Pie Town - Lynne Hinton [9]
They both smiled at the familiar lines they shared with each other.
Roger had been a steady and faithful presence in the life of his grandson even though he and Malene had been divorced years before he was born. Throughout their marriage and even after it was over, they had fought about a lot of things—about which side of the tracks to build their house, the profession he chose, how to care for their aging parents, what to do with their recalcitrant daughter—but once Alex was born and the diagnosis of spina bifida had been given, and then once Angel left, they had never fought again.
It was as if all of a sudden they both realized and accepted that their arguments were of no consequence, and the truth was, they both equally and deeply loved their grandson. Agreeing about that one true thing, their love for Alex, seemed to temper any possible reason they might ever again find to fight. Roger never even fussed very much over Malene’s pitiful attempts at growing a garden. It didn’t matter anyway, and Alex was right: they all knew Roger would once again end up watering and caring for every plant and flower she bought and stuck in a pot. Gardening had become like everything else they did together, easy and without explanation or argument.
Alex lived with Malene and she was his primary caregiver, but not a day passed without Roger stopping by to visit the little boy at home or talking to him on the phone or having lunch with him at the diner in town. Alex was the light of more than one person’s world. And between Malene and Roger, and with Oris and his neighbors, the nurses who worked with Malene and the officers who worked with Roger, the priest and people from church, Alex was parented and grandparented and loved and watched over by everybody in the little town. He was the child the entire village raised. He was the soul of Pie Town.
“Sheriff Benavidez, I didn’t know you were here.” Frieda had rounded the corner.
“Hey, Frieda.” He stood up in respect. “I just stopped by for a drink of grape soda and a wink at my grandson.”
The older woman reached up, smoothing the sides of her hair, and smiled. “Alex is late getting up today,” she commented.
Roger nodded as he sat back down. “I heard he had a rough night.”
“Those legs of his,” Frieda said with a clucking noise. “If only we could find something to stop that aching.” She mouthed words that Roger knew to be a prayer while she made the sign of the cross, finishing with her fingers touching her lips.
Alex shifted gears on his wheelchair and backed up a bit. He faced Frieda. “I’m ready to do my math now,” he announced.
She smiled. “I’ll get the computer set up,” she said. She turned to Roger. “It’s always good to see you, Sheriff.” She nodded and walked out of the room.
“Math, huh?” Roger asked when she was gone. “I thought you were a science whiz. And why are you doing schoolwork in the summer anyway?”
“I like school,” he answered. “And now I’m taking pre-algebra,” Alex added, shifting his chair again to be closer to his grandfather.
“Pre-algebra?” Roger repeated. “Are you old enough to take pre-algebra?”
“When I pass the test in a couple of weeks, I can start taking algebra in the fall,” the young boy responded with a grin.
“Well, I don’t know where you got those skills,” Roger noted. “It certainly wasn’t from our side of the family.” He placed his drink on the table in front of him, reached in his pocket, and took out the pack of gum. He sat forward, holding out the pack to Alex.
The little boy reached over, pulled out a stick, opened it, and popped it in his mouth. “Big Red,” he said, naming the gum while he chewed.
Roger nodded. “Best chewing gum in the world.”
Alex grinned.
“By the way, I saw your great-grandfather this morning. He’s making buttermilk cornbread and cowboy beans for your birthday party.” Roger took a stick from the pack and added it to the one he was already chewing, placing the pack back in his pocket.
Alex nodded. “It’s a Pie Town tradition,” he said. “Goes with the green chile stew Ms. Bea always makes.” He chewed