Chapter Ten

In some houses kids wake to the aroma of Saturday morning pancakes. Maybe to waffles with strawberries and whipped cream. I woke up that morning to the smell of something burning.

In the kitchen, I found Grandpa Aldo standing in front of the stove, a spatula in his hand. He was dressed in his bathrobe, stirring a mound of brown scrambled eggs. The burner beneath the pan glowed an angry red.

I flipped the switch for the exhaust fan, sure the smoke alarm was about to start screaming any second. "Grandpa?" I said, touching him on the arm.

He turned toward me and said something garbled in a mix of Italian and English.

"Grandpa?" I said again.

He wouldn't meet my gaze. I wasn't sure what to do, but I had to get him away from the stove so I could deal with the smoldering eggs. I didn't want to scare him or have him freak out. Then I remembered something Mom had mentioned about distraction.

"Those are done," I said casually, reaching over to turn the burner off and move the pan off the heat. "How about we make some toast to go with them?"

I sat him down in a chair and got out the cheap sandwich bread. As I helped him put the slices into the toaster on the table, he stared at me, unsure. I put my hand on his hand and moved the lever down, to sink the bread into the machine. "There you go," I said. The butter was already in reach, so I got a table knife out, along with a plate. "Watch for the toast to pop up."

"Where is mama?" Grandpa asked in a small voice. Fear etched his face.

I patted him on the back. "She's coming later. Everything's fine."

There was no way he was going to see his mom, but it felt important to go along with it. What good would it do to bring him around to the truth when he was in a state like this? I hadn't seen him that bad since he came to live with us. I sure hadn't seen him go wherever he was. The mumbling, the mentions of Rob or the ghost or whatever he thought he was seeing was weird, but seeing him check out like that—in the midst of doing something so normal like making eggs—and now asking for his mom ... That was pretty scary. Mom had made him a doctor's appointment for Monday afternoon. I hoped that there was something else the doctor could do. It definitely didn't seem like my grandpa was doing better.

At any rate, he looked satisfied with my answer and leaned back in his chair

I hustled over to the stove and set the egg pan in the sink, flooding the gross mess with water, which released a huge cloud of stinky steam. "Ugh!" I moved back from the sink and fah, I5%">

Just as I started cracking, Lena padded into the kitchen in her panda bear pajamas. "What's going on? It stinks in here," she said, scratching at her hair, which looked windswept, like she had been in a tornado.

"We're making breakfast," I said. "Everything's fine."

Frowning, she sat down at the table across from Grandpa, whose gaze was glued to the slots of the toaster. "Hi." Lena yawned and brought her legs up under herself on the kitchen chair. "I'm hungry," she said.

"Why don't you help Grandpa with the toast, okay?" I sprinkled the broken eggs with salt and pepper and a dash of milk and whipped them quickly with a fork. They sizzled as they hit the buttered pan.

At last, the toast popped up. Grandpa seemed startled at first but then took the hot slices out and laid them on the table.

"Do you want this?" Lena asked, sliding the plate that was next to the toaster closer to him.

He put the toast on it.

"Here's the butter," Lena said, getting out of her chair. She dug the knife into it and held the handle out to him. "You like it on your toast, Grandpa. Just spread it around." He didn't move to take it from her, and Lena gave me a plaintive look.

"Why don't you help him butter it, Lena."

"Grandpa, what's wrong?" Lena said, setting down the knife on the butter plate and slipping a thin arm around him. "It's okay. We're here."

I saw his eyes close at her touch, his face relax.

And in that moment I felt a small measure of relief too.

They stayed in that embrace for a moment, and then Lena re-leased her hold around his sagged shoulders and went on with buttering and cutting the toast into triangles, like everything was normal. I couldn't have been more thankful she was nine and resilient or clueless, or insightfully smart for her age. She had the good sense to not freak out.

I finished scrambling the eggs and scooped them onto three small plates. As I carried them to the table, Grandpa's posture straightened a little. Humming some chipper song, Lena slid a piece of toast onto each of our plates.

