But by the time she was able to locate the local police, Grandpa was gone.
Aunty Laura was angry in the letter. She told Brian he had abandoned his loving family. All these years, they had not even known if he was alive or dead. The letter went on to say that their mother had fallen ill in her nursing home in Tallahassee, Florida. Laura included the phone number of the home and underlined and highlighted where she wrote that Brian should call her. The letter ended with Aunty Laura stating that the bike shop and all of Grandpa’s possessions had been left to her since they could not be sure if Brian was coming back.
Although Grandpa had been eighty-eight, Samantha and I were sad to hear that such a kind man had died. Brian did not even shed a single tear; he was just angry he had been pushed out of Grandpa’s will.
“I will fix her wagon,” he ranted. “She thinks she will get everything. Well, Mom has more than Dad ever had, and I am going to collect.”
Samantha, Mamma, and I looked at him. “What the h*** are you talking about?” Mamma asked emphatically. “You can’t collect anything if she is still alive.”
“Well, she is old and just broke her hip, and it was always easy for me to get what I wanted from her.” Brian seemed to be calculating something in his head. “I am going to convince her to come live with us.”
Aunty Laura, of course, had no idea the axis of evil she had accidentally set into motion. Brian was out for revenge, no matter what the cost. Brian and Mamma went into town later that day and contacted Grandma via pay phone. She had just moved from the hospital to a senior retirement home. She had suffered a stroke after breaking her hip.
The next week, Brian flew to Florida to put his plans into action. He stayed there for a week and was actually in a good mood when he got back. Grandma, whom Samantha and I had only met once, had agreed to come live with us. She was old and frail and, at eighty-two, had no idea what was in store.
Although the doctor had stated that Grandma would be unable to make the long trip for at least three weeks, Brian was ecstatic. He rambled on about how his mom had recently sold her condominium and had $60,000 in the bank. She also got a $1,000 pension check every month from her late husband’s estate.
“Well, that is certainly good news.” Mamma’s eyes lit up. “But you know your nosy sister is going to be here all the time if your mother is here. All she has to do is ask the police where we live now.”
Brian nodded. “We have to tell her and invite her here. I want her to know Mom is living with me.” His face creased into an evil grin.
A few days before leaving for Florida again, Brian announced that when Grandma arrived, we would build an addition to the orchard shack we were living in. Samantha and I were excited about having Grandma around, plus Aunty Laura would most likely come to visit now. Maybe life would get better. I would lie awake at night, dreaming of Aunty Laura asking me live with her. I knew Brian and Mamma would never allow it… but a girl could dream.
In August, Mamma and Brian set out on the trip to Florida. They were to be gone a week. Grandma owned a twenty-foot travel trailer and she could live in it until we had better living arrangements. I was worried about an elderly woman with health problems coming to live with us. The icy winters we experienced often blocked all roads to the hospital, and it could be hours before any emergency medical treatment could be provided.
That week, Samantha and I were left with many tasks to complete, but it was an unusually relaxing week. We knew for a fact that we were not being watched, and there was no one forcing us to take baths in the spring water. Fanny drifted in and out of reality and began talking to us more.
We made up a schedule for the week that, if strictly followed, would give us every afternoon to read, and give Aunt Fanny a much-deserved rest while she sat next to us. Samantha and I scurried around every morning. Then we would make our lunch, which was a real treat, and curl up on our mattresses upstairs and bury our faces in the books left by our kind neighbor.
Years later, I often asked myself why I did not run away with Fanny and Samantha during this time. The only explanation I could come up with was that we were completely brainwashed. We were taught that the outside world was worldly and ungodly, and that if you became one of them, you were lost forever. The thought of going to the police never even occurred to us. Brian and Mamma told us if we talked to the police, they would just give us back because the foster system was crowded. I was so brainwashed at the time and Mamma and Brian knew that.
On a blistering day in August, a week after Mamma and Brian had left, we heard the truck driving up the private road to the house. Samantha and I had long ago learned to differentiate the sound of our truck from the sound of any other. As soon as I heard it, my heart jumped; the happy week was over. For a split second, I stood frozen to the ground, and then I raced over to Fanny to make sure she was properly dressed. I tied her head covering and shook out her dress and apron as Samantha ran over to open the gate.
The truck struggled more than usual as it crawled up the steep hill into the driveway, and my heart sank a little—as it always did—when the sun glinted off the hood and the truck rolled up to the gate. As they came to a stop, we peered in the windows, trying to determine what mood Mamma and Brian were in. Brian opened his door and motioned for us to come to the truck. An older woman’s voice floated over to us and I heard her say, “Are we home, honey?”
“Yeah, Mom, let’s get you out of here,” Brian said in a nicer voice than I had ever heard him use. He opened the truck’s back door and I helped him ease Grandma down.
Grandma looked at me and smiled. “Hi, sweetheart,” she said in a frail voice. “I sure am tired. We have been on the road for a long time.”
Mamma got out of the car. I heard the door slam, and the truck shook a little. Grandma shrugged and looked at me.
“She has been pissed at me the whole way.” Her thin white face puckered in a frown. “All I did was ask her where she got her dress. Oh, look, you are wearing the same thing.”
Not sure what to say, I smiled at her instead of answering, and she smiled back.
“That’s okay, honey,” she said as she struggled to walk toward the house. “Brian told me you guys are Amish now. I guess I just didn’t put it all together.”
I helped Grandma up the stairs into the house, and she sat down at the table. She asked for a glass of water and Samantha got it for her. Then Samantha, Fanny, and I stood, just looking at her. Her recently permed hair had a soft, silvery color. She wore a red polyester dress, pearl earrings and red lipstick. Samantha whispered in my ear, asking if I thought she would be allowed to dress like this every day. I shrugged and tried to listen to Mamma and Brian, who were arguing behind the door.
Samantha nudged me, and I realized Grandma was talking to me.
“So how old are you, honey?” she asked while she rolled her false teeth around in her mouth and pushed them back into place.
“I am fifteen.” I fidgeted with my apron and painfully realized how poor my communication skills were.
“You girls got any boyfriends?” Grandma asked with interest.
“Boy, this lady doesn’t have a clue where she is, does she?” Samantha said under her breath. I gave Samantha a warning look, and she rolled her eyes.
“No, not right now,” I answered with a shrug.
“Well,” Grandma fanned herself with a potholder she had found on the table. “It sure is hot here. What do you guys do for fun?”
We looked at her and smiled without saying anything. Grandma looked tired, and although she seemed very sweet, I could tell she did not really understand what was going on, and I knew that our living arrangements were nothing like she expected.
Grandma turned to Aunt Fanny and asked her name. To my surprise, Fanny answered and stepped forward to take Grandma’s hand. Suddenly I understood why Fanny was staring at Grandma and standing so close to her. Fanny had been raised by her own grandmother whom she had loved very much;