Grandpère Read Online Free PDF

they needed a new truck to haul it.” She laughs gaily. “I can’t ever keep up with all the things they’re doing. This fall they’re going to Italy and France. And all three of his girls are in university.”
    “What are they taking?” I ask.
    “Environmental science, the older two, and little Isobel is taking general studies till she can find her direction.” She prattles on about John’s house and the last time she visited, what the furniture was like and what art they had. Only just aware of her story, I’m saying, “Really?” and “How nice!” in the appropriate places. I’m still thinking about Carrie and her stroke.
    Can a person really have a stroke on demand? Who would deliberately want to become dependant? I force my attention back to Bella and realize she’s giving me a look that makes me think maybe I missed a response cue. Grandpère is grinning from his side of the table. I smile sweetly at both of them and ask if they would like to come out to the garden with me. I am older than Bella, but she takes as long to move about as Grandpère does.
    I take pity on them and bring the four-wheeler over. They sit beside each other, perched on the carrier behind me. They hold on to my sweater, and Bella squeals while Grandpère assures her of my careful driving. On the way out we talk about the bear that’s been hanging around. I tell them if the bear charges, I’m the only safe one, because all I have to do is shut off the bike. I won’t even have to run, because I can walk faster than either of them can run. You don’t need to outrun a bear; you just need to outrun the slowest person there.
    We pick a plastic tub full of vegetables for Bella to take, and new potatoes, onion and dill to make soup for dinner. Grandpère and Bella sit at the table and gossip about our neighbours. I cook, chop up the potato and onion, throw in the aromatic dill and a little salt and put them on to boil. No need to peel these fresh potatoes.
    “Did you hear that Dixon boy is going to jail?” she asks him.
    “Yes, poor kid, both of those other kids riding with him died.”
    “Well, it serves him right.” Bella knows all the boys’ parents. “I hope he gets a long time. You know, they get out after just a couple of months, and it’s not even like jail, it’s like a hotel with TV and telephone and everything.”
    What Bella knows about jail is probably what she learned from the TV. She seems to know all the characters in all the shows, and any lull in the conversation she fills with her accounts of reality shows: who’s likely to win and how each show is progressing.
    Finally she has to leave for a doctor’s appointment, and even knowing better than to ask about any of her illnesses, I still inquire, “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. I’m going for a checkup. My blood pressure is high, and we like to keep an eye on my cholesterol,” she says.
    Pretty soon we’re waving, and Bella’s on her way, probably planning to visit someone else after the doctor to tell what she learned here, which wasn’t much. If she has nothing interesting to relate, she may just make something up. An uncharitable thought. I chastise myself.
    Grandpère says to me, “Your friend, she is going to the doctor when nothing is wrong with her but that she is fat and lazy and has nothing to do. If she had something to do, she would be a lot healthier.”
    Bella is my friend by reason of long acquaintance, not because we are soul sisters, and I feel no need to defend her, so I merely agree with him. Bella has put on weight like armour, ill health has plagued her all her adult life and while I have some sympathy for her, I can also see that many of her problems are largely self-inflicted.
    “I don’t like to see doctors at all,” he tells me, as though I don’t already know. Grandpère and I are both healthy; we eat well and stay active. We joke to each other that we’re only ever going to see the doctor by accident.
    He still isn’t