"Mangia," I encouraged Grandpa.

"There's too much pepper," Lena said, using her fork to pick at the pile in front of her.

"You didn't even try them yet. Take a bite."

She sighed and dug in.

"Good, right?"

Seeming to follow Lena's lead, Grandpa reached for his fork and shakily lifted some eggs to his mouth. His chewing was sloppy this morning, but at least he was eating.

I took a bite, finally realizing how hungry I was, even after breathing in the awful smell of burning eggs. These were good scrambles I'd made. Creamy, fluffy, seasoned just right, not a speck of brown to be seen.

"Hey, Grandpa," Lena said around a mouthful of toast, "you've got eggs on your chin."

He didn't respond to her, but he did dab at his chin with his sleeve. So, maybe he was more with us for the moment.

"Sorry, guys. I forgot napkins," I said, springing up to get some paper towels. Folded in half, they worked just as well as the fancy ones at the store.

As I floated the makeshift napkins on to Lena's and Grandpa's laps, the buzzer to the apartment rang. "God, what now?" I glanced up at the clock—it was nine. "What time is your play date?"

"One," said Lena. "Tori's mom is picking me up."

I walked over to the intercom. Our building wasn't a cool one that dialed your phone or anything—that would have been too modern for this place. "Hello?" I said, pressing the brown talk button.

"Hey. It's Jason."

I froze in place, my heart suddenly up in my throat. I managed to mumble, "Um, it's pretty early over here."

"Yeah, I know. You didn't answer your phone."

"It's off." I didn't explain to him again the whole thing about trying not to use Mom's minutes, which we could barely afford. Maybe the phone had been turned off for more than that reason, anyway. To say I wasn't in a what-do-I-do-about-Jason mode would be a lie.

"I was in the neighborhood. Can I come up?"

"Uh..." I glanced over at the breakfast table, where Grandpa was focusing on hoisting another bite to his mouth and Lena was tearing into another piece of toast, crumbs all over her face. They were a mess, and Grandpa had just had a major freak-out. Not to mention that I was a mess in my worn yoga pants and the old T-shirt I liked to sleep in. My hair hadn't seen a brush yet—I hadn't even spashed water on my face. However I felt about Jason, I didn't want him to see me—us—like this.

And then there was the state of our place. The main parts of the apartment were clean, but our secondhand furniture looked lived in, rumpled. My room was a mess, thanks to Lena's stuffed-animal collection, which had had some kind of a war last night and was scattered all over the room. And the kitchen? I just couldn't imagine showing him into this cramped place that now reeked of blackened eggs. I tried to sound casual when I said, "It's not the best time for you to visit."

"Okay, well," Jason said, "can you come down, then? I trie k than">"d to call you because I want to take you—all of you—someplace today. We've only got a few hours."

"I'm in my pajamas. We all are." He laughed. "Nice. I'll wait while you get dressed."

"You don't understand. You can't just rush these guys," I said. "It's gonna take me a while to get them ready."

"I'll go get a mocha and come back in an hour. That long enough?" There was hope in his voice. A kind hope. He was here to do something for us. Not that I knew where he wanted to take us.

"What are we doing?"

"It's a surprise for Aldo," Jason said, his voice warm. "It's on the list. I think he's gonna love it. Just say yes. It's a limited-time offer."

I smiled in spite of myself. "Okay, okay. You wore me down. Give us an hour."

"Perfect. Later." Jason clicked off the intercom.

I sat back down at the table and started eating.

"Was that your boyfriend?" asked Lena.

"He's not my—"

"I like him. Where are we going?"

"I don't know, Lena. Let's just finish breakfast and get dressed."

Grandpa Aldo's plate was empty. He had a concerned look on his face.

"Oh, Grandpa. I forgot to get you some coffee. Let me make some quick." I walked over to the coffeemaker and saw that the grounds were in, the water poured, but the switch was off. Grandpa must have tried to get that going before the eggs. I clicked the on button, and the gurgling machine began its work.

