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I sat with my mother, holding her hands while she cried, both of us mourning the death of Gram in our own ways. The call hadn’t come, and my father hadn’t returned but we both knew Gram’s soul was being escorted to a better place. After what seemed like hours, my mother wiped her face and glanced at the clock. Her eyebrows knit together and she crossed to the phone, dialing without looking in my direction.
“Mom?” Surprise laced her voice and when she turned toward me, her face reminded me of the grey ash in the fireplace. A chill settled over the room and the concern in my mother’s eyes sent my heart into a staccato drumbeat.
She turned away and settled into a chair, her posture tense as she did her best to engage in small talk. After a few minutes she cut the call short, blaming it on me and after she hung up, she crossed and took a seat across from me, her hands kneading together like a mini-wrestling match.
“Gram’s okay?”
She nodded and inhaled, her chest inflating and deflating slowly before she spoke. “Yes and I’m not sure why.”
“Maybe my father changed his mind.”
Mom looked beyond me out the front window and sighed. “Maybe.”
Her tone didn’t convince either of us and when her gaze finally landed back on me, I knew she didn’t believe it. That worry crease was back between her eyes and she offered a tight smile. “You should head over to Julia’s for a while.”
“Are you going to Gram’s?”
She hesitated and looked toward the door, the conflict visible in the tension in her neck and jaw and then she nodded. “But I’m not sure it’s safe for you to go.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because if something’s happened to your father...”
I waited for her to finish but she just drifted off, pressing her lips against any possible scenario those words led to. Finally, I prodded her to finish, “Really, Mom? He’s Death, what could happen?” I refrained from rolling my eyes at her.
Her brows arched and her head cocked to the side for a moment before she laughed and the lines creasing her forehead smoothed. “I guess you could come with me.”
My stomach clenched and fear stroked my skin, creating a chill that was colder than an iceberg. I forced a smile wondering what was wrong with me. I loved my grandmother’s house. It always reminded me of chocolate chip cookies and apple pie, so why in the world was I afraid?