His Montana Sweetheart. Ruth Logan Herne
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noticed that when I went to visit Grandma and Grandpa in Detroit a few years back.” Liv settled into the rocker, and let the easy motion ease the tiredness from her back, her shoulders. “Have you heard from them this week?”
“I call Mom every night, actually.”
Liv turned, sensing trouble, because fear or concern would be the only reason her mother and grandmother would be in constant contact. “Is Grandpa okay?” Her mother’s expression said he wasn’t. “Tell me, Mom. What’s going on?”
“We think it’s Alzheimer’s.”
The possibility of her grandfather succumbing to the mind-numbing illness chilled Livvie. She leaned forward. “You think it is? Or you know it?”
Jane Franklin pursed her mouth and shrugged. “It’s hard to tell in the beginning stages because everyone forgets things from time to time, but for Grandpa it’s been over a year of little things building up.”
“Over a year?” Liv sat straight up in the chair. “And you haven’t said anything?”
“Your grandmother was adamant about not making a big deal if it was nothing more than a phase. But it looks like it’s the real deal, and we can’t leave Grandma to care for him alone. She hates the idea of coming to Montana, but their neighborhood isn’t like it used to be, and a forgetful old man makes an easy target on the streets.”
Mixed emotions swept Olivia.
Her grandparents loved Detroit. They’d been a big part of their local church; they’d known every family, every elder, every kid in their congregation for decades. The butcher on the corner was her grandfather’s best friend, the local bakery was run by a neighbor’s daughter, and the small diner up the road was owned by her aunt’s godparents. Tucked between the city and the suburbs, their neighborhood had survived when others failed, but Olivia had seen the beginnings of decay when she’d visited five years ago.
Guilt swept her. Why was there five years between visits? She hadn’t been that busy, not busy enough to ignore her grandparents. But that’s exactly what she’d done, believing things would go on forever.
Right, her brain chided. How’s that whole forever thing working out for you? She shushed the internal stab and faced her mother. “What’s the plan?”
“Dad and I are spending next week there. We’re taking the car instead of the SUV because Grandma has a harder time climbing into a taller vehicle. And I think...” She paused, then firmed her gaze and her stance in the chair, “I hope we’ll be bringing them back here. That way we can all help each other.”
“Change scares folks.”
Her mother acknowledged that with a dip of her chin.
“But I’d rather have them cranky for a while than hurt. Or alone. Or fearful in their own house.”
“Exactly the case, but now I have to convince my mother of that. Dad’s kind of oblivious to the whole thing. But Mom?” The look she sent Olivia said she was preparing for battle. “She’ll be tough to convince.”
“Which is where I come in.” Dave Franklin approached the porch from his workshop in the garage. “I was able to sweet-talk the daughter into moving west. I think I’ll do just fine with the mother.”
Her parents exchanged smiles, a tangible warmth of time, love and faith, the kind of married-forever look Livvie had longed for.
“I’m okay with you taking the helm,” Jane declared. “My mother hates to think her kids are bossing her around—”
Liv sent a mock-guilty look her mother’s way, because hadn’t she scolded her mother that very morning for leaving fruit on the counter, a breeding ground for dozens of fruit flies?
Her mother’s smile said the fruit was still on the counter because refrigeration broke down the sugar content or some such nonsense. Three bossy women in one house?
That scenario meant Liv better figure out where she was going and what she was doing sooner rather than later. But for now— “Dad’s got a touch, that’s for sure. I’ll make certain the downstairs bedroom is clean.”
“A few prayers would be a nice addition,” her father mused. “I think Grandma’s had a lot on her plate, and the thought of closing up the house, selling things, or sorting through and giving them away, weighs on her.”
“A daunting task,” Jane agreed. “But we can help while we’re there. And if we bring them here, I think your aunt Kathy would step in and oversee the real estate sale. She’s closest.” Jane turned back to Liv. “I’m sorry we’re ducking out on you your second week back, but you’ll be busy with your historical research and the centennial stuff, so it should be fine. Right?”
Talk about embarrassing. To have a mother coddling a thirty-year-old daughter in the very nest she was born in?
Liv bit back a growl of self-contempt and nodded. “I’m knee-deep in research now, and actually loving it. The Lewis and Clark influence on this part of the country, the early settlers east of here, the problems that brought the Shaw and Massey families across the state to settle in the gulch? There’s some truth-is-stranger-than-fiction stuff in those old stories. So I’m fine, I’ll take care of everything here—”
“Including Tabby.”
The overweight cat shifted on the porch glider. He yawned, stretched and settled back into slumber on the woven floral cushion, a purr of contentment lulling the old boy back to sleep.
“I’m putting him on an exercise regimen the minute you’re gone,” Liv confirmed, but she softened the order by reaching out and stroking the gray-striped cat’s head. “He’s gotten lazy with Tank gone.”
Dave’s expression said he agreed. “Cats are disinclined to exercise when they get older. Or maybe he just misses his old friend.”
“We talked about getting a new dog, but a puppy might be too much for Grandma and Grandpa. The way things are going, we didn’t want to jump into anything.”
Kind. Considerate. Thoughtful.
Her parents were that and more, cornerstones of their community. And they did it together, bound by love.
“I almost wrapped up that picnic bench in time to get to the prayer service tonight,” Dave noted as he leaned a hip against a strong, solid porch rail. “Hearing those bells ring, knowing what it meant, to pause and remember what we’ve been given, I think I did an even better job of sanding those seat boards.”
“I love hearing the bells from Mountainview Church, even though it’s a recording,” Livvie admitted. “The area churches near my old condo had to silence their bell towers because neighbors complained.”
“I can’t imagine such a thing.” Jane sat straighter, surprised. “Complaining about church bells? Who does that?”
“Some folks figure sleeping in is more important than going to services,” Dave offered. “But I think there’s something nice about getting up early and using that time to do some good.”
Liv nodded, but realized she’d fallen more into the first category than the last, and that made her a little sad. Had she gotten lazy these past years? Uninvolved?
Yes.
The truth of that lay before her: her grandparents’ circumstances, her lack of contact with family, keeping her distance on purpose. A sense of selfishness rose within her, but her mother put a hand on her arm, a touch that said she understood more than she let on. “It’s hard to keep up with everything when we’re first on our own, in a new area and newly married. Having said that, I’m mighty glad to have you here but sorry for the reasons that brought you back.”
“Me, too.” Her father’s look said he’d be there if she wanted to talk but wouldn’t pressure her. While she was grateful for that space, she knew Grandma Mason would have