I patted Grandpa on the back and kissed his cheek as I collected his dishes. "Thank you for trying to start breakfast for us," I whispered.

He smiled, and I felt like he was back among us. His eyes seemed clearer, more focused. That was a good thing. I was hop-ing that whatever destination Jason had planned to take us to was going to make Grandpa happy, just like the sailboat had. After the morning's beginning, we sure did need something to help us start over.

I shooed Lena off to her room to change and walked Grandpa down the hall to help him pick out some clothes for the day. He sat down in the desk chair as I laid out clean boxers, T-shirt, socks, pants, polo shirt, and sweater on the bed in the order he would need to put them on.

"You get dressed, Grandpa. If you need help, just yell for me."

"Grazie, cara mia," he mumbled.

"You're welcome," I said, softly closing the door and praying k ant>

***

"So, we just have about half an hour," Jason said, cutting the engine of the Audi in the driveway of his mom's listing in Magnolia. Parked in front of him was a green truck with a landscaping logo emblazoned on the doors.

Holly leaned forward from the back seat, her eyes wide. "What is this place?"

Jason counted that amazed look as a victory. Not saying anything, he hopped out of the car, leaving the door open for Holly and Lena. Then he pulled the handle of the passenger side and reached out a hand to Aldo. "Come on," he reassured with a smile. "We're going to see something really neat, Mr. Santucci. Let me help you out."

"Aldo," he said, accepting Jason's offer. "My name is Aldo."

"Sure, Aldo." Once the old guy's feet were firmly on the ground, Jason shut the door and led the way up the front steps. Though he had the combination for the key safe for the realtors, he found the front door unlocked. Probably his mom had been by to get the gardeners started on the work in the backyard.

"This is the biggest house I've ever seen," said Lena in a breathy voice. "This is like a mansion."

They stepped into the foyer and Holly paused, marveling at the huge chandelier glittering above the white-carpeted dual staircase.

"Pretty cool, huh? My mom's selling this house for someone."

"Why are we here again?"

"You'll see in a second," Jason said, leading them deeper into the home.

Holly walked slowly, pacing her stride to Aldo's shuffling steps while Lena ran ahead of the pack, shrieking at each new room they passed through. Jason couldn't help smiling at her obvious delight. She was a funny kid—and maybe it was because she was only nine—but she had a sense of excitement that he rarely saw in Holly anymore. Maybe it was the freedom of being the one looked after instead of the one in charge. He glanced over at Holly, her hand in her grandfather's, her eyes focused on his feet, making sure he wouldn't fall.

"Can we watch a movie in here?" Lena said, standing in front of a giant screen flanked by a wall of built-in equipment and surrounded by leather chairs that seemed meant for a Hollywood screening room. It was a nice media center, for sure.

"Nope, we're headed outside."

"You doing okay, Grandpa?" Holly asked, rubbing her hand on Aldo's back. He nodded, and so they all continued, following Jason through a sunroom and at last stepping out onto the patio, with its vista of the upcoming grounds.

Holly sucked in a breath. "There's a garden?"

"A very specia kA vp hl one," Jason said.

"He used to garden," she whispered to him.

"I know. You showed me the list, remember?"

Holly displayed a smile of such gratitude that Jason felt his heart squeeze in his chest just a little, his stomach tense. He loved that light in her face, never wanted that to go away.

Aldo closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, pure pleasure filling his face. "So sweet," he said.

"Yeah, smells like summer!" proclaimed Lena, twirling in a circle on the flagstones. The sound of lawnmowers rose above the birds.

Jason breathed in the scent of the freshly cut grass—so pure and reminiscent of an afternoon nap in the sun. It always calmed him. And he needed calming. His big reveal was next. He only hoped that Holly would appreciate what he'd found in the greenhouse and that it would make some kind of difference to Aldo. A difference that would mean something to Holly.

