Page 33 of Sea La Vie
Finally, she turns to look at me, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Thank you,” she says. “For not trying to make it better. Sometimes, I want someone to listen.”
“I’ll listen to you all day long, Lainey Adams.”
A warm smile crosses her lips. “Are you ready to head in?”
I pat my pocket with the letter and nod. She grabs the bag of food, and I lead her into the nursing home, the fluorescent lighting and smell of antiseptic anything but a warm greeting. We turn down a few hallways before coming to his door, and I rap on it with my knuckles.
“Come in,” I hear my Grandpa say.
I push open the door and find him sitting in his bed, dressed in a matching set of red, faded pajamas. “Hey Grandpa.”
He stares at me for a few uncomfortable seconds before recognition finally crosses his face. “Tate, it’s good to see you. It’s been a while.”
I frown. It’s only been a few days. “Grandpa, this is my friend, Lainey. Do you remember her?”
Lainey steps forward and lays a hand on the paper skin thin of his hand. “Hi Mr. Matthews.”
“How could I ever forget a girl like Lainey?” Grandpa smiles and lays his free hand on top of hers. “You two would run around all summer, wreaking havoc on anything and everything. She stops by and sees me almost every week.”
“It’s good to see you,” Lainey says, avoiding my gaze. “I hope you haven’t eaten yet. We brought you some dinner.” Grandpa’s face lights up when he sees the bags of food.
“I thought something smelled good,” he says. He sits up a little straighter in the bed, and Lainey rolls a table over and begins filling a plate with food for him before she fills one for each of us.
“This is great. I’ve missed good, old-fashioned table salt,” Grandpa says.
Lainey chuckles, and I remember the note in my pocket.
“Hey Grandpa, remember me telling you I’m fixing up the cottage? I found a letter recently, and I wanted to see if you remembered anything about it.”
I fish the note out of my pocket and hand it to Grandpa. His milky blue eyes scan the paper back and forth. I catch myselfholding my breath, and for a split second he looks like he wants to say something. Instead though, he slowly shakes his head.
“I’m…I’m not sure. Where’d you find this?” he asks. He’s frustrated he can’t tell us more. I can tell by the way he’s chewing the inside of his lip.
“In the bedroom,” I tell him, carefully so I don’t upset him more. “It was under a loose floorboard.”
“I wish I could help you,” Grandpa says, his brows furrowed. Across the room, Lainey’s shoulders drop for a moment before we start to fill the silence with general chatting about the cottage remodel and life in Widow’s Wharf.
A while later, a soft knock on the door has us all turning our heads. “I’m sorry to say this, but visiting hours are over,” a nurse says. She sets a paper cup of Grandpa’s nightly meds on the table beside his bed with a cup of water.
“I’ll come back in a few days, I promise,” I tell Grandpa.
“It was good to see you,” Lainey says.
He nods, grabbing my hand as I bend down for a hug. He gives it a gentle squeeze with his bony hand. His skin is paper thin and so cold that, for a moment, it hits me that my grandpa—someone who biked the streets of Widow’s Wharf with me and shot basketball in the driveway—is now unable to care for himself.
“And it was nice to meet you, young lady,” Grandpa says. I frown, remembering Grandpa saying he could never forget a girl like her earlier. Lainey gives my shoulder a nudge, and I follow her to the door.
“Goodnight,” we both say and head back to the parking lot.
13
Lainey
“How was your day?” Tate asks, as he takes the rain jacket I’ve shrugged off and hangs it behind the door. Midge trots in right behind me and hops up on the couch like she owns the place.
“It was good, until it wasn’t,” I say, with a huff. Tate raises an eyebrow. “I got a call last night that the motor was finally fixed, so after I left you, I went and got it all situated with the mechanics. Then, I woke up early this morning to fish, and it was a perfect morning, not a cloud in the sky, and one of the most beautiful sunrises I’ve ever seen—” I slip off my rain boots and walk into the living room.
“I’m not seeing the problem,” Tate says. I shoot him a look, and he gives me a cocky smile that makes my insides swirl.
