Restless Hope

Chapter 7

Isaac

It's strange, returning to the house you grew up in. Gran lives in a drafty Victorian style house. When Polly and I moved in, I thought she lived in a mansion. Her house is only a couple thousand square feet, but compared to the tiny apartments we had stayed in with the chipped linoleum and holes in the walls and crackheads for neighbors, it may as well have been a mansion. Now, all these years later, everything seems a little smaller and a little more worn, though she still has all the same knick knacks I remember. It's no mansion, but it's home.

Gran lays out a spread worthy of a king for me—pulled pork, creamy garlic mashed potatoes and her famous gravy, crisp peas, collard greens tossed with bacon, steaming butter glazed rolls, a flaky slice of apple pie and a mug of warm cinnamon milk. I devour two platefuls under her watchful eye and rave over almost every bite. Her eyes light up in pleasure in a way that warms my heart.

Afterward I volunteer to do the dishes. Gran wants to help, but I insist she rest. Finally she agrees, and catches me up on all the latest gossip while my hands get wrinkled like prunes in the sudsy water (Gran doesn't believe in new fangled inventions like dishwashers). I try to pay attention, nodding politely, but my thoughts keep returning to Beth and our time at Harvard. If you would have told me when I moved to Lexington that I would someday apply for Harvard, I would have laughed at you, but for Beth, she knew she was going there her whole life. It didn't hurt that school came so easy to her.

If it weren't for Beth, I would have been way too intimidated to even attempt to get into Harvard, but she insisted I could make it in. After the night of the prom, when her aunt had banished me from Beth's house and I had come up with our grand plan to run away to college together, she was even more adamant that I at least try.

It still stings, the memories of prom night. The ballroom had been a surprise. Clearly Beth had been planning it for awhile, and it touched me that she had wanted to make the night so special. That moment when our lips came together was the sweetest moment of my life, until her aunt had to ruin it. It still upsets me to think about it, but it was what her aunt had done later that was unforgivable.

I frown as I peek at Gran, who is earnestly telling me about her book club. Maybe I should have returned home sooner. Gran seems so much more fragile and pale now, like the wind might break her if it gusts too hard. Her hair is completely gray, and the lines in her face have deepened. She walks slower these days in shuffling, hesitant steps. Gran has always encouraged me to follow my dreams and I know she has always understood why I had to leave, but I probably shouldn't have stayed away so long. I'd been so wrapped up in myself that I haven't taken care of her well enough. Gran doesn't have anyone but me.

I dry the last dish and put it away.

Gran gives me a kiss and turns in for the night, but I'm still too amped up to rest.

I open the screen door and walk out onto the porch. It is still warm beneath my bare feet. The door slams behind me. I sit down in the wooden swing, lean back and stretch my legs out. It creaks as I rock forward and back, relaxing me. All is quiet, except for the occasional bark of a dog or car that passes.

My thoughts drift back to Harvard.

I turned in my application late, and only because Beth insisted. I figured I might try to go to a state school and visit Beth on the occasional weekend, but she was having none of that. She wanted me to at least try.

The hardest part was the essay. I couldn't think of what to write. I knew that I needed to ace it with something that stood out. I also worried they would reject me if they found out about Polly. The double murders had been splashed across the nation's papers and the internet. It was likely someone might make the connection and poison the waters to my entry. I was toying with ways to change my name, but Beth disagreed.