"This way," he called out to Lena, who was running from rosebush to rosebush sniffing at the tight, unopened buds. They passed the two landscapers, and then the sound of their mowers faded slightly as Jason and his guests turned down the secret path and the greenhouse came into view.

Holly looked at him quizzically, her blue eyes pale against the navy of her sweatshirt and the deep green of the grass and the hedges lining the pathway.

"You'll see," he said, patting her on the shoulder, resisting the temptation to wrap his arm around her waist.

"Cool!" shouted Lena, trying to peer in through the glass. "Can we go in there?"

Aldo stood on the threshold. One hand up on the glass.

"I wanted you to see this, Aldo. I heard you were quite a gardener when you were younger," Jason said, pushing open the door and ushering everyone inside.

The warm air was laced with the scent of rich dirt and the brightness of growing things.

"This is awesome!" Lena skipped down the row of plants, reading the tags.

Aldo, meanwhile, stood motionless next to Holly in the doorway.

"Giardino," Aldo mumbled.

"Yes, Grandpa. See all the vegetables!" Holly took his hand and led him to the caged tomato plants in front of them. Jason knew he should have looked away, just let the two of them have their moment, but he couldn't.

Aldo reached out a wrinkled hand toward a cherry tomato gleaming on the vine.

Holly glanced back toward Jason. "Is it okay?"

"Sure," he said.

"Go ahead, Grandpa," Holly said, patting him on the arm.

Aldo twisted the fruit, and it came away from its stem—perfect, orange-red, ripe. He rubbed it on the chest of his sweater and then popped it into his mouth. The lines around his eyes deepened with his smile as he chewed.

"Good?"

He nodded, and then he lifted his hand to his nose.

"Tomato vine smell?" Holly asked, watching him sniff.

"Like my garden," Aldo said.

"Yes," Holly said. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Just like that big garden you had with Grandma. You had so many tomatoes. Do you remember that house on the hill? Your backyard was filled with your rows of vegetables."

He didn't answer, but the smile on his face wouldn't fade. She moved him toward another caged plant, and Aldo reached out for a small roma tomato this time.

"You won't eat that in one bite," Holly said with a little laugh.

"Si." Aldo, after polishing the tomato on his sweater, slipped it into his pocket.

"Grandpa! There's lettuce down here!" Lena came running up the aisle toward them, grabbing for Aldo's hand. "Five different kinds."

"Go," Holly said, waving him on. "Lena, take it slow, please."

Lena pulled Aldo gently toward her find.

"Jason, this is amazing. Thank you," Holly said, taking a seat on the bench near the door. "I can't believe you remembered something from the list. I guess I didn't expect you to pay attention when I showed it to you."

"Of course I was paying attention. This is important."

"Well, thanks." She gave him a little smile. "I think the garden is actually helping. Check them out." She gestured toward Lena breaking off little bits of lettuce and letting Grandpa Aldo nibble them.

"Did I mention lunch is included with the tour?" Jason said, laughing.

Holly's eyes twinkled a little in the sunlight streaming in through the glass. "You know, you're pretty funny."

"Yeah? I never thought of myself that way," he said.

"Me neither." She leaned back a little, seeming to study him. "You were always the serious one. The quiet, solid guy."

"I guess so."

"No, I know so. Even Rob used to say that about you."

Jason took a deep breath and said what he had meant to say the other day. "You know, I saw you, that first day of high school, out in front of the cafeteria. I was just too lame to say anything."

She reached for his hand. "Really?"

"Yep. You had your schedule out, like you were trying to find your way somewhere, and I know I should have stopped to help you. I couldn't do it."

Holly's face brightened. "You thought I was cute."

"Maybe," Jason said with a shrug.

She shoved his shoulder. "There you go, being funny again."

"Yeah, well, I've regretted that moment for a long time."

They sat there quietly for a moment, watching Aldo and Lena checking out the herb section of the greenhouse. Lena picked something from a deep-green bush and held it to her grandpa's nose. The look on his face was pure joy.

