A Family For Andi. Eileen Berger
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in the hospital. And learned he was gone…”
The stairs seemed longer than when she’d climbed them earlier, and as she plodded upward she asked herself why she was talking so much about that accident. Not only had she mentioned his death during the evening meal, but now again.
I must get hold of myself, she thought.
Mrs. McHenry had told her that the dresser along the outside wall was for her use, so she put underclothes, T-shirts, sweaters and shorts in the second drawer. Into the top one went several good pieces of costume jewelry, along with socks, belts and other small items.
She placed four top-of-the-book-list novels and her travel alarm on the bedside chest, and carried her flower-print pajamas and toiletries to the bathroom.
While water ran into the tub, Andi took off her clothes, then twisted her hair, fastening it up on top of her head. Holding onto the rim of the high tub, she stepped in and lay back against its comfortably sloped end. What luxury! Many changes had been made in modern plumbing, but nothing beat the big oldfashioned tubs!
She dried her hands on a fluffy white towel before picking up the National Geographic from the stand beside her. Finishing the first article, she went on to the second, after adding more hot water to the bath.
She was tempted to go on reading, but told herself that Gram might want to use the facilities. Reluctantly climbing out, she dried herself and got into the cotton PJs.
Perhaps hearing the bathroom door open, Mrs. Mc-Henry came into the hallway from the second room on the left. “What time will you be getting up in the morning, Annie?”
“I’mnot sure.”
“I was asking because of breakfast.”
“Oh.” She’d momentarily forgotten the second part of bed-and-breakfast. “Whatever suits you is fine with me.”
“Well, I always go to Sunday School and church.…”
“What time are they?”
“Sunday School at 9:30, church at 10:45.”
“Do you get dressed and ready before eating?”
“Usually. Almost always when folks are staying here.”
“So what time should I be downstairs?”
“Is 8:15 too early?”
There was hopefulness in her voice. “Sounds fine.”
Andi had started toward her room again when she heard Gram say, “I hope you won’t mind, but Keith often comes for Sunday breakfast, then we walk to church together.”
“That makes it nice for both of you.”
“Yes, it does. Especially since his fiancée broke off their engagement last falland went off with some fellow she’d known less than two months! Keith and Sandy used to go to church and everywhere together…You’re welcome to go with us,” Gram invited. “We have an excellent pastor.”
Andi had no intention of allowing herself to be coaxed, so was evasive. “We’ll see in the morning.” She stopped to look at titles on the spines of old volumes in the tall, glass-fronted bookcase next to her doorway, and Gram came to stand beside her. “Most of these were Mother’s, some her mother’sand some my own additions.” Opening the doors, her hand caressed the books.
Recognizing only a few of the authors, Andi randomly pulled out one book, Daddy-Long-Legs. “These covers are attractivelike this one, with its vine-surrounded heart and still-red roses. Modern publishers could take lessons.”
She opened the book and read aloud. “By Jean Webster, With illustrations by the author and scenes from the photo-play, produced by the Mary Pickford Company starring Mary Pickford.” Curious, she turned the page and was not surprised to find its copyright date was 1912.
Several pages were coming loose, so she handled the fragile volume with care, appreciating that the black-and-white photos were as clear and sharp as when published. “May I borrow this tonight? I often read myself to sleep.” Always have to, actually, said an inner voice.
“Of coursethat or anything. I read them when a girl, my kids did, then the grandkids. You might as well, too.”
It felt good to be included with the family of this friendly, outgoing woman. Andi sighed with contentment as she climbed into the high old rope-bed and leaned back on pillows propped against the headboard.
The book had large margins, so she supposed she’d finish the whole thing before falling asleep.
But she drifted off at page sixty-three.
Laughter, teasing, wind blowing her hair. The squealing of wheels making sharp turns, the exhilarating high of speed.
Excitement turning into concern.
Reaching out, Please, Jon, slow down.
Laughing reassurance that he’d never had an accident.
Child running into the road.
Scream of brakes. Grinding protest of car’s frame.
Massive tree.
Thunderous crash of metal. Of glass.
Folding back of metal, wrapping itself around Jon.
Around her.
Agony…!
Andi awoke, gasping for air, reaching for Jonwho was not there. Staring wide-eyed around the unfamiliar room, lighted only by moon-glow filtered through maple leaves.
Submerged in terror.
Oh, God! But she’d given up on God long agoas He’d doubtless given up on her.
The door was closed, so turning on the light wouldn’t waken Mrs. McHenry. That helped some, and Andi started those slow, deep breaths that the therapist had recommended.
Her panic gradually lessened and Andi got out of bed to walk around the room, barefoot, looking at pictures on the wall. She forced herself to examine minute details, to concentrate on realities, on the substance of her surroundings.
It might help to get a drink of waterbut she stopped, hand on the knob, then leaned back against the door. This was a bed-and-breakfast, but would it make the owner nervous to have someone walk around in the middle of the night?
And it was the middle2:28. With many hours yet to get through! Butand this was the good part she’d slept several hours, without pills! She’d been trying so hard to get off all that medication.
She looked at the worn volume beside her bed. It wasn’t boring, but was not terribly exciting, either not like the books she usually read. She’d brought novels by top mystery writers, hoping they’d lure her into a plot in which she could lose herselfyet it had been the old-fashioned Daddy-Long-Legs that accomplished that.
She carried the book to the dainty little ladies’ rocker which, low and comfortable, seemed perfect for this room, and read several more short chapters before moving back to bed. Her leg bothered her, so she rubbed that while continuing to find out more about the orphan girl who was given a college education by an anonymous benefactor, and thus thrust into an entirely different environment from that in the foundling home where she’d spent her life.
The viewpoint character’s reactions to people and events are delightful, Andi thought, and her little sketches add poignancybut how little similarity there is between her college experiences and mine!
She turned pages until, at 3:17, she heard the blast of sirens and recalled Gram’s speaking of the volunteer fire company. Before long, emergency vehicles