Big Jack

“Lots of handsome men give me flowers. Lots of them.” She stroked the petals and lost herself in some blurry memory.

“You said you were here to see your grandmother?” the attendant prompted.

“Yes, that’s right. Janine Whittier. They told me downstairs she was in the common room.”

“Yes, she is. Miss Janine’s a lovely lady. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you. If you need any help, just let me know. I’ll be back shortly. I’m Emma.”

“Thank you.” And since he couldn’t be sure Emma wouldn’t be useful, he braced himself and leaned down to smile in the old woman’s face. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Tiffany. I hope to see you again.”

“Pretty flowers. Cold eyes. Dead eyes. Sometimes shiny fruit’s rotted at the core. You’re not my Joh

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered, and wheeled the old woman away.

Hideous old rag, Trevor thought and allowed himself that shudder before he walked the rest of the way into the common room.

It was bright, cheerful, spacious. Areas were sectioned off for specific activities. There were wall screens set to a variety of programs, tables arranged for game playing, visiting, crafts, seating areas for visiting as well, or for passing the time with books or magazines.

There were a number of people in attendance, and the noise level reminded him of a cocktail party where people broke off into groups and ignored the talk around them.

When he hesitated, another attendant, again female, came over. “Mr. Whittier?”

“Yes, I… ”

“She’s doing really well today.” She gestured toward a table by a su

He had a moment’s panic as he wasn’t certain which woman was his grandmother, then he saw that one of them wore a skin cast on her right leg. He’d have been told, endlessly, if his grandmother had injured herself.

“She looks wonderful. It’s such a comfort to know how well she’s being taken care of, and how content she is here. Ah, it’s such a nice day-not as hot as it was. Do you think I could take her out into the gardens for a walk?”

“I’m sure she’d enjoy it. She’ll need her medication in about an hour. If you’re not back, we’ll send someone out for her.”

“Thank you.” Confident now, he strolled over to the table. He smiled, crouched. “Hi, Grandma. I brought you flowers. Pink roses.”

She didn’t look at him, not even a glance, but kept her focus on the cards in her bony hands. “I have to finish this game.”

“That’s all right.” Stupid, ungrateful bitch. He straightened, holding the box of flowers as he watched her carefully select and play a card.

“Gin!” the other old woman called out in a surprisingly strong, steady voice. “I beat the pants off you again.” She spread out her hand on the table and had their male companion swearing.

“Watch that language, you old goat.” The wi

“I’m very busy,” he said coldly, “and I don’t believe it’s any of your concern.”

“Ninety-six my last birthday, so I like to make everything my concern. Janine’s son and daughter-in-law come in twice a week, sometimes more. Too bad you’re so busy.”

“Come on, Grandma.” Ignoring the busybody, Trevor laid his hands on the back of Janine’s chair.

“I can walk! I can walk perfectly well. I don’t need to be dragged around.”

“Just until we get outside, in the gardens.” He wanted her out, and quickly, so he laid the white box across her lap and aimed her chair toward the doorway. “It’s not too hot out today, and nice and su

Despite the cleanliness of the place, the floods of money that went into maintaining it, all Trevor could smell was the decay of age and sickness. It turned his stomach.

“I haven’t finished counting my points.”

“That’s all right, Grandma. Why don’t you open your present?”

“I’m not scheduled for a walk in the gardens now,” she said, very precisely. “It’s not on my schedule. I don’t understand this change.” But her fingers worried the top off the box as he steered her into the elevator.

“Oh, they’re lovely! Roses. I never had much luck with roses in the garden. I always planted at least one rosebush wherever we were. Remember, honey? I had to try. My mother had the most beautiful rose garden.”

“I bet she did,” Trevor said without interest.

“You got to see it that once.” She was animated now, and some of the beauty she’d once claimed shone through. Trevor didn’t see it, but he did notice the pearl studs at her ears, the expensive shoes of soft cream-colored leather. And thought of the waste.

She continued to gently stroke the pink petals. Those who saw them pass saw a frail old woman’s pleasure in the flowers, and the handsome, well-dressed young man who wheeled her.

“How old were you, baby? Four, I think.” Beaming, she took one of the long-stemmed beauties out of the box to sniff. “You won’t remember, but I do. I can remember so clearly. Why can’t I remember yesterday?”

“Because yesterday’s not important.”

“I had my hair done.” She fluffed at it, turning her head from side to side to show off the auburn curls. “Do you like it, baby?”

“It looks fine.” He decided, on the spot, that even millions in diamonds wouldn’t induce him to touch that ancient hair. How old was the bag of bones anyway? He did the math, just to occupy his mind, and was surprised to realize she was younger than the bitch at the card table.

Seemed older, he decided. Seemed ancient because she was a lunatic.

“We went back, that one time we went back.” She nodded her head decisively. “Just for a few hours. I missed my mother so much it nearly broke my heart. But it was winter, and the roses weren’t blooming, so you didn’t get to see them again.”

She laid a rosebud against her cheek. “I always planted a garden, a flower garden wherever we went. I had to try. Oh, it’s bright!” Her voice quivered as he pushed the chair outside. “It’s awfully bright out here.”

“We’ll go into the shade in just a minute. Do you know who I am, Grandma?”

“I always knew who you were. It was hard, so hard for you to keep changing, but I always knew who you were, baby. We kept each other safe, didn’t we?” She reached back, patted her hand on his.

“Sure.” If she wanted to think he was his father, that was fine. Better, in fact. They had a link between them unlike any other. “We kept each other safe.”

“Sometimes I can barely remember. It goes in and out, like a dream. But I can always see you, Westley. No, Matthew. No, no, Steven.” She let out a relieved breath as she latched onto the name. “Steven now, for a long time now. That’s who you wanted to be, so that’s who you are. I’m so proud of my boy.”

“Do you remember the last time he found us? My father? Do you remember the last time you saw him?”

“I don’t want to talk about that. It hurts my head.” And her head swiveled from side to side as he wheeled her down the path, away from others. “Is it all right here? Are we safe here?”

“Perfectly safe. He’s gone. He’s dead, long dead.”

“They say,” she whispered, and it was clear she wasn’t convinced.

“He can’t hurt you now. But you remember that last time he came? He came at night, to the house in Ohio.”

“We’d think we were safe, but he’d come. I’d never let him hurt you. Doesn’t matter what he does to me, even when he hits me, but he won’t touch you. He won’t hurt my baby.”

“Yes. Yes.” Jesus, he thought, get over it. “But what about that last time, in Ohio? In Columbus.”

“Was that the last time? I can’t remember. Sometimes I think he came but it was a dream, just a bad dream. But we had to go anyway. Couldn’t take a chance. They said he was dead, but how could they know? He said he’d always find you. So we had to run. Is it time to run again?”