She wasn’t only in fine physical shape—she was like a woman fifteen years younger than her age. And she’d even remembered to call me Andrew, instead of the various nicknames she’d used during my growing up. That wasn’t senility! A senile woman would have turned back to the earliest one, as I remembered it—particularly since I’d had to work hard to get her to drop the childhood names. Yet the house…
She bustled about the kitchen, dishing out some of the rich, hot soup. She hadn’t been a good cook when I was a kid, but she’d grown steadily better, and this was superlative. “I guess Doc must have pronounced Jimmy well,” she said casually. “He’s gone running off somewhere now. Well, after two weeks cooped up here with the measles, I can’t blame him. I remember how you were when you had them. Notice how I had the house fixed up, Andrew?”
I nodded, puzzling over her words. “I noticed the old furniture. But this Jimmy…?”
“Oh, you never met him, did you? Never mind, you will. How long you staying, Andrew?”
I tried to figure things out, cursing Matthews for not warning me of this. Of course, I’d heard somehow that one of my various nephews had lost his wife. Was he the one who’d had the young boy? And hadn’t he gone up to Alaska? No, that was Frank’s son. And why would anyone hand over a youngster to Mother, anyhow? There were enough younger women in the family.
I caught her eyes on me, and pulled myself together. “I’ll be leaving in a couple of hours, Mother. I just…”
“It was real nice of you to drop over,” she interrupted me, as she had always cut into our answers. I’ve been meaning to see you and Liza soon, but fixing the house kept me kind of busy. Two men carried the furniture down, but I did the rest myself. Makes me feel younger somehow, having the old furniture here.”
She dished out a quarter of a peach cobbler and put it in front of me, with a cup of steaming coffee. She took another quarter for herself and filled her big cup. I had a mental picture of Liza with her vitamins and diets. Who was senile?
“Jimmy’s going to school now,” she said. “He’s got a crush on his teacher, too. More pie, Andrew? Ill have to save a piece for little Jimmy, but there are two left.”
From outside, there was a sudden noise, and she jumped up, to walk quickly toward the back door. Then she came into the kitchen again. “Just a neighbor kid taking a short cut. I wish they’d be a little nicer, though, and play with Jimmy. He gets lonesome sometimes. Like my kitchen, Andrew?”
“Nice,” I said carefully, trying to keep track of the threads of conversation. “But it’s kind of modern.”
“That and the television set,” she agreed cheerfully. “Some new things are nice. And some old ones. I’ve got a foam rubber mattress for my bed, but the rest of the room… Andrew, you come up. 111 show you something I flunk’s real elegant.”
The house was clean, and no rooms were closed off. I wondered about that as we climbed the stairs. I hadn’t seen a maid. But she sniffed in contempt when I mentioned it. “Of course I take care of it myself. That’s a woman’s job, ain’t it? And then, little Jimmy helps some. He’s getting to be mighty handy.”
The bedroom was something to see. It reminded me of what I’d seen of the nineties in pictures and movies, complete with frills and fripperies. The years had faded the upholstery and wallpaper in the rest of the house. But here everything seemed bright and new.
“Had a young decorator fellow from Chicago fix it,” she explained proudly. “Like what I always wanted when I was a young girl. Cost a fortune, but Jimmy told me I had to do it, because I wanted it.” She chuckled fondly. “Sit down,1, Andrew. How are you and Liza making out? StfH fighting over that young hussy she caught you with, or did she take my advice? Silly, letting you know she knew. Nothing makes a man more loving than a little guilt, I always found—especially if the woman gets real sweet about then.”
We spent a solid hour discussing things, and it felt good. I told her how they were finally shipping my youngest back to us. I let her bawl me out for the way the oldest boy was using me and for what she called my snootiness about my son-in-law. But her idea of making him only junior partner in the trucking line at first wasn’t bad. I should have thought of it myself. She also told me all the gossip about the family. Somehow, she’d kept track of things. I hadn’t even known that Pete had died, though I had heard of the other two deaths. I’d meant to go to the funerals, but there’d been that big deal with Midcity Asphalt and then that trouble getting our man into Congress. Things like that had a habit of coming up at the wrong tunes.
When I finally stood up to go, I wasn’t worried about any danger of a family scandal through Mother. If Matthews thought I’d be bothered about her switching back to the old furniture and having this room decorated period style—no matter what it cost—he was the senile one. I felt good, in fact. It had been better than a full round of golf, with me winning. I started to tell her I’d get back soon. I was even thinking of “bringing Liza and the family out for our vacation, instead of taking the trip to Bermuda we’d talked about.
She got up to kiss me again. Then she caught herself. “Goodness! Here you’re going, and you haven’t met Jimmy yet. You sit down a minute, Andrew!”
She threw up the window quickly, letting in the scent of roses from the back. “Jimmy! Oh, Jimmy! It’s getting late. Come on in. And wash your face before you come up. I want you to meet your Uncle Andrew.”
She turned back, smiling a little apologetically. “He’s my pet, Andrew. I always tried to be fair about my children, but I guess I like Jimmy sort of special!”
Downstairs, I could hear a door close faintly, and the muffled sounds of a boy’s steps moving toward the kitchen. Mother sat beaming, happier than I’d seen her for years—since Dad died, in fact. Then the steps sounded on the stairs. I grinned myself, realizing that little Jimmy must be taking two steps at a time, using the banister to pull himself up. I’d always done that when I was a kid. I was musing on how alike boys are wlien the footsteps reached the landing and headed toward the room.
I started to look toward the door, but the transformation on Mother’s face caught my attention. She suddenly looked almost young, and her eyes were shining, while her gaze was riveted on the door behind.
There was a faint sound of it opening and closing, and I started to turn. Something prickled up my backbone. Something was wrong! And then, as I turned completely, I recognized it. When a door opens, the air in the room stirs. We never notice it, unless it doesn’t happen. Then the stillness tells us at once the door can’t have really opened. This time, the air hadn’t moved.
In front of me, the steps sounded, uncertainly, like those of a somewhat shy boy of six. But there was no one there! The thick carpet didn’t even flatten as the soft sound of the steps came closer and stopped, just in front of me!
“This is Uncle Andrew, Jimmy,” Mother announced happily, “Shake hands like a good boy, now. He came all the way from Des Moines to see you.”
I put my hand out, dictated by some vague desire to please her, while I could feel cold sweat running down my arms and legs. I even moved my hand as if it were being shaken. Then I stumbled to the door, yanked it open, and started down the stairs.
Behind me, the boy’s footsteps sounded uncertainly, following out to the landing. Then Mother’s steps drowned them, as she came quickly down the stairs after me.
“Andrew, I think you’re shy around boys! You’re not fooling me. You’re just running off because you don’t know how to talk to little Jimmy!” She was grinning in amusement. Then she caught my hand again. “You come again s$al Soon, Andrew.”