Holiday Homecoming
Author
Pamela Tracy
Reads
17,5K
Chapters
23
Chapter One
“I CAN’T GET a hold of Grandpa. He’s not answering the phone—again.” Meredith’s brother’s tone was more annoyed than frantic. For the last three months, Grandpa Stone had been acting more like a teenager—disappearing for hours, not answering questions directly, grumpy.
“You are still coming, right?” Zack asked.
“I’m just ten minutes from his house.” Meredith pressed on the gas pedal while assessing the dirt road that was more dirt than road. A few miles back some idiot in an old black truck—its windows so darkly tinted she couldn’t see the driver—had almost run her off the road. That was the last thing she needed if Grandpa truly was in trouble.
If...
Raymond Stone was eighty-two, born a little more than two decades after Arizona had become a state. He was hard of hearing, so the phone was more miss than hit lately. Thus her brother’s exasperation.
It was Grandpa’s forgetfulness and wandering, however, that had led to a recent powwow between the two oldest Stone siblings. They had agreed that someone had to stay with him for a while. Family emergencies weren’t Meredith Stone’s forte anymore. But this time it was her grandfather who needed her, and she was the best choice.
The only choice her grandfather might tolerate.
She put her cell phone on speaker so she could talk more easily. “I really hope we’re just overreacting and this isn’t necessary.”
Her brother, Zack, didn’t hesitate. “It’s necessary.”
Ah, the theme of her youth. Necessary was an important word in a household that had a father and mother who were gone too much. Both had been high-end real estate agents working a three city area. When Meredith was young, they’d worked seven days a week because it was necessary. By the time the real estate bubble burst, Meredith was a junior in high school and it was too late to suddenly have mother/ daughter chats or attend father/daughter dances on a Friday night.
Zack and Susan, being the middle and youngest children, had those memories, but not Meredith, the eldest.
Meredith had been raised in an atmosphere where chaos reigned. She, of all the siblings, craved order and control. The drive to excel, make goals and persevere had been necessary for her, as way too often, she’d been the parent. It had gotten her to where she was today: head animal keeper at a small but well-known habitat and at only twenty-eight years of age.
Only once had “necessary” been too high a price. The repercussions from that disaster still kept her awake at night, and it was the biggest reason she’d left her hometown of Gesippi.
She hadn’t gone far.
Zack obviously wasn’t going to say anything else, so Meredith tried once more. “You really think Grandpa needs someone with him all the time? He seemed fine at his birthday party. And he’s made it clear he really doesn’t want me living with him.”
“That party was five months ago.” Zack’s tone changed from worried to resigned. “Plus, he had the whole family doting on him. Even Dad showed up. With the Fourth of July celebration going on, nobody else noticed anything amiss, just me. You didn’t come home two weeks ago for Thanksgiving...”
No, she’d worked instead so that the other employees, the ones with spouses and children, could take the day off.
“All night, Grandpa kept looking over his shoulder as if he was expecting someone. I’m worried he was looking for Grandma. And in the last week, it’s gotten worse.”
Yikes, it was the beginning of December already. Time to decorate for Christmas. Had it really been five months since she’d visited? Bad granddaughter. Bad.
But it was Zack’s nature to fret. As middle child, Zack knew his job description. When they were kids, Meredith had made the rules: bed at nine, lights out at nine-fifteen. Zack had been the nurturer. He’d read Susan her bedtime stories; he checked under beds for monsters. His whole life, he’d expected to find one. He’d have battled it; Meredith would have fed it. Susan would have handed it her doll and ordered, “Play.”
Her parents would have sold it a haunted high-end mansion. The house, of course, would be in foreclosure now.
Zack continued, “Yesterday morning, I stopped by to see how he was doing, and he was clear out past the field. Claimed he was searching for Rowdy. I’m not sure how far he’d have gone if I’d not have showed up.”
Okay, now Meredith understood his worry. Rowdy had been her grandpa’s beloved border collie. Had been being the operative words. Rowdy had died when Meredith was eighteen: a decade ago. He’d died the week after her almost wedding.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I reminded him that Rowdy had gone on to greener pastures and led him back to the house.” Zack was in his second year of community college and determined to be a doctor no matter how long it took. He’d know how to gently break the news of Rowdy’s passing to Grandpa again.
