From the Relief Society Magazine, 1959 –

Granny Will Be Waiting

By Betty Martin

Amy Willis poured some warm milk in the old mother cat’s bowl and stood watching the cat lap up the milk hungrily. “It is a lonesome old life isn’t it, Tessie, old girl?” Amy mused, half to herself and half to the cat.

Amy was a short, slender woman in her early sixties with shiny gray hair that waved softly back from her face emphasizing her gentle, delicate features. her kindly blue eyes and her sparkling smile were evidence of her lovely countenance. All who knew Amy loved her and sought her friendship.

Yes, it is a lonesome old life, thought Amy. Now that she was at the age in life where she should be enjoying her grandchildren, she had none. Her only son had been killed during the war, and her beloved husband, Sam Willis, had been dead for four years. She had been alone in the large old house on Oak Street since that time. Her sister Clara, who was also a widow, had wanted her to come and live with her in Elmdale, fifty miles away. But Applegate was Amy’s home town, and these were her people. She would be even more lonesome in Elmdale.

Amy and Sam had placed all their hopes in their son Tim, when they learned they would be unable to have any more children. The ache that filled Amy’s heart was consoled by Tim. They had given him every advantage that they as loving parents could, and Tim had responded in a way befitting a son who is sincerely aware of the sacrifices that his parents are making for him. She had thought that Tim would one day marry and bring his children home to visit …

Amy was jolted back to reality by the slamming of her neighbor’s door. It is that little Dougie boy again, Amy thought. Honestly, that little boy is the liveliest little fellow I have ever seen. Amy had been warned about the little five-year-old (he was commonly referred to as that wild little Jessop boy) by some of her friends. Dougie’s mother, Lillie Jessop, had been a widow for two years, and she had moved next to Amy only a week ago. Everyone sympathized with Amy, to be living so near to the Jessops.

“It isn’t that Dougie isn’t a smart little fellow,” they told her. “It is just that Lillie won’t take the time to discipline him, and he runs wild all the time.”

Amy thought they were exaggerating, but within the short week Lillie Jessop and Dougie had lived there, Dougie had ripped out her prize petunias, pulled up the onions in the garden, and ripped her newspaper to shreds two mornings in a row. Amy hadn’t said anything to Dougie’s mother, because she believed that a person should try to get along with her neighbors. However, every time Amy heard a noise, now, she jumped. She was afraid to look outside for fear that she would discover some other mischief that Dougie had been in.

The Jessops’ back door slammed shut once more, and Amy surmised that Lillie Jessop was turning Dougie loose to do as he pleased. Maybe I should go see Clara, Amy thought wearily at the anticipation of putting up with Dougie’s mischievous tricks. But then I just might not have a house left when I return.

Amy put the cat outside and then busied herself about the house. She always tried to keep active, she would not allow herself to indulge in self-pity. She had seen many fine people become enslaved to pity and lose their friends. Amy would not even allow her friends to pity her. She and her good friend, Mildred Carlyle, always spent one evening a week together. They would go out to dinner and a show, or they would have dinner at one or the other’s home and spend the evening recalling many happy memories. Amy was very thankful for these memories and for the good life that she had had.

Naturally, she could not say that she wasn’t lonely, but she felt that she must do her best to make her life rich. She did not expect to cease being lonely for her loved ones. To cease being lonely for them would be, to Amy, to forget them, and this she could never do. Her friends, her Church, and her everyday tasks, all helped to fill the gap in her life.

Amy stirred up a cake, put it in the oven to bake, and then, with renewed gusto, went about her cleaning. She had always prided herself on her ability to accomplish her household tasks in a systematic and efficient manner.

Many times when a problem was pressing her, she would find some tedious job which required considerable physical exertion and throw herself into the work with such effort that soon the problem which had been perplexing her grew fainter and fainter. Then, after finishing the work, she would find that she could think much more clearly after giving her mind a rest. She had often told her friends, after losing her husband, that there was nothing like good, hard work to help relieve the tensions that build up inside a person.

Having finished her cleaning, Amy began to ice the cake, when she heard a rap at the door. “Why, Dougie, hello there, what are you doing with the cat?”

Dougie looked up at her with twinkling blue eyes and a winning little smile that turned Amy’s heart. Her son used to look at her like that, and Dougie’s hair was blonde and curly as Tim’s had been.

“Tessie was in the road, Mrs. Willis; I thought she would get runned over,” Dougie replied as he gazed curiously into the house.

Oh, my, Amy thought, the little rascal just wants to come in and look around. But then he is just a little boy. Amy opened the door.

“Thank you so much for bringing Tessie back. I surely wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. You’re a good little boy, Dougie. I guess that I should have you tend Tessie for me, shouldn’t I?”

Dougie looked past Amy to the table where she had been icing the cake. “Mommy never bakes cakes,” Dougie said with his blue eyes twinkling again.

“Why, Dougie, would you like to clean out the frosting bowl after I finish icing the cake? Then, I’ll cut you a piece of cake, and you can have a glass of milk, okay?”

Amy recalled how Tim had always loved to climb up on the old stool and watch her ice a cake. Chocolate cake had been his favorite.

“Chocolate cake is my favorite, Mrs. Willis,” Dougie said, intruding into Amy’s thoughts, as he climbed up on the stool by the table. He chatted to Amy about his pet bird, the fact that his Daddy was never coming home any more, and many things which Amy doubted very much that Lillie Jessop would want to be known. Amy couldn’t help but smile at herself. If only adults could be as honest and outright as a little child, the world would be a much more pleasant place in which to live.

It was so pleasant to have Dougie with her that Amy dreaded to send the little boy home. She would have enjoyed having him spend the day with her so much. “Maybe you had better go home now, Dougie; your Mommy will be worried about you.” She helped the little fellow down from the stool and watched him walk assuredly to his home.

After Amy had had her lunch she decided to lie down for a few minutes, and when she awoke and went out into the living room, there lying on the couch with Tessie in his arms, both sleeping peacefully, was Dougie. He stirred slightly, opened his eyes and smiled at Amy. “I was tending Tessie for you,” he said.

Amy smiled back at Dougie and sat down on the couch beside him.

Without warning Dougie suddenly threw his arms about her, saying, “I love you, Mrs. Willis, and I want you for my Granny.”

Tears of happiness welled up in Amy’s eyes as she gently held the little boy in her arms. “Of course, I’ll be your Granny, Dougie. Now we had better take you home.”

“Okay, Granny, but I’ll come back tomorrow,” Dougie assured her as he marched triumphantly out of the house, stopping only long enough to give Tessie an affectionate pat.

Amy had never been happier, as she followed Dougie to the door. “Yes, Dougie, you come back tomorrow; Granny will be waiting.”

People passing through Applegate would consider it a typical small town, that is, if they bothered to consider it at all. To Amy Willis, however, it was her town and her people. And Dougie, she thought, had called her Granny!