Page 35 of Sound and Deception

“Excuse me, Miss Klahanie.”

I turned to find my most distinguished guest, Robert Chapman, standing next to Gram’s wheelchair. “May I borrow your grandmother for a little while?”

Gram and I locked gazes for several seconds. I smirked, and she rolled her eyes. “Of course, Mr. Chapman. Just bring her back in the same condition you borrowed her.”

“Indeed.” He nodded to me, his hazel eyes full of tease, and pushed my grandmother off into the crowd.

“Should I be worried?” I didn’t ask anyone in particular, but received several guffaws in response.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Good evening to everyone out there in radio land. Hope you’re all staying warm and dry.

To the half of the town who didn’t attend, the tree lightning went off without any kind of carnage or profanity. So, you missed absolutely nothing. Just kidding. It was a fine evening with fine folks. Who could ask for more?

Speaking of fine folks, the arguably torturous event, aka, the talent show, was certainly one for the books, ladies and gents. Who knew how many creative ways someone could play spoons? Not me, and I was there. It also seems our favorite local cop, Jay Patterson, has been holding out on the fact he’s an air guitar legend, well, local legend at least. He cut loose with some old school Van Halen, complete with knee sliding. It’s going to be hard to take you seriously at traffic stops from now on, man. Just sayin’. We also had a mad harmonica player, an awesome rendition of “Puff the Magic Dragon” from one of our local hippy artists—not going to comment there. Ahem. Georgie and George Quinnlyn from the lavender farm showed us how to really, and, truly waltz—there was no toe bruising involved in the impressive display. The evening came to a close with a truly sweet rendition of Islands in the Stream, from Mrs. Judith Holt, and her, uh, gentleman friend, Mr. Robert Chapman. All in all, everyone hid their first and second-hand embarrassment like champions. Nicely done, people.

The DJ followed with “Scars to Your Beautiful” from Alessia Cara.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“I am aware my leg will, chances are, never be right again.” Gram stared at me. Her stoicism cracked around the edges. “I can’t fool myself into thinking otherwise.”

We’d tucked ourself into the little den in the main house, both nestled into the crinkled leather couch across from the fireplace. Just catty-corner stood the 8-foot Christmas tree Noah and I had put up, and decorated over the weekend. Gram stretched her injured leg out across the pin-tucked ottoman, her wheelchair parked next to the couch. Darkness licked at the long windows within the encroaching evening.

“You don’t know that for sure, Gram. You’ve always been an active person, and I’d think that would be an advantage. Wouldn’t it be best to see what the specialist says? You know what they say about ‘assuming.’” I tried to tease, but it came out stilted, but it was still better than withering. The idea of her being permanently disabled seemed surreal, but hopping into the camp of ‘bad stuff happens to other people,’ was ludicrous and naive. I just didn’t want to think about it.

She didn’t bite, and the glint in her eyes slid toward doubtful. I hated to see it. It wasn’t her usual state of mind. It never had been. “There’s also something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Something that’s been bothering me.”

A thread of fear pushed through me, and I leaned forward to take her hand. “What’s going on, Gram? Is everything okay?”

“I want you to answer me, and I want you to be honest.”

“Of course.” I frowned, a little wary.

“Is Noah the whole reason you’ve decided to move back? Or is part of it just out of a sense of obligation?” Her eyes, very much like my own, bore into mine. “No bullshit, Klahanie.”

There it was. The elephant in the room just dropped in my lap. She wasn’t kidding when she told me no bullshit. Her meter was pretty accurate. Years ago, I might have tried to dodge those probing eyes and questions, but there was no need to now.

“You know, Gram. If you had asked me when I first got back here, or any of the other times I’ve come home, I would probably have said ‘yes.’”

She blinked, a little surprised by my candor, but said nothing.

“I don’t even know how to describe it. Maybe growing up? A little? Maybe figuring out what’s truly important? I’ve just felt this gradual, I don’t know,shift, I guess. Except for one or two, I’ve enjoyed interacting with our guests. Cleaning isn’t too impressive, but I don’t hate it. It’s kind of satisfying to do all of that, especially the fun requests, and see the result and how the guest reacts.” I picked up my iced coffee from the side table and took a few sips before replacing it. Gram’s focus didn’t waver from me. “I can see how folks care about one another here, well, for the most part. Mr. Crowberry doesn’t count. But I know, if you had asked, almost anyone else on the island would have helped you out after your accident, too. You didn’t need me to come home, not really, but I’m really glad you asked.”

“And I’ve also come to the realization that I amso… fuckingdonewith my day job.”

Gram erupted in laughter, but her eyes stayed too bright. I figured she was currently doing the same thing as me, getting emotional, but not allowing it to take over. We both liked to keep the balance if we could help it.

“I can’t say how happy I am to hear that. I’m gratified to know you seem to have truly found what you’re looking for, but I don’t want you to just stop, either. I know there’s a lot you want to do, and many more places you want to see.”

“And that hasn’t changed. I just want to have a comfortable place to come home to, not a … um … glorified people box in the middle of a city.” As I said it, it occurred to me that Noah had told me something very similar.

“That sounds like a worthy plan, honey.” She smiled, honest pleasure glowing through. “One more question?”

“Hmmm?”

“Noah.”

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