A Google search and a phone call hooked Gia up to the front desk of Cobalt Soul, where the serene-voiced receptionist told Gia that she would give “Sanpreet” her message when she emerged from her healing session.
Apparently, Shelley had reinvented herself, a new name and all. Good for her, Gia thought. Check it off the list. Job done. Sisters notified.
Gia shifted her gaze to the Gulf of Mexico.
The envelope, dampening from the humid sea air, softened in her hands. Raking her bare toe against the weathered, sandy boards of the back steps, Gia blew out her breath through puffed cheeks and turned the envelope over. Her finger twitched to tear open the flap and find out what was inside, but her mind said, Whoa, hold up.
What if it was a living will?
Oof. Gia grimaced. She did not want to find that on her own. Then again, how could she ignore the letter? There was something in here Grammy wanted her to know.
Her hand trembled. The urge to bury her head in the sand was so strong she could taste it. She couldn’t help feeling something irrevocable was about to happen.
Memories spiraled through her head in a string of snapshots. She saw Grammy at the back door, waving them in from the beach on a bright summer day. Her long hair braided and curled on the top of her hair in a bun, wearing a painting smock over her housedress and stocky Doc Marten boots. Sunscreen in her hand. Warning them of sunburns. Darynda standing behind her with a tray of lemonade and iced glasses, a bribe to coax them off the sand.
There was the time Grammy and Darynda took them hiking in the nearby nature preserve. Grammy passing the binoculars over, so they could watch the birds flying in. Blindsided by the spotting of a rare whooping crane. The joyous dance they did, the five of them, arms locked to each other’s shoulders, feet kicking sand in a jig.
Movie night in Moonglow Park, lawn chairs placed side by side for Grammy and Darynda, a quilt spread out for the girls. Giggling and sighing over Fifty First Dates and dreaming of when they’d get to fall in love.
There was a glorious innocence in those days in the way they thought the future was bright and attainable, so sure of themselves and possibilities. Family, they’d believed, could save you from anything.
“Pyewacket,” Gia whispered to the Siamese. “What are we going to do without her?”
The cat, who’d finished her meal, let out a soft meow.
“Got it. Be brave. Just do what needs doing.” She tore open the letter and read it, the words pummeling her hard. Hot tears slipped down her face at the sacred mission her beloved grandmother tasked her with. Pyewacket curled into her lap and she scratched the Siamese behind the ears, taking comfort in the cat’s small, warm body.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “Oh no. This is impossible. Grammy must have been out of her mind when she wrote this. It’s got to be the brain tumor. She’s not thinking straight. I can’t get those two to stay in the same room together, much less finish that cursed quilt.”
Pyewacket dug her claws into Gia’s bare thigh and kneaded.
“Ouch. Hey there, missy, that hurts.” She deposited the cat on the porch and dusted her palms.
The Siamese tossed her haughty head and stalked off.
Breathing so fast she was almost hyperventilating, Gia closed her eyes and leaned her back against the porch rail in the same way she’d done as a child, imagining herself growing smaller and smaller until she was the size of a mouse and no one could see her. She could slip between the floorboards, munching on crumbs the B&B guests dropped when they breakfasted on the veranda, and live there happily forever.
Nah, if she were a mouse, Pyewacket would catch and kill her. The cutthroat Siamese hated mice.
The spring ocean breeze chilled her skin. Without opening her eyes, she wrapped her arms more tightly around her chest and told herself to stay small and out of the way. Don’t be a bother to anyone. If she stayed quiet, then everything would be okay. Grammy would come out of surgery with flying colors. She’d have radiation or chemo or whatever she needed to do, and she’d kick cancer’s ass. She’d get well and sort out her sisters and Gia wouldn’t have to do any of the heavy lifting.