Chapter Twenty-Six

“That’s the last of it,” I call the following Friday afternoon as I make it down the stairs with the last box from Grandma’s attic.

It’s been ten long days since Logan and I decided to keep our distance (not that I’ve been obsessively counting or anything). The only time I’ve heard from or seen him was at the game last Saturday, and even then he snuck in right before the livestream started, our characters barely interacted in the game, and I left immediately after. If the others felt the strain between us, they didn’t say anything. I’m betting it’ll get easier to stay away with time.

It can’t get harder.

At least Grandma’s agreement to move has come at a good time, because it’s given me something to do each day after school. My parents have met us here after work every day to pack boxes and clean. Even Andrew has been over a few times. We’ve managed to completely clear the attic, the second-floor closets, and the extra bedrooms. There’s still lots more work to be done, but Dad is hoping to get it staged to sell by next month.

I deposit the last box by the door and check on Grandma in the sun porch, where she’s sipping a cup of coffee and working on a 3D puzzle, her latest hobby.

“Your dad will be pleased.”

“Are you feeling any better about the retirement community?” I ask, and sit down across from her.

“It’s fine.” She glares at me. “It’s…nice.”

“It’s very nice.”

While Grandma’s new home isn’t nearly as large as this house, it’s new, clean, and bright. We’re bringing in lots of shelves for her to display her things, along with as much furniture as we can from here. There’s even a corner where she can paint or do puzzles, and a patio where she can drink her coffee. I really think she’s going to be happy—but not before being obstinate until the bittersweet end.

“You never know what might happen after the move,” I tell her. “I was nervous about coming here and going to a new school—really nervous. But sometimes change is a good thing.”

She nods and glances around the sun porch, which has been completely emptied other than the wicker furniture we’re using. It wasn’t long ago that the space was filled with paints and easels, and before that with houseplants when she got on a gardening kick. A wave of sadness and nostalgia washes over me. Soon someone new will own this house and all those times will be distant memories.

My emotions are reflected in her expression, but then she claps her hands together and gives me a sharp look.

“No more packing, no more complaining. Let’s get out of here and go for a drive.”

“A drive?” I repeat.

“Yes, a drive. We’re going to have some fun—I’m sure you’ve heard of the concept.”

“I have.” I chuckle. I follow her to the front door and pick up the keys to Mom’s car. Grandma immediately plucks them out of my hand and places them back down.

“No need. I’m going to drive.” She takes her jacket.

Unease settles in my chest. There’s something in the determined glimmer in her eye that tells me this trip is going to be trouble.

“Um…where do you want to go? Someplace in town?”

Her happy expression drops immediately. “I still have my license, thank you very much. If the state says I can drive, that means I can drive anywhere.”

“But Dad would rather—”

“What your father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” She tugs me along outside. “Come on, I think we could both use a long drive.”

She’s right, it does sound great. I bite my lip and walk to the passenger door. I know my parents won’t be happy to hear she drove someplace other than the usual roads she’s used to, but what else am I supposed to do? Physically drag her back into the house? Sit on the sidewalk in protest until she decides to give in? I can only imagine her reaction to that. When Grandma is in this mood, there’s nothing I can do to sway her.

“So, where are we going?” I ask as she pulls out of the driveway.

“Jim told me about these amazing Amish shops about an hour away from here. Everything is handcrafted, and they have the most beautiful quilts.” She turns to me with a devilish smile on her face. “I thought we could do a little shopping, pick up a few things, and then have dinner at the restaurant up there. I want to get their chicken and noodles.”

While a bowl of warm carbs on this chilly spring day sounds comforting—maybe eaten while wrapped in a big quilt—this is a horrible plan. And knowing Grandma, she isn’t ignorant of that fact either. Driving on back country roads for hours? Buying a bunch of stuff when we’ve just decluttered the house? This is Grandma rebelling. It would almost be cute if I wasn’t in the middle of it.

“I don’t know if this is the best idea. Why don’t we check out one of the little shops on Main Street? Or we could go get lasagna at that new restaurant a few blocks from here?”

She looks at me long enough that I point at the road to make sure she’s watching.