Raymond Stone had never been without animals, both wild and tame. Under his tutelage, she’d learned how to work with the wild ones: how to mend broken wings, sew stitches in a rabbit’s side and bottle-feed a baby white-tailed deer. She had always been drawn to animals that had no one looking out for them. Maybe because back then, at home, no one had been looking out for her, and she very much wanted someone to.
On Grandpa’s farm, she’d also learned to milk cows, groom horses and feed chickens.
This past week, Meredith, as head keeper at a zoo, had been stepped on by an ostrich, kissed by an orangutan and sneezed on by a bear. She loved it, and she had Grandpa to thank for pushing her toward doing what she loved.
“The dog is another thing we have to worry about. Twice now Grandpa’s gotten up in the middle of the night and tripped over Pepper.”
Pepper was a big, old black-and-white dog. He was hard of hearing, like Grandpa, and no longer had the oomph to do much more than follow Grandpa around and sit and wait. Meredith figured the mutt was part golden retriever, part shepherd and possibly a bit standard poodle. Big dog; big heart.
“Grandpa would be miserable without a dog.” Meredith had no idea how she’d manage it, but she’d make sure Grandpa kept this one. Grandpa needed Pepper just as Meredith needed all of her animals. At last count, she’d cared for one hundred and eleven different species. All of which needed her, many of which loved her. But canines were what she did best.
Right now, she didn’t own a dog. Not really. Yoda, her favorite at the zoo, wasn’t really a pet she should keep in the backyard or take to dog parks. Yoda was a high-content wolf dog: half wolf, half German shepherd. He came when he was called and walked on a leash, but he was a little too wild to keep in her tiny apartment. He required space to run and dig and howl.
Plus, Yoda was the property of Bridget’s Animal Adventure, BAA for short. Except that he, like Meredith, didn’t really belong anywhere. At the moment, he was being sequestered in a barn off the property, away from the other two wolves BAA had because of a territorial battle between them that had resulted in a torn ear, twenty-nine stitches and new digs for Yoda.
But she shouldn’t be worrying about Yoda right now. She had her grandpa to think about. Still chatting with her brother, Meredith turned off the main road and drove past a dozen barbed-wire gates that guarded farms full of greasewood, paloverde trees and dirt. It took a good three miles before the tiny town of Gesippi came into view. A minute later, she drove by her parents’ house—the biggest in town—and tried to listen while Zack filled her in on the rest of the family.
By the looks of things at her parents’ house, only her mother was home. No surprise, since Mom rarely left. Her job now was cutting coupons and cleaning the house. Dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway. Instead of real estate, he now sold medical products at trade shows, traveling four out of every five weeks, often to different states. Today, she knew, he’d driven into Phoenix for a meeting and Zack said he wasn’t answering his cell phone.
Zack had just given her the update on Susan, who apparently was in the throes of young love, when Meredith pulled into the driveway of her grandfather’s house.
“I’m glad Susan’s happy,” Meredith said. “But I’m here now, and you know how Grandpa gets if you talk to a phone instead of him. I’ll call you in a bit.”
While his grandchildren were busy grabbing at life with both hands, Grandpa was hard pressed to find things for his hands to do. The end of his story was nearing, and no one in the family—especially him—was prepared for the conclusion.
Meredith turned off her phone and pocketed it, then took a deep breath and tried to figure out what to do first. Should she act as if this was just another visit? No, that wouldn’t work. She’d never stayed overnight...not in a decade, anyway.
At eighteen, thanks to Grandpa’s insistence and money, she’d traveled an hour away to Tucson and the university there. After earning her degree in zoology—in three years instead of four—she’d secured a job at a major zoo in California. As the new kid on the block, her responsibilities hadn’t been as hands-on as she desired. Plus, she hadn’t liked being so far away from Gesippi and her family. What if she were needed?
So, after just one year, she returned to Arizona and found work at BAA in Scorpion Ridge, only seventy-five miles from her home. Far enough away so she didn’t keep bumping into her past; close enough to be available to help her family if they needed her.
But since returning to Arizona, she’d never spent the night in Gesippi.
Grandpa knew the reason why, and he’d be suspicious when he saw her bag, so it would be better to just jump right in and tell him the family’s concerns, and that she was staying indefinitely. Yes, that’s what she’d do. Hopefully, Zack would show up in time to help.
She studied the place where her early childhood had flourished thanks to horses, tree houses, creeks and Grandma’s cookies. All the Stone children had basically lived here while their parents worked evenings and weekends. But once Meredith hit fifteen, she’d been more interested in the boy next door and spending time in the tree house and creek with him. She’d also learned to make Grandma’s cookies because he liked them.
The way to a man’s heart and all...
Too bad the young man in question had been so intent on leaving Gesippi, getting an education and making a name for himself as a journalist that he’d managed to break her heart.
Ten years later, her grandfather’s horses were now gone and the tree house was in as much disrepair as her heart. The boy next door had moved away, married, had a daughter and indeed was making a name for himself by writing and filming documentaries.
He was now a widower. Not that Meredith cared.
His shy younger brother was moving on, too, and getting married.
Good, she wished him the best after their misguided relationship.
Switching off the ignition, she shook away those memories and opened the door, pausing before stepping from the car. The house had always been painted white. Grandpa saw no need for any other color. But now, it was weathered and looked a bit like a white-and-gray-speckled egg. Not a pretty one, either. The gutters circling the house were loose and in one place a section was missing.
Luckily, it was a small house, so, if necessary, she could probably do the painting herself these next few months. The Rittenhouses, Luke and Katie, her bosses at the animal habitat, had kindly changed her schedule so that she was only working weekends. They’d told her to take all the time she needed to settle things here in Gesippi. If Zack was right, she might have to take a full leave of absence. She’d heal the house even if she couldn’t heal her grandfather.
“I’ve got the time,” she whispered to herself. “I might even enjoy it.”
She gazed beyond the house to the barns and stables, now empty. Beyond, Grandpa’s land, currently farmed by someone else, spread as far as the eye could see. When she was young, she’d thought it spread to the ocean. When she hit fifteen, she knew it bumped against paradise.
A boy named Jimmy Murphy.
Slamming the door to her SUV, she stepped down not onto the walkway that led to the front door but onto grass that grew across the pathway that led to the front door.
One more thing to do: mow.
“Grandpa! Where are you?”
Used to be, he was at the front porch door before a visitor could even exit the car. It had driven the family crazy. He’d invite strangers in and offer them something to drink, talk their ear off about his family, his animals and his God. But as his hearing worsened, he couldn’t hear cars approaching. Today, if the volume of the television was any indication, he hadn’t heard her arrive, either. She’d wanted to surprise him, but maybe she should have called.
“Grandpa, it’s me. Meredith!”
The screen door was unlocked, so she stepped onto the porch. Grandpa’s jacket hung on a hook by the door. A pair of old brown boots waited underneath. Two chairs faced the windows. Newspapers were spread over one—Grandma’s. The other chair was empty, although Grandpa’s reading glasses and a half-empty coffee cup were on a nearby table.
The door to the house was unlocked also. Meredith pushed it open until she could see into the living room with its olive green couch, antique coffee table and large-screen television, which had a morning-news show blaring. Meredith turned off the TV before hollering Grandpa’s name again.
When Grandma was alive, something half crocheted always waited in a basket on the floor and partly read books lay open over the couch’s armrests. After five years, very little remained of Grandma’s presence, and if loneliness had a smell, this was it. Meredith knew it well.
Somewhere in the distance she heard Pepper bark. Maybe Grandpa was in the backyard where he liked to feed the squirrels; Pepper liked to chase them.
Veering off the front walk, she headed through the grass—which was past her ankles and full of weeds—and to the backyard.
As she made her way to the backyard, she saw more signs of neglect but no signs of her grandfather. Meredith fought the out-of-control feeling threatening to make her turn around, tuck her tail between her legs and flee.
In Gesippi, she was a Stone and had been what the kids called an overachiever, voted Girl Most Likely To Get Whatever She Wanted. No one knew that in high school she’d filled her calendar—along with her siblings’ calendars—with so many things just so they wouldn’t have to go home.
And, even more funny, the yearbook with that predication had arrived the day after she’d lost what she wanted most.
Jimmy Murphy.
Twelve months after that, one rash act had made her rethink who she was, where she was going and why. Thanks to her grandfather, she’d sidestepped a huge mistake with Jimmy’s younger brother, Danny, and she’d left Gesippi. In the years since, she’d rarely returned because while many were forgiving, none had forgotten.
It was only on television that leaving a groom standing at the altar made for good entertainment.
