Previously Loved Treasures (Serendipity #2)(15)

“Then why are you calling?”

“Because I’d like to get to know you,” Ida said. She wanted to say, “Because I’m hoping you’ll come and live with me, let me love you the way I would have loved your daddy if he’d have let me,” but she heeded the wariness in Caroline’s voice.

“Missus Sweetwater, I’m real sorry that Daddy did you as he did, but I honestly don’t know where he is. He disappeared without—”

“I know,” Ida cut in. “I paid good money for a private investigator to go looking for James. I know he can’t be found, but I’m happy Mister Caldwell found you.”

Caroline laughed. “I’m not that hard to find.”

“Thank the Lord.” Ida sighed.

“It’s sweet of you to say that,” Caroline replied, “but the sorry truth is you don’t know a thing about me, and I don’t know a thing about you.”

“I know,” Ida replied sadly. “And I’m to blame. I should’ve hired Mister Caldwell years ago. I waited too long, that’s the problem.”

“Well, I don’t know that I’d say—”

“Yes, indeed, it’s my fault!” Ida said emphatically. “When James stomped out the door I should have insisted Big Jim go after him, but I didn’t.” The years of regret made her words seem weighted and heavy. “You never want to believe a person is what they are, so I kept telling myself James would come home. I sure never figured him for one to abandon his family.”

“Neither did Mama.” Caroline’s voice was tinged with resentment.

“I know,” Ida said. “The investigator who found you told me about your poor mama. All those years.” She sighed again. “If only I’d known…”

“I doubt there’s much you could have done,” Caroline said. “Mama was crazy in love with Daddy. No matter how much dirt he dumped on her, she’d forgive him. She hated New Orleans but stayed there ’cause she kept thinking he’d come back.”

Even though Ida’s heart already knew the answer, she asked, “Did James ever send money? A letter maybe?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not even a telephone call?”

“Nothing. The last we heard from Daddy was the day he walked away.”

A whoosh of disappointment gushed through the telephone line.

As they spoke Caroline found herself talking about things she hadn’t spoken of for years, not since her mama’s death. “Living in New Orleans was almost worse than dying,” she said. “Mama cried all the time, and the place stank of tears, sweat, and whiskey. In the summertime there wasn’t a breath of air in that apartment, and sweat dripped off my face even if I was standing still. ‘Please, Mama,’ I used to beg, ‘let’s move to New Jersey so we can be close by Aunt Pauline.’ Mama was just as miserable as me, but she wouldn’t move. She kept right on believing Daddy was gonna take a turn for the good and come running home to save us.”

“James is my boy,” Ida said sadly, “but I’m mighty ashamed of him. It’s not right for a man to treat a woman such a way. “

“It sure isn’t,” Caroline answered, thinking also of Greg.

The minutes turned into hours as they continued to talk, Caroline asking about James and Ida asking about Joelle. You might think it would be strained or unusual, but that’s not at all the way it was. Shortly after she finished telling a story about the year Big Jim built a scarecrow to keep watch on the five stalks of corn he’d planted in the side yard, Ida asked if Caroline would consider coming to live in Rose Hill.

“Live in Georgia?” Caroline stammered.

“I know it’s sudden,” Ida said, “but I’m getting on in years and there’s no telling how much time I’ve got left.” She paused, then added, “You’d like it here, I know you would.”

“I’m sure I would,” Caroline answered politely. “But I’ve got a job and…” As the words slipped from her mouth, thoughts of what she really had in Philadelphia settled in her head. She had a job she was on the verge of leaving and a boyfriend who was unfaithful. It wasn’t all that much to stay for.

“Rose Hill’s a real nice town,” Ida said. “I’ve got a big house, and I make the best peach pie you’ve ever stuck a tooth in.”

The thought of leaving blossomed like a flower in Caroline’s mind. Having a grandmother was like having warm soup on a cold day; it was being loved instead of being used. Her voice turned mellow. “This is kind of sudden, are you sure? You’ve never even met—”

Ida laughed. “I don’t need to have met you. I already love you.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. You’re my granddaughter, my own flesh and blood.”

Although she had not yet said yes Caroline found herself nodding in agreement with sentiments the new grandma offered, and she mellowed at the mention of things like home-baked pies and crocheted doilies.

When Ida asked again if she would come to Rose Hill Caroline stumbled over a few feeble excuses about her job and the apartment, but as she listened to her words they had a familiar sound. “I can’t leave because…”

She recognized the voice. Perhaps it was those remembrances of New Orleans or maybe it was her recollection of a daddy whistling as he walked off leaving her mama behind, but Caroline suddenly envisioned herself wearing her mama’s shoes. She knew that if she stayed she would, in time, forgive Greg and they’d go back to the same life. He’d lean on her to do the work he should have done, and he’d come home late smelling of perfume and alcohol. Years from now she would be her mama, a woman used up and left behind.