�John didn�t wake up this morning.�
�Okay, Mamaw. I�ll get there as soon as I can.�
They hung up and the older woman thought, �Well, that�s out of the way.� She decided to reward herself with a cup of tea. She�d use the time to rest a spell, and think. Raising the warm cup, she spied the back of her right hand out of her right eye, and it didn�t look as she expected. She put down the cup and lifted the hand again, for closer inspection. The wrinkle pattern reminded her of the lines in George Washington�s face on a dollar. And the veins�formerly tunnels�were now a highway, with liver spots scattered like gas stations and eateries throughout the pattern. Even her fingernails, which became a selfish pleasure once all the kids were gone, were short and jaundice-yellow instead of the natural pink she wanted to see. Sometime after only she and John remained, she use to paint them any color she had a mind to, and grew them a half inch out from her finger tips. Now they were yellow, like her skin, like her teeth, like the �whites� of her eyes�and she had to admit the woman in the mirror was older than the one in her head. But as John used to say, �What choice you got? You get old or you die.�
She thought of going into the bedroom again to look at him, but said aloud, �Well, John, at least you�re as old as you�re going to get.� Instead of going to him, she returned to the inspection of her old hand. It held some stupid memories, and some bad ones as well. The scar across her index finger�s knuckle from when she closed a pocket knife the wrong way. In the seventy years since, her lesson learned, she never again got between the blade and its case to put up a folding knife. Then there was the flap of grayish skin on her palm, which never did heal quite right since that fight. Some fool girl thought she was in love with Catherine�s beau and�during their hair pulling match�bit into her hand to prove it. Although she now had no memory of that girl or the boyfriend involved, she had the scar on her palm to remind her of their triangle.
Kate let herself in with a spare key and saw her grandmother seated at the kitchen table staring vacantly at the palm of her hand. �What are you doing, Mamaw? Are you all right?�
�Just thinking,� Catherine absently replied, then brightened when she looked at her favorite granddaughter. �I�m so glad you�re here. Want some tea, Katie?�
�Sure,� Kate said. �Did you call the�?�
�There�ll be plenty of time for all that. Let�s just set awhile, and talk.�
�Okay, Mamaw.� Kate sat at the kitchen table and put her purse on the floor next to the chair leg.
Moving to the stove, her back to Kate, Catherine said, �You made good time from Nashville. Not much traffic?�
�No. It took about three hours, like always.� Kate kept watching her grandmother, seeing signs of something new to her she couldn�t quite figure.
�Is that right?� Catherine placed a hot cup of tea before her granddaughter, then sat before her cold cup again.
Kate thought of going in to see Papaw, before the official time for doing such things came, but convinced herself not to. �What about his organ don�?�
�It�s all arranged, dear. John took care of most of it himself, it probably wouldn�t surprise you to learn.�
No, it didn�t. True to the saw that opposites attract, John lived a structured, organized life with a wife whose only discipline was spent on ten children. Her constant spontaneity always left him with the dumbfounded, toothless smile that was on his face even now. Kate also thought she knew why she was there, not her parents or any of her nine aunts and uncles from these grandparents.
�Yeah, John saw even that coming, and prepared for it as he did for anything else,� Catherine explained. �But that�s not how he planned to die, you know?�
�No, Mamaw, I didn�t,� Kate said, suddenly annoyed by a trace of condescension in her tone and vowing to do better. �How did he plan it?�
Catherine sat silent for a moment, sipped her tea and involuntarily curled her upper lip and wrinkled her nose at its temperature. She put down the cup. �Promise you won�t tell?�
Momentarily a little girl again, Kate though, �Ew, I bet this is good!� But she gravely said, �I promise.�
�He always said that in a fit of ecstasy I�d crush his head between my thighs.�
Kate was quiet for a moment, her mind processing this information; then her laughter rang through the still house. Catherine looked at her blankly, like laughter wasn�t the reaction her revelation should have drawn.
�You�re bad, Mamaw.�
Catherine smiled briefly, her first smile in weeks, and said, �No, I�m good,� then added as an afterthought, �and John was, too.� Kate continued to laugh harder, but somewhere in the middle of their flow, her tears of laughter turned to dour ones. Catherine started to cry with her granddaughter, and they spontaneously stood to hug each other, knowing if they didn�t do something tangible they�d cry for a long, hard time.
Before loosening her hug, Kate said, �No wonder you had ten kids.�
Catherine sat again. �Yeah, ten wonderful��
�Where are they?�
�Oh, they�ll be around for the service and will reading. They always do what�s right.�
�You didn�t call any of them, did you Mamaw?�
�When you and Jack have kids, don�t bother teaching them the different between right and wrong. Any kid can figure that just by living. Shoot, a hound dog can figure it out. Try teaching them to think and feel. That�s the trick.�
Kate sat again. �Should I call Mama?�
�No!� Catherine said violently, placing her hand over Kate�s. She lingered, holding onto Kate�s hand, wondering how long ago hers felt so warm and supple. Then more calmly she added, �I�m not ready for them yet, especially your Mama. Funny thing about raising kids: For their first twenty years, you�re pushy with them. Then for your last twenty, they�re pushy with you. Before you know it, they�ll have me in a home. Not that anything�s wrong with that. The half of my friends who ain�t dead have moved out of their own houses already. I just ain�t ready for it. John and I loved the quiet of this place since the last kids moved out. And I�m looking��
�Didn�t you get lonely?�
�Yeah, but it was a good lonely.�
The women sat silently, Catherine smiling vaguely. When Kate got up to make more tea, Catherine said, �They�ll be time enough for all that business, child. That�s not why I asked you here.�
�Here it comes,� Kate thought. In twenty-eight years of trying to second-guess her grandmother, the younger woman was always caught off guard. Most of the time, pleasantly so. Of course, the same could be said by her grandmother regarding Kate.
�I want you to drive with me to Wildwood.�
�Drive you where?�
�It�s in New Jersey.�
�New Jersey, Mamaw?�
�Just me, you, and John.�
Kate was studying the older woman�s face again. �Mamaw, what are you talking about?�
�You know John was a Yankee.�
�A Damn Yankee,� Kate said, quoting what was always said about Papaw, or any Northerner who moved South.
�Exactly right. Even though he lived in the foothills near fifty years, and even learned to start talking right toward the end, he was born and raised up North.�
�You�re taking his ashes back?� Kate asked.
�I reckon when it comes down to it, all we are is what�s bred in the bone. It�s what he wanted, for me to spread his ashes on the water at Wildwood-by-the-Sea, New Jersey.�
�Of course I�ll go with you, Mamaw.�
�Good.�
�I�ll work it out with Jack and work. When will we�?�
�A few days, after the service and what all,� Catherine said. �I�m glad. I was dreading the parade of depression. Now at least I have the trip with you to look forward to.�
�You�re incredible, Mamaw.� Kate had to bite hard on her lower lip to keep from crying again. Perverse as it was to think, she couldn�t help but be happy for her grandmother.
�What?�
�You always have something to look forward to.�
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