Crossing Oceans Read Online Free

give your grandpa some room.”
    She responded by sending me the evil eye. I pushed myself up from the table, but Mama Peg grabbed my arm. “She’s not bothering him. Is she, Jack?”
    My father stared at her, lips pressed tight. “No, she’s fine.”
    Isabella smirked a so there . The dim light from the pewter chandelier cast an odd shadow over her features, making her look like a different child.
    With my fork, I arranged the peas on my plate into a frown.
    The clatter of silverware and an occasional cough from Mama Peg were the only sounds as we ate. Craig snuck curious glances at Isabella while I snuck glances at him. A shroud of gloomy silence continued to hang over the room until I couldn’t stand it a second longer. I pushed my uneaten dinner to the side.
    “So, Craig, what have you been up to?”
    With a heap of mashed potatoes halfway to his mouth, he paused, meeting my gaze. He set the spoon down on his plate. “Been great. I’ve got my own business now. Landscaping.”
    “Like mowing lawns and that sort of thing?”
    He furrowed his brow. “Um, no, I have guys who do that. I’m more of an artist.”
    “Like sculpting bushes into shapes of animals? I love . . .”
    Mama Peg and my father exchanged glances. Craig looked at me as though trying to gauge whether I was joking or just plain stupid. His tone and the fresh splotches of red on his neck told me I’d missed the mark. “Not quite. I’m a landscape designer.”
    The fact that I had offended him offended me, but for the sake of peace, I apologized.
    The room fell silent again until Isabella asked to be excused. She’d eaten most of her dinner, leaving only an untouched roll and some scattered peas.
    Her child-size suitcase leaned against the maple hutch. She grabbed it by the handle and dragged it across the rug, upside down, its small black wheels pointing uselessly toward the ceiling. I opened my mouth to correct her but changed my mind.
    The sound of her unloading toys took the edge off the silence. Mama Peg reached for the glass pitcher of tea and Craig cleared his throat in disapproval. They locked eyes. She huffed and set the pitcher back down. Tea splashed around in it, a trickle escaping down the side.
    I grabbed the pitcher and poured her another glass, glaring at Craig as I set it in front of her. If my grandmother wanted another drink, what was it to him?
    Mama Peg reached for the glass and brought it slowly to her lips. Her hand quivered as she tilted the glass to drink.
    Craig crossed his arms and stared hard at her. “Enjoy your last glass of the real stuff, Peggy. From now on it’s decaf.”
    When did he become my grandmother’s keeper? I slapped down my linen napkin. “She’s a grown woman. If she wants to drink the whole pitcher, what’s it—”
    “Jenny,” Mama Peg began.
    “Jenny, nothing. Who does he think he is?”
    She set the glass down, looking guilty. “He’s just doing what I asked him to.”
    Anger melted into confusion. “What?”
    “My doctor said one glass a day because of my palpitations.”
    I turned to Craig. “Palpitations?”
    “Your grandmother’s medications make her jittery, and when she has too much caffeine, it makes her heart race. The doctor said, unless she wants to end up with a pacemaker, one glass a day. She asked me to keep her accountable.”
    My stomach got that queasy elevator feeling