Page 91 of The Women of Oak Ridge
Aunt Mae’s mouth was a straight line. “I’m fine.”
Georgeanne settled on the sofa, clearly prepared for a lengthy visit. “You can’t be too careful though. I happened to drive past the police station yesterday and saw your poor car sitting in the lot. ‘It’s a wonder Mae and that other fella weren’t hurt worse,’ I said to myself. Guess you’ll have to get a new car.”
I watched Aunt Mae’s expression harden. She opened her mouth to reply just as Dad entered the room.
“Hi there, Georgeanne,” he said. “I thought I heard your voice. How’s the family?”
Georgeanne greeted Dad and launched into one story after another about her kids and grands. After long minutes of bragging about her grandson’s skills in Little League baseball and her granddaughter’s ballet classes, Dad cleared his throat.
“It was kind of you to come check on Mae, but I think it’s best if she rests now,” he said. “The doctor encouraged her to take things nice and easy.”
Georgeanne took the hint and rose. “Of course. I made a chicken and rice casserole for your supper, although I know Velvet brought over some things, too. Y’all let me know if there’s anything I can do. Take care, Mae.”
The woman chattered as Dad walked her outside. As soon as he returned and closed the door, Aunt Mae heaved a sigh.
“I know Georgeanne means well,” she said, “but I’ve often wished I’d bought a house one block over so I wouldn’t have to live next to her. That woman wears me out.” She motioned me over. “Take Peggy outside, please. I think I’ll lie down for a bit.”
While I took the dog out, Dad helped his sister to her room. Her eyes were already drifting closed by the time I returned. Peggy put her front paws on the side of the mattress and whined.
“Come on, sweet girl,” Aunt Mae murmured. “Let’s take a nap.”
I lifted the little dog onto the bed where she tucked herself up against Aunt Mae’s hip, then I tiptoed from the room and closed the door. Dad waited for me in the living room.
“I think I’ll go down to the police station and see Mae’s car for myself. Then,” he said, followed by a heavy sigh, “we need to figure out a plan of some sort. I’m grateful you’re willing to stay with her for a while, but that’s a temporary fix. The doctor believes her eyesight is only going to get worse. She’s going blind, Laurel.”
The news was devastating. “Oh, Dad. Poor Aunt Mae. I wish she would agree to come to Boston.”
“So do I. I’m going to do everything I can to convince her. I may need your help.”
“Of course.”
He left a short time later. I put the clothes Aunt Mae had worn the day of the accident into the washer with some towels Dad and I had used, then set some of the soup I’d made on the stove to simmer. With the delicious aroma filling the house and birdsong coming through the open windows, everything felt peaceful and calm. It was good to have Aunt Mae home again.
She slept most of the afternoon. Dad and I ate lunch without her, discussing different options for the future. While he calledMom to give her an update, I went out to sit on the front porch. I’d just settled there when a police cruiser turned into the driveway.
My stomach fluttered as Jonas exited the vehicle, looking handsome in his uniform.
“Hi, there,” he said with a smile as he approached. “I thought I’d come by and see how the patient is doing.”
“She’s happy to be home, but the doctor doesn’t think she should be alone. Now or in the future. She’s going blind, Jonas.”
His face filled with compassion. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you and your family wanted to hear.”
“No, it’s not, especially with everything else that’s going on.” I heaved a sigh. “I can’t help but feel the stress of keeping secrets about the past played a role in Aunt Mae’s accident. Who knows. Maybe it has something to do with losing her eyesight too. Stress can wreak havoc on us, mentallyandphysically. I’m convinced that whatever happened to Sissy is at the center of Aunt Mae’s emotional instability, but until she’s willing to talk about it, all we can do is speculate.”
Jonas nodded. “Unfortunately there aren’t any records from the 1940s that mention Sissy.”
“I wish we knew where she lived after the war. If we could locate her, she might be able to help us understand why Aunt Mae is so afraid. Doesn’t the police department have a database with information on people?”
He nodded. “On criminals and suspects, but I’ve already checked it for a Sylvia Galloway. I also looked for Clive Morrison, but nothing came up on either of them.”
“I haven’t mentioned anything about Sissy to Georgeanne,” I said, glancing at the small house next door, “but if we don’t get answers soon, I may ask her. If there’s anyone in Oak Ridge who might know something, it would be Georgeanne.”
Jonas chuckled. “She’s definitely a deep well of information.”
Dad’s voice drifted through the open door. It sounded as though he was talking to Peggy.
“Do you want to come inside?” I asked Jonas.
