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Show 10-5 "And have you given much thought to your poor grandparents, one sick and the other so sad and lonely without him? They need you too, Annie. Your friendship should never crowd out your family." "I'm sorry. I did think about Grandmother last night. And you sent me away when Grandfather got sick." "I know. Perhaps that wasn't a good idea. I just rather panicked at the time. Well, now you're here and here's what I've decided. You can spend your afternoons out at the hospital with Andrew, if you will spend the mornings with Grandmother. Read to her, talk to her, take her on walks, help her out." "Oh, Mother, she's . . ." "Old. I know. And not very cheery. I'm afraid she's rather living in the past just now. Terrified of her future, I'm afraid. But you'll do it." Mother cocked her head and looked at me. "I said I learned from you, that you're growing up. That's true. But you're still very much a little girl in some ways. Perhaps you can learn from this day too. You can't always twist things to your way. Your father can't always make things come round right, Annie. He doesn't wind up the world, wonderful as he is." I looked at her'in astonishment. How had she known? She smiled again and raised one eyebrow. "Thought you had us all figured, my girl?" Mother looked at me a long, measured moment, then patted my hand and let me go. So my summer days were cut in two, into a dark half where I crouched in the dim shadows of my grandmother's house and of her memories, and into a bright side when I ran through the hot noon sun to play and laugh and talk with Andrew. He knew what I was doing and kidded me about being a nurse to the old and the sick. "We'll get you a white veil and a red cross, sister," he told me. "You're getting to be a regular Florence N." |