crazy. I forced my feet to move on to my destination and once in the bathroom, the shower beckoned. I felt as grimy and in need of a scrubbing as the cabin. There was hot water, to my relief, and I lingered in it, shampooing my hair even though Iâd started from New York squeaky clean. It was as if I needed a new start. I even found myself singing Grannyâs song in the shower. I was making myself at home quickly. I felt a needed smile turn up the corners of my mouth.
Wrapping myself in a barely adequate towel, I headed out to find some clean underwear and an old pair of jeans. To my relief Granny sat at the kitchen table, her old cup with no handle in front of her.
âSing before breakfast, cry before noon,â was her morning greeting.
Grannyâs sayings, Rue called them. I guess Iâd better get used to them .
âMorning, Granny. Oops. Morning probably means before seven A.M. Itâs way past breakfast. Do you always sleep so late?â
âI been up twice, child. Why did you sleep on that couch?â
âI was too tired to get up those stairs again, Granny. Iâll move in today. You hungry?â
âSome.â She gazed at the bottom of her cup. I could tell sheâd left me. I wondered what she thought about all the time.
I got dressed quickly, fluffed out my hair, put some lotion on my face, and told my stomach to hold on. Food was coming.
Granny had hot water, which turned cold in her cup. She looked at me when I got back to the kitchen. âI couldnât get that new coffee open. I always ask Fleecy but I forgot.â
A full jar of instant sat in the cabinet. I looked around. âHow about some real, brewed coffee this morning, Granny?â There was an unopened pound of coffee in the cupboard, and I found an old-fashioned percolator to use on the stove.
âThatâd be good. Kin you make biscuits, child?â
I couldnât without a recipe, and I also wasnât up to tackling baking so soon. âHow about toast today? Eggs and ham and toast?â There was half a piece of bread beside Grannyâs cup. How had she managed not to starve?
âSometimes I kin still cook, but sometimes my rheumatism slows down my ambition,â Granny responded, as if Iâd asked my question aloud.
As we sat over a second cup of coffee, which tasted better than Iâd thought it would, I offered my suggestions, hoping I wouldnât offend Granny.
âIâm the type of person that likes to stay busy, Granny. Do you mind if I clean a little?â
âSuit yourself, child. I donât much care. Guess the place could use some fixing up.â
That was an understatement. âMy name is Valerie, Granny. Some of my friends call me Val.â
âValerie. Thatâs a right purty name. I knew a girl named Valerie once. She was purty too.â Granny went off into some story from long ago, mumbling as if she were talking only to herself.
I assumed I didnât need to listen to her all the time and got up to do the dishes. My fork fell from my plate and clattered to the floor.
âSomeoneâs coming,â Granny said quickly, returning to the present. âA fork means a man.â
âThen Iâd better get to work.â I laughed and sped through the dishes, leaving them on a rack to dry. I was careful not to drop any more silver since we didnât need company until I got the place cleaned up.
First I tackled my bedroom. No more sleeping on the couch. I hung the bed clothes on a line I found outside the cabin near a mound Granny said was a root cellar. The sun would freshen them. There was no vacuum so I banished cobwebs with the broom and then attacked dust with a rag and some lemon oil I found in the bathroom cupboard. The label was old so I knew it had been unused for a long time. It smelled tangy and soon the room glowed. The walls were a rough boarding with knotholes showing. The photos were Rueâs. There were