Cracks in the Sidewalk(100)

“Elizabeth most certainly was my daughter,” I wrote, “and I was right there the day she gave birth to you.” I went on to say nothing in the entire world would give me greater pleasure than a visit from him, David, and Kimberly. I wanted to say Kimmie, but since Christian had referred to her as Kimberly I was reluctant to say anything that might change his mind about coming for a visit. I signed the letter “Your loving grandma, Claire McDermott.” I wrote my telephone number big and bold, the way people are inclined to do as they get on in years. Once that letter disappeared into the mailbox, I began waiting.





May 2006


Claire’s heart fluttered as she peered from the window for the fourth time in less than an hour. It was too early and she knew it but she felt too restless to simply sit and wait, so she repeatedly searched the street as if doing so could somehow hurry them along. The trip from Doylestown would be two, maybe three hours according to Christian. He’d said they were coming for lunch. She glanced at the clock and wondered if they might come early and if after so many years she’d recognize them.

Claire stepped back from the window and lowered herself onto the sofa. She began leafing through the photo album she’d taken from the closet. The leather cover was worn away along the edges and many of the black and white snapshots yellowed with age, but in every photo she saw living color and could remember the time of its taking.

The first few pages showed Elizabeth as a bright-eyed teenager. Then came the pages where she was so obviously in love, picture after picture of her and Jeffrey clinging to each other as if no force on earth could pry them apart. After that was the photo of Liz standing sideways with her round belly and, on the following page, holding baby David in her arms.

The camera continued to click as David grew. There was his first tooth, several birthday parties, the day he started school. Kimberly was also there, a ball of bunting propped against a pillow, a toddler clomping around in Liz’s shoes, her mouth smeared with lipstick. Of Christian there was still only the photo taken at the hospital.

How ironic, Claire thought, that the child who’d received the least attention should be the one to find his way back home. She felt the flutter in her chest a second time, so she closed the album and went back to the window. As she stood there stretching her neck to see to the end of the street, she thought about his telephone call. It came five days after she sent the letter.

“Hi,” he’d said in a youthful, upbeat voice. “This is Christian Caruthers. I got your letter, and I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

“Me too,” Claire answered soulfully. Hungry for every morsel of the past twenty years, she asked question after question.

“Everyone is fine,” Christian assured her. “Except Dad, he died last year. That’s how I came across your name and address. It was on some court papers he had stored in the garage.”

Christian didn’t say anything else about Jeffrey. Instead he talked about his brother and sister.

“Dave, he’s married and has a two-year-old daughter. Kim lives in New York now, works for an ad agency, Humphrey something and something.”

“And you?” Claire asked.

“Well, I was hoping to be an elephant trainer.”

“An elephant trainer?” she repeated.

Christian gave a mischievous chuckle. “Yeah, but nobody was hiring elephant trainers, so I settled for stockbroker.”

“You rascal,” Claire replied, then she swung into another string of questions.

They talked for nearly an hour, Christian telling of his family’s life, Claire trying to erase the lost years.

“So, Grandma,” he finally said, “what are you doing next weekend?”

~

A dark blue Ford turned the corner, distracting Claire from her thoughts, but once the car had passed she returned to thinking about her youngest grandson. He’d said he would bring his fiancée. How unbelievable. She’d last seen him crawling on the floor, and now here he planned to get married. Meredith; he’d said her name was Meredith.

A little red sports car turned onto the street and slowed, the driver alone. The car passed by the house, then turned and parked two houses down. Claire watched for a few seconds, but when she saw no other cars she turned back to the living room thinking she’d plump the sofa pillows one last time. Claire had barely lifted the second pillow when the doorbell chimed.

She flung open the door expecting to see Christian and Meredith, but instead a woman who she might have mistaken for Elizabeth stood alone.

“Kimberly?” Claire gasped.

The woman gave a smile and nodded. Suddenly Claire saw the little girl she once was. Through the years her hair had darkened to her mother’s shade, a dark blond that at first glance looked brown.

Claire gasped, raising her hand to her heart, her knees collapsing.

“Grandma!” Kimberly’s hand shot out and grabbed Claire. “Are you all right?” She led Claire inside and helped her to the sofa.

“Sorry,” Claire said. “I suppose it was just the shock of seeing you after all these years, and I never expected—”

“I know. Chris wanted me to surprise you.”

“Well, you certainly did.”

“I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Claire began to tell her where to find the kitchen, but Kimberly obviously knew exactly where to go. When she returned, Claire asked, “Do you remember—”