“Are you going to be a spoilsport who tries to stop me, or would you like a slice of homemade Dutch apple pie from the Amish restaurant?”

I huff. “Fine, I won’t stop you.” I settle back into the seat. “But I’m also not defending you when Dad goes ballistic.”

“I can handle your father.”

Grandma’s tone is confident enough that I almost let go of my nerves and enjoy the ride—though the landscape isn’t at its most beautiful right now. Soon spring will truly be here and we can look forward to green grass and daffodils, but right now it’s all gray skies and leafless trees—like a grayscale painting. The first ten minutes are uneventful as we make our way out of town. It’s lucky there’s never much traffic. But then we get out onto the two-lane road that leads us to Amish country, and it quickly becomes clear that the route is both hilly and windy. I grip the door as she takes a curve way too fast.

“You should slow down,” I say, my voice tight. It’s hard to anticipate what’s coming next with these roads. One moment you’re cresting a hill and the next you could be hitting another curve…or a car if you aren’t careful. This driving isn’t for the faint of heart.

She hits the brakes for a second but barely slows down. “I don’t remember it being like this out here.”

“We’re not in a rush.”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

We come up over the next hill and my heart lodges in my throat. We drop to the other side, and thank goodness there’s no tractor, Amish buggy, or deer. I’m worried, but I do like that she wants to hang out with me like this. I always loved visiting her, but it’s been different these past two months. Her house was starting to feel like a second home to me—until we packed it all up—and I’m going to miss it. I hope it’ll be just as fun visiting at her new place.

“I can’t believe you have an indoor pool at your new retirement community. You’re so lucky. Do you think they’ll let me swim there too?”

“You can take my place. I don’t like getting my hair wet.” Her face twists in a scowl.

“Grandma,” I say, half frustrated, half amused. “There has to be something you’re looking forward to there.”

“No, there’s—” She grins. “Never mind, I take that back. There is something I want to do when I get there.”

“Yeah?” She takes another curve too quick, but it’s easier to ignore when we’re talking.

“I want to gather some of the other folks and have you teach us all to play D&D!”

My eyes bug out. “Are you serious? Why?”

“You all seem to have so much fun with it. I can’t follow half of what you’re talking about or why you’re always rolling dice, but I’d like to pretend to be an elf or a dragon or something. Henry always did call me his dragon.”

“You could play a dragonborn character,” I reply, but my mind is still reeling at the idea of playing D&D with Grandma’s elderly friends. “I’m surprised you’re so interested. I didn’t—” My brain finally catches up and processes her words. “ You’ve been watching the livestreams?”

“I have a computer,” she says defensively. “Andrew had to show me how to find it, but I wrote down the directions and now it’s my latest Saturday activity.”

I rub my hands down my face. “Are my parents watchingtoo?”

“My understanding is they like to drink tea while they listen.”

I groan, utterly mortified to discover my entire family has been watching the games, but also a little…touched. I didn’t think they cared.

“Why didn’t anyone ever tell me?”

Grandma accelerates on an open stretch of road and I clench my jaw.

“We knew you’d be embarrassed. But we wanted to be involved.”

I swallow down a lump in my throat. “That’s both mortifying and very sweet. And—if you really want—I guess I can try to teach you? The rules can be complicated, though.”

I’m about to launch into more explanation, but yellow road signs catch my attention. They line the edge, warning that a big curve is coming up…like a ninety-degree curve that you need to take at twenty miles an hour or slower. But Grandma is going double that.

“Grandma?” I say, my voice rising and my right foot pressing into the carpet of the car as if I can press on a secondary brake pedal and slow us down. “ Grandma, the curve!”

But it’s too late. Her reflexes are slow, and the car is already going much too fast when she slams on the brakes. The tires squeal and the back end of the car fishtails. We both scream as the car spins and slams into one of the signs. I’m jolted forward, then back into my seat as we come to a complete stop.

I sit frozen, my heart beating painfully fast in my chest and my hands braced on the door and driver’s seat. Slowly, like I’m moving through water, I turn to Grandma. Her hands are gripping the steering wheel, her head is against the headrest, and her eyes are wide with fright.

But she’s alive and that’s the only thing I need to know.