Jason leaned over and kissed Holly softly. "Thank you for giving me a chance," he said.

Holly smiled, opening her eyes. "Me too," she said, surprising him. She touched his cheek with her palm and then rose from the bench to walk down the fragrant aisle toward her family.

He watched her go, realizing more than ever that he was falling for her.

***

"You can't blame them for enjoying themselves," Aldo says. "They are alive. What would you have them do? Act like nothing goes on, nothing changes? They can't see you, Roberto."

You perch on the windowsill in the living room. Aldo's been left alone to zone out to TV while Holly supervises Lena getting ready for bed. You can hear her little sister complaining about the taste of the toothpaste, the temperature of the brushing water.

"Let me ask you this, my friend. Did you truly love my granddaughter? Please be honest."

"I think so."

"You don't think love. You love with your heart," Aldo says, shaking his head slowly.

Maybe you should feel offended, but you don't. You know that Aldo doesn't bullshit. "I'm seventeen. I guess I don't know crap about love."

"Well, that's the trouble right there," Aldo says in a calm voice. "When you grow older, you love again, and the new love feels so different that the love before feels like make-believe. The way you love changes throughout your life. Even the way you love the same person changes."

k" wof the brYou think back to watching Holly and Jason at the greenhouse earlier that day, seeing them sitting so close, holding hands. Could she love him? Would it be any different from the way she felt about you?

"Imagine that you were never here on Earth," says Aldo. "Would these two have found each other to love if you weren't here?"

"Ouch. Thanks a lot. If I weren't here," you say with a laugh.

"You know what I mean, kid. Answer the question."

"So, okay. Maybe?"

Aldo leans back in his recliner and lets out a breath. "You can't hold on to them, Roberto."

"I'm not trying to hold on to them."

"Then why do you care? Let them do what they will."

"They're my friend and my girlfriend."

"Yes, but you are dead."

"Obviously, I know that," you say, annoyance edging your voice. "I'm floating around day after day, forced to watch them nearly hooking up, and there's nothing I can do. I get the I'm-a-ghost thing."

Aldo frowns. "Did you ever stop to think that you are the one keeping yourself here? Perhaps your attachment to them is making you stay."

"You're not telling me anything I haven't already thought of," you say.

"Roberto, you're so very angry tonight." Aldo shakes his head again.

"Yeah I'm angry. I don't need to be hanging around here! Would you want to spend your eternity watching life go on from the outside?"

Aldo's voice is hard. "No. And that's how I spend each day myself."

Silence falls between you.

After a moment you say, "I didn't mean anything by that. You're in a completely different situation."

"You go on now," Aldo says with a wave of his hand. "I don't want to talk to you anymore tonight." His bushy brows are knitted together, his mouth a thin line.

"C'mon, man, don't be like that."

"Good night, Roberto."

"I wasn't trying to be a jerk. Don't send me away," you plead.

Aldo stares at the car commercial playing on the TV. He pulls up the blanket on his legs, still ignoring you.

"Fine. Maybe you're right," you mumble. "You don't want me around a kt meighnyway. I'll get out of here. I'm not trying to hold on to any one of you."

You close your eyes, and a second later you're on McCallister Road. The wind whips through the cedar trees in the gathering darkness below you. You trace your hand along the shiny new guardrail and then hop it easily, getting some nice hang time in the air. Down through the grassy ravine, you float-trudge toward the tree with the scar.

When you stand in front of that injured giant's trunk, you reach out as if you could touch the blackened marks, the deep gouge from the car's fender, the small bald patches where glass had eaten into the bark. This was where it had ended and where it had begun.

"Take me away," you say aloud to the tree, to the universe, maybe. "I want to go."

The rain patters softly on the leaves near you. Cedar needles shower down right where you stand, passing through you, or through where you would be if you were really there. And you hug the tree as best you can, trying to feel something, anything.