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Show 94 quiet* Gram must be at the store. Or next door. Sure, that's why the old mums were at the window . . . Dyna grabbed her coat on the way out, letting the door slam shut. She'd make a big production out of telling it, how she'd hob-nobbed with the VIP'8 all morning. Aunt Grace would say again, like she always did, "Dyna, you're the best medicine in the world for the likes of us!" The faces that met Dyna at her neighbors' door were grim. Miss Mary's brow was puckered with worry knots that said what she couldn't. "Isn't Gram here?" Dyna stopped short at the threshold, sensing that something was wrong. Aunt Grace guided her into the room and closed the door again. Her hands moved nervously over her apron as she groped for the right words. "Your grandmother . . . Lillian . . . she's been taken to the hospital." "She'll be all right," Miss Mary whispered in piping syllables, signing that she and Grace had been praying all day. "What's wrong? What happened?" "Oscar says she broke her hip. He's there with her now. She slipped on the walk, coming home with the groceries." Dyna sat down on the sofa where Miss Mary led her, trying to control the churning inside. Two times Gram had asked her to shovel the walk that morning. Twice she'd forgotten! Getting to school had been so all-fire important! "It's my fault," she said, her mouth turning down as she began to picture the accident. "No, Dyna," Miss Mary was beside her, patting and comforting. Dyna covered her face with her hands. "It is. It's all my stupid fault!" Then Mary had Dyna in her arms, stroking her hair, rocking her. "You stay here with us," she whispered. "We'll take care of you. Lillian's going to be just fine, you'll see." |