Before We Were Yours(32)

“I will,” I promise, then hurry off to my car, where I do call Elliot. He doesn’t pick up. Chances are he’s in a meeting, even though it’s after five. His financial clients are international, so demands come in around the clock.

I leave a quick message about the azaleas. He’ll get a laugh out of that, and he often needs it at the end of a high-stress day.

A block down the road, I get a call from my middle sister, Allison.

“Hey, Allie. What’s up?” I say.

Allison laughs, but she sounds frazzled. The triplets are fussing in the background. “Is there any way…any way at all you could pick Courtney up from dance class? The boys are sick, and we’ve been through three sets of clothes today already, and…yeah. We’re naked again. All four of us. Court’s probably standing outside the dance studio wondering where in the world I am.”

I make a quick U-turn toward Miss Hannah’s, where I was a ballet and pageant class failure back in the day. Fortunately, Court has real talent. At her spring recital, she was amazing. “Sure. Of course I’ll do it. I’m not even very far away. I can be there to get her in ten.”

Allison answers with a long sigh of relief. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver. Today, you’re my favorite sister.” It’s been a running joke since childhood, the question of who was Allison’s favorite. As the middle kid, she had her pick. Missy was older and more interesting, but I was younger and could be bossed around.

I laugh softly. “Well, that’s totally worth an extra trip across town.”

“And please don’t tell Mama the boys are sick. She’ll come over here, and I don’t want to take any chances on Daddy being exposed to whatever this bug is. Drop Courtney off at Shellie’s house. I’ll text the address to you. I already called Shellie’s mom. They’re fine with Court spending the night.”

“Okay, will do.” Of the three of us, Allison is the most akin to Honeybee. She operates like a four-star general, but since the boys came along, she’s been overpowered by an invading army. “I’m almost at the studio. I’ll text you once I’ve rescued your daughter.”

We hang up, and a few minutes later, I’m pulling up to Miss Hannah’s. Courtney is standing out front. She brightens when she sees that she hasn’t been abandoned.

“Hey, Aunt Aves!” she says as she slides into the car.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Mom forget me again?” She rolls her eyes and lets her head sag to one side, a motion that makes her seem way more than ten years old.

“No…I was just lonesome for you. I thought we could hang out, go to the park, slide down the slide, play in the play fort, that kind of thing.”

“Okay, seriously, Aunt Aves…”

It bothers me that she’s so quick to reject the idea. She’s too grown-up for her own good. Wasn’t it just yesterday that she was tugging my pants leg and begging me to climb trees with her at Drayden Hill? “All right, your mom did call me to pick you up, but only because the boys are sick. I’m supposed to take you to Shellie’s house.”

Her face lights up, and she straightens in the passenger seat. “Oh, awesome!” I give her the stink eye, and she adds, “Not about the boys being sick, I mean.”

I offer an ice cream stop, our favorite activity once upon a time, but she tells me she’s not hungry. She only has eyes for Shellie’s house, so I turn on the GPS and strike out in that direction.

She whips out her cellphone to text Shellie, and my thoughts switch tracks. Arcadia and May Crandall overshadow the pangs of watching my niece rush headlong toward teenagerhood. What will May’s response be when I ask her about that word, Arcadia?

It’s looking less likely that I’ll find out today. By the time I drop Courtney off, it’ll be supper hour at the nursing home. The staff will be busy, and so will May.

I turn off the main road and wind through tree-clad streets lined with stately turn-of-the-century homes surrounded by perfectly manicured lawns and gardens. We’ve gone quite a few blocks before I realize why the trip to Shellie’s house has such a familiar feel to it. Grandma Judy’s home on Lagniappe is not far away.

“Hey, Court. Want to run by Grandma Judy’s house with me before I drop you at Shellie’s?” I don’t like the idea of going alone, but it has just occurred to me that there might be some answers to be found among Grandma Judy’s belongings.

Courtney lowers the phone, giving me a bemused look. “It’s kinda creepy, Aunt Aves. Nobody’s there, but all Grandma Judy’s stuff is still around.” Her bottom lip pouts outward. Big blue eyes regard me earnestly. It’s hard for the kids to accept the rapid change in Grandma Judy. This is their first real brush with mortality. “I’ll go with you if you really need me to.”

“No, that’s all right.” I continue past the turn-off. There’s no reason to involve Courtney. I’ll run over to Lagniappe after I drop Court at her friend’s.

She’s clearly relieved. “Okay. Thanks for picking me up today, Aunt Aves.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

A few minutes later, she’s trotting up the driveway to Shellie’s house, and I’m bound for Lagniappe Street and the past.

Blunt-force grief strikes me as I pull into the drive and step from the car. Everywhere I look, there’s a memory. The roses I helped my grandmother tend, the willow tree where I played house with the little girl from down the street, the Cinderella’s castle bay window upstairs, the yawning porch that served as a backdrop for prom photos, the water garden where the multicolored koi bobbed for cracker crumbs.