“What happened?” She shook her head. “Grandma, please.”
“I’d like to go home now.”
“Were you in an accident? Are you okay?”
“An accident? No. I’m a wonderful driver. I just—” She stopped talking, shaking her head again, then she reached into her bag and handed me the car keys. “It’s down there.” She pointed down the hill.
“Can you stay with her a minute?” I asked Joe. He said he would, and I went to get the car, pulling up at the curb behind Joe’s. He helped her up, escorted her to the passenger side, and handed her gently inside, where I hooked her seatbelt for her.
“Can you find your way back? Or do you want to follow me?” he asked through her open door.
“I can do it.”
“Okay.” He patted my grandmother’s shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Evelyn. Rest and fluids.”
She didn’t argue or make a flippant comment, which scared me further. I plugged our destination into Google Maps and pulled away, not speaking until we were on our way out of town.
“What happened?” I finally asked once we were on the road back to Hereford.
Another shake of the head. “I’m tired.” She closed her eyes. I didn’t think she was sleeping, but she didn’t talk again until we reached the cottage. Her eyes opened when the car came to a stop, and I went to her side to help her out. She let me lead her up the stairs, where I settled her in her bedroom, then got her a glass of water.
“Do you need any of your pills?”
“No. I’m just going to lie down for a little while.”
“Are—are you okay? I’m going to call Mom.”
This elicited the ghost of a reaction. “What’s your mother going to do? Let me lie down. I’ll be . . . fine.”
“You promise? You seem—”
“Jenna.”
I brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. If you need anything, just call for me.”
She was already asleep, snoring softly, as I tiptoed out of the room.
I cleaned the kitchen and used Uber Eats to order from a restaurant in town for when she woke up. Then I sat at the kitchen table, looking through the photo album she had left there. My grandfather was in the album, young and handsome, carrying my grandmother through the surf while she laughed. A picture from her wedding, Vivie standing next to her as her maid of honor. And then the album ended, blank pages left in it. I rested my head in my hands when I reached the end, saying a silent prayer that my grandmother was okay.
She reemerged around five, looking older and tired. I jumped up to guide her to a chair, then went to get her more water. “I ordered food. Are you hungry?”
“No.” She took a sip of the water, then held the glass out to me. “I’m going to need something stronger than this.”
“Absolutely not.”
She cocked her head. “And why not?”
“Because you had a . . . spell today. And Mom said you’re not supposed to drink with your medication and—”
“Oh, darling. That wasn’t a physical thing.”
“It—what?”
“Pour us a drink and sit. It’s time you knew about Vivie.”
The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I gripped the kitchen counter. Then I poured orange juice into two glasses, added vodka from the cabinet, and joined her at the table, my eyes wide as she took a sip and then began to speak.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
June 1955
Hereford, Massachusetts
Fred couldn’t get away from his new job, so Evelyn took the car, picked Vivie up at the station, and drove the four hours from their rented house in New Rochelle to Hereford. He could take the train into the city for work, and Evelyn missed the salt smell of the air, the feel of the sand between her toes, her parents, and most of all, her youngest sister.
Vivie attended Barnard, and they should have seen each other more frequently once Fred and Evelyn moved to New Rochelle—that was one of the selling points for Evelyn to leave Boston. But it was over an hour of travel in each direction between the train and then the subway or cab from the 125th Street station. And Vivie was always so busy, not just with school, but with friends and the boyfriend who consumed more and more of her time.
George Eller was three years older than Vivie, and they met when she was a freshman and he a senior at Columbia. Vivie knew immediately he was the one for her and began a campaign that bordered on obsession to make him realize the same. For two years, they were friends. He called her “kid.”