“Hey,” he said. It was one word, but his eyes said so much more. He hadn’t shaved, the gold scruff on his face was longer than she’d ever seen it, and he looked tired, dark circles showing under his eyes, but he was smiling despite it all.
“Hi.”
“I told Pop you were coming.” He gestured for her to enter and shut the door behind them. “He’s in the living room.”
Libby walked in to find Pop sitting in the recliner, an afghan over his legs, the cast on his foot poking out the end. “Libby!” he said with a smile that warmed her heart. “I’d get up…”
“I know. I heard,” she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine, really. I can still walk; I just have to use that boot,” he pointed to a thick, black wedge with large straps sitting next to the chair. “Pete, my boy, can you get me some supper, please? I’m starving, and you’ll have plenty of time with Libby after I fall asleep,” he winked at her. She wanted to smile at that comment, but it sent a pinch through her chest. She’d come strictly for Pop. She couldn’t dwell on the sadness of her situation with Pete because she had to be strong for Pop.
After Pete had gone into the kitchen, he called out, “You hungry, Libby?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” she said. She didn’t care if she was hungry, and, truthfully, she hadn’t noticed. She just wanted to see Pop and try not to think about anything else. She sat down on the floor next to him and rested her chin on her hands as she leaned on his footrest.
“So!” she said. “How are you really? How do you feel?”
“Honestly? This whole mess with my head isn’t what’s been bothering me. It’s Anne. I want to be with Anne, if you really want to know.”
Libby nodded, unable to say anything. The lump in her throat wouldn’t let her.
“We had a good life here. We were happy. But now she’s moved on to another life, and I’m left here to drive everyone crazy. I want to be with her.”
He was talkative today, which was good, because Libby could hardly swallow, she was so upset. If she tried to get the words out, she’d start weeping uncontrollably. She missed Nana too, and while she wished for Pop to get what he wanted, she knew what that meant. She’d lose him.
Pop shifted in the chair and tilted his head back against it as if the weight were too much. He turned and looked at Libby, a smile on his face. “I’m fine. My leg’s been bothering me a little, but otherwise I feel okay. This disease is tough emotionally, that’s all.” He pulled his head back up. “How about you? How are you?”
Libby was having a hard time emotionally too, but she didn’t want to bother Pop with all of it. “I’m doing okay,” she said.
“I’m glad you came back. I think Pete needs you.” He paused, and Libby had nothing to fill the silence. She wasn’t sure what to say because she knew it wasn’t true. Pete didn’t need her. He’d made it clear. He was doing just fine without her.
“Can I tell you a story?” Pop asked.
This should be interesting, she thought, and nodded.
“Anne had a choice once. A man, who’d lived here and who’d grown up with us, tried to seduce Anne after we were married.”
Libby couldn’t move. She was frozen, hanging on his every word. She knew exactly who that man was. She still had his letter. What surprised her most was that Pop already knew about him.
“His name was Mitchell Dawson. He was very career focused, so worried about moving up he left town at the first opportunity. After high school, he went off to some big college and landed a job in Chicago, I believe. He worked for a large newspaper up there. He’d always had his eye on Anne. I knew him well.” Pop pulled the afghan up around his middle, tucking it down the sides of his legs.
“When he got to Chicago,” Pop continued, “he was miserable. He missed Anne in particular, I suppose.”
He shifted awkwardly in his seat, and Libby sat up, ready to help if he needed it. It was so good to see him the way she knew him and not in the state Pete had described. It was as if she were meant to come back at that very moment to help Pete and to hear his story, almost as if Anne had a hand in it in some way. “So, what happened?”
“He gave her a letter, telling her that he’d buy her a train ticket and she could run away with him. He was a good man, Libby, apart from his proposal. She could easily have gone.”
Pete popped his head in the door. “Iced tea, Pop? Or water?”
“Water, please. I’d like to be able to sleep tonight, and the caffeine keeps me up.”