand moves out beside my waist. "Next time I visit, I’ll be this big."

Her smile returns immediately. "Good."

Then she tilts her head, brushing my hair behind my ear before resting her palm against my cheek. The way she examines my face makes my smile fade a little.

"Who are your parents? Perhaps it’s these old eyes, but you look familiar."

I let out a breath, trying to keep the answer from changing the mood between us. "I’m an orphan, Grandma. I grew up in an orphanage."

Her expression crumples, and a small sound catches in her throat.

"Oh, you poor child," she says, still holding my cheek. "How could such a terrible thing happen?"

Terrible things happen every day, but I’m not about to give her that answer after she’s been so kind.

"I’ve grown up well, haven’t I?" I smile for her. "Don’t feel sorry for me. Just hope I put on some weight."

She turns to Trey. "You hear that? Anything she needs, you see to it. And I expect you to tell me, or I won’t let you through that door again."

"I hear you."

Satisfied that he’s listening, she returns to me. "They took my phone, otherwise you could call me yourself. But you tell him what you want. Don’t be shy about it."

My hands close around hers as I nod, swallowing back the tears threatening to return. All she’s done is tell me to ask when I need something, and somehow this is the closest I’ve felt to having a family.

"I will, Grandma," I promise. "I’ll do everything you said."

"Good. But you must look after him too, and he must look after you." She gestures for me to lean closer, then lowers her voice beside my ear. "He acts all grown-up, but he’s still a baby at heart. A baby who lost his mother."

As I pull back, my eyes go to Trey. He’s giving nothing away, but I remember how hard it was for him to ask me to come inside. He’d acted so comfortable during the drive that I never guessed he was worried. How much else have I missed because he knows how to keep it off his face?

"We’ll look after each other," I assure her.

She nods. "Then I’m happy."

Turning to Trey, she adds, "It does me good when you come, you know. This place gets lonely. They barely let me go outside."

"I know." He rests his forearms on his knees. "I already asked Gina to take you out more. I’ll remind her before we go."

"We could visit more often," I offer. "Would you like that?"

"No, dear. You have your studies." She gestures toward Trey. "Two years left for him, and you must have about the same. I won’t have you neglecting your books."

My answer almost includes the fact that we’re both graduating in a few months, but Trey doesn’t correct her, and I decide not to either. The conversation pauses until he gets to his feet.

"Want to go outside now?" he asks. "Let your perfect grandson take you for a walk."

"I’ve no energy for a walk," she says, making a face at him. "Stay the night instead. We can watch the stars together."

Trey smiles as he pushes his hair back. "Grandma, I’d happily cling to you and never leave, but I have hockey and classes. I can’t stay every time."

Her shoulders sink, and I can’t help thinking how quickly this room will go quiet once we leave.

"Tomorrow’s Tuesday," I remind him. "We mostly just have studying to do. Couldn’t we stay and leave early in the morning?"

"She only met me today, and she’s already kinder than you," Grandma tells him.

Trey sighs. "It’s not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

"Fine. We’ll stay and watch the stars. But you have to stay awake until we get outside. You’re always dozing off early."

"I won’t fall asleep. Such an unfilial boy."

A laugh slips out, and Trey joins in. I turn back to Grandma, ready for her to add another complaint about him, but she’s staring past us. For a few seconds, I think she’s listening to something before I notice how still she’s become.

Her stillness starts to worry me, and I’m about to ask Trey whether something’s wrong when he rises from his chair beside the bed.

"Take the chair for a minute, Sadie."

I let go of her hand and move to where he was sitting, giving him room to take my place beside her on the bed. He takes her hand between his and leans closer, speaking as he sits.

From my spot, I can hear his voice without making out what he says. My chest feels too tight, and I don’t know whether to look away and give them privacy or keep watching in case she needs something I might be able to help with.

He rubs her hand slowly, pausing between the words to see whether she responds. Whatever he’s telling her, he repeats it without sounding frustrated, and I find myself waiting with him, hoping she’ll turn toward him again.

About five minutes later, his murmuring stops, and Grandma settles back against the pillow. Trey stays beside her, holding her hand until her eyes close, then gently lays it on the bed.

"Let’s go outside," he says as he stands. "She needs to rest."

I get up from the chair and follow him, trying not to make any noise on the way out.