Page 97 of Upstate

“Promise me you’ll drink that down, Hazel,” Rhon said, putting a bottle of water in my hands.

“I promise,” I lied. In truth, I’d already left a half-dozen half-full bottles scattered around the lawn. “You worry too much, Rhon.”

“Don’t tell me not to worry, Hazel.” She pulled her mouth into a stern line. “The aide at the nursing home says you’re pushing yourself too hard in physical therapy, trying to make up for all those months in lockdown.”

“I may not have many years left in me, Rhon,” I replied, “but now that I’ve got my family back, I want to make the most of them. And when I say family, that includes you.”

Her stern mouth tugged up at the corners. “I suppose you’ll want me to start calling you Aunt Hazel like everyone else does.”

Just then, Wren and Eric stepped into the shop. As if to prove Rhon’s point, Wren kissed my cheek and said, “Fare thee well, Auntie Mame.”

“Stop with that now,” I laughed. It’s a ridiculous nickname, but Wren enjoys casting me as the eccentric aunt in the splendid production he’s making of his new life.

“Stay for some iced tea at least,” Audrey said, returning with a tray.

“Let me help.” Eric kindly took the pitcher and poured. I’m happy for Wren that he’s found a man who’s always quick to do someone a kindness. I’m all for love and passion, but the longer I live, the more it seems to me kindness is the true bedrock of a relationship. Even after I became a nameless stranger, you were always kind when I came to sit by your bed or push your wheelchair out into the sunshine. Without having any idea who I was, you’d take my hand and thank me for being there. I’d always say, “This is where you are, Evelyn. Is there somewhere else I ought to be?”

“I’ve been meaning to tell you how well the posters are selling,” Wren said, sipping.

“We’ve had to order reprints,” Eric chimed in. “Evelyn’s pulp fiction covers look fabulous as framed posters. And we’ve sent at least a dozen customers to Red Barn Books to buy the paperbacks.”

“People love hearing the story behind those novels,” Audrey said. “Most of the sales are to collectors online, though. Which reminds me, Hazel, I owe you a check.”

“I’ve decided to donate my share of whatever you make selling Evelyn’s books to that lesbian archive in Brooklyn I told you about. Why don’t you send them the check directly and take the deduction yourself?”

“If that’s what you want.” Audrey exchanged my water bottle for a sweet iced tea. “Sorry, Rhonda.”

“She’s a grown woman,” Rhon said gruffly, pretending not to care. “She can drink whatever she wants. Besides, it’s about time I head home. I’m fostering a mama cat who just had a litter of kittens.”

“Goodnight, Rhon,” I said. “I love you, you know.”

“Love you too, Aunt Hazel.” Rhon was trying for sarcasm, but it came out sincere as a prayer. Wren and Eric said their goodbyes, too, and walked Rhon out to her car. There’d been so many people at Red Barn Books that day, I heard it said the line of vehicles stretched down Ridgetop Road for half a mile.

“Tent’s all packed away.” Sam came into the barn, his sweaty shirt stuck to his ribs. My eyes met Mai’s and I knew we were both thinking that boy needs more meat on his bones.

“Thanks so much, Sam.” Audrey handed him an iced tea. “Here, this one’s yours.”

“Cheers,” he said, clinking his glass to hers.

Mai raised an eyebrow. I responded with a shrug. Sam and Audrey’s friendship was a perennial topic of conversation between us. We’d lean our heads together in the backseat as if John and Patience couldn’t hear us plotting their son’s future. Mai is impatient for Sam to declare his feelings and take that first step on the road to giving her grandchildren. I’ve warned Mai it would only set them back if Sam said something Audrey wasn’t ready to hear.

Sam is smitten, there’s no doubt about that, but I’m not convinced he’s the right man for Audrey. She may not see it herself, but Audrey’s a force to be reckoned with. Like you were, Evelyn. If they did pair up, it would probably be like it was between us. Our love may have been big as a solar system, but you were always the sun around which my planet circled.

Mai invited Sam and Audrey to come on the trip to Vietnam, figuring the forced proximity of a twenty-four-hour flight might spur on their relationship. Sam’s too busy with his homestead, though, and Audrey’s focused on writing her new book. It’ll be a memoir about her life, she told me, but our lives, too, yours and mine, our three stories intertwined.

“I’m ready to hit the road,” John announced from the bookshop’s doorway. “Anyone else need to use the port-o-potty first?”

“I’m fine.” Patience hugged her son goodbye. “See you Saturday?”

“Absolutely! You can meet my new pigs,” Sam said, smiling so wide it stretched the scar on his chin.

“I’m ready, too.” Mai stood up, steadier on her legs than I’ll ever be again. Faking a sway, she waved Sam over. “Come help your bà.”

Sam rushed to her side, then glanced back at me, concerned. Audrey picked up on it. “Go ahead, I’ll walk Hazel to the car.”

Audrey brought over my walker and made sure I had a good grip before I hauled myself up. The others had gone ahead. I took a step forward. She stopped me.

“Actually, Hazel, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, like blowing through a straw. “I think I’m ready to take my ring back.”

“Oh, of course.” I looked down at the band of gold that’s taken the place, these past three months, of the ring you would have given me. As much as I loved seeing it there, I knew it was never mine. Each night before bed, I’d slide it over my knuckle to make sure it wasn’t stuck. My fingers had swollen in the heat, though, and I struggled to get it off.

“If you can’t right now—” Audrey started to say.

“No, it’s fine. Here you go.” I gave her the ring with my right hand, curling my left out of sight to hide the scrape it left behind. “Are you going to put it back on or put it away?”

“Not on, no.” She picked up a greeting card from the front table of the bookshop—the same table where, eighteen months ago, I’d instructed Rhon to leave that second edition of Leaves of Grass for Audrey to find. She put the ring in the card (a silly thing of glittery rainbows and dancing leprechauns) then slid the card into an envelope. “I decided to hide this in the secret compartment where Evelyn kept her treasures. That way, the ring David gave me will always be here, with me, even if it’s out of sight.”

“That sounds perfect,” I said, leaning over the walker’s handle to hug this girl who’s as dear to me as the daughter I never had.

I imagine a date fifty years from now, after Audrey no longer lives in the house that was once our home. The new owners might be curious about the cutout in the toe-kick of the dining room’s built-in shelves. Maybe they’ll grab your pry bar from the workshop, the one you used to pry out rusty nails when we replaced the siding and stuffed the kitchen’s walls with wool. Will that glittery card be reduced to shimmering dust by then? Or will those leprechauns still be doing their silly dance? The band of precious metal will certainly have stood the test of time, its golden circle solid as a fairy tale. What story will they write, I wonder, about the single heart held by two hands, one reaching back into the past, the other stretched towards the future?

I remain, as always, forever yours. Love, Hazel