Home Front(16)

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At 2:20, Jolene pulled up in front of her mother-in-law’s gardening shop, the Green Thumb, and led Lulu inside.

A bell tinkled gaily overhead. The small, narrow shop—once an old-fashioned drugstore, complete with a soda fountain—was a treasure trove for gardeners. Michael’s mother, Mila, had opened the shop ten years ago—just for fun—but in the months since Theo’s death, it had become her sanctuary. Like her son, Mila had a strong work ethic, and lately she spent long hours here.

“Yia Yia!” Lulu yelled, yanking free. She charged forward with her usual enthusiasm. “Where are you?”

Mila pushed through the shimmering glass-bead curtain of the back room. “Do I hear my granddaughter?”

“I’m here, Yia Yia!” Lulu squealed.

Mila wore her usual work outfit: a thigh-length tee shirt, a green canvas apron (designed to camouflage her weight), and jeans tucked into orange rubber boots. Heavy makeup accentuated the dramatic beauty of her face—arching jet-black eyebrows, sparkling brown eyes, and full lips that smiled easily. She looked as Greek as she sounded, and she spoiled her grandkids as much as she’d spoiled her son. She had also become the mother Jolene always wanted.

As a young mother, Jolene had spent hours hunkered down in the rich black dirt with her mother-in-law beside her. At first she’d thought she was learning about weeds and the importance of a solid root system and levels of sunlight needed for growth; in time, she’d realized that her mother-in-law was teaching her about life and love and family. When it had come time for Jolene and Michael to purchase a home in which to raise their own family, she had never questioned the location. This town had become “home” for Jolene the moment Mila first hugged her and whispered, “You’re the one for him, but you know that, don’t you?”

“Hello, Lucy Louida,” Mila said, swinging her granddaughter up into her strong arms and setting her on the counter by the cash register.

“Hi, Yia Yia,” Lulu said, grinning. “You want to play patty-cake?”

“Not now, kardia mou.”

Jolene came up behind her mother-in-law and hugged her tightly. For as long as she lived, the scent of Shalimar perfume would remind her of this woman.

Mila leaned back into the embrace. Her dyed black hair—piled up à la an aging Jersey girl—tickled Jolene’s cheek. Then she clapped her plump hands together. “Now it is time to watch my granddaughter run like the wind. I’m ready to go.” Mila gave some instructions to the older man who was her assistant manager, and in no time they were headed to the middle school, where, finally, the sun had brushed the clouds away.

The track was a hive of activity; all around them, students and teachers and parents were readying the track and football field for the events. The opposing team was huddled at the opposite end of the field. Betsy was with her team beneath the goalposts, dressed in her blue and gold sweats. At their arrival, she looked up, waved, and ran up to them.

Betsy grinned. “Hi, Yia Yia.”

Jolene smiled down at her daughter, who for just a second looked proud that they were here to watch her run. She felt a little catch in her throat. This was such a big moment for her daughter; the first school athletic event. Jolene leaned forward and kissed Betsy.

“Oh. My. God.” Betsy gasped and stumbled back, her eyes huge.

“Sorry,” Jolene said, trying not to smile. “No one saw.”

Mila laughed. “The horror. The horror. Your father used to hate it when I kissed him in public also. I did not care about his horror, either. I told him he was lucky to have a mother who loved him.”

“Right,” Betsy said. She glanced over at the team, and bit her lower lip nervously.

Jolene moved forward. “You’re ready for this, Bets.”

Betsy looked up, and in that instant Jolene saw her little girl again, the one who’d loved digging in the sand and capturing caterpillars. “I’m going to lose. Just so you know. I might even fall.”

“You are not going to fall, Betsy. Life is like an apple. You have to take a big bite to get all the flavor.”

“Yeah,” Betsy said, looking miserable. “Whatever that means.”

“It means good luck,” Mila said.

“We’ll go up into the stands to watch,” Jolene said.

“Where’s Dad?” Betsy asked.

“He’ll be here,” Jolene said. “The ferry is just landing now. Good luck, baby.”

Jolene slung Lulu onto her hip and carried her over to the stands. There were probably forty people in the bleachers, mostly moms and kids. They climbed up to a seat in the middle and sat down. About five minutes later, Tami showed up, a little out of breath and red-faced.

“Did I miss anything?” she said, sliding to sit next to Jolene.

“Nope.”

At exactly three thirty, a gun went off and the first event started—the boys’ mile run.

Lulu screamed at the sound. She lurched to her feet and ran back and forth in the bleachers, yelling, “Look at me, Mommy!”

“Where is Michael?” Mila asked worriedly. “I reminded him yesterday.”

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Jolene answered. “He better be.”

Tami shot her an are-you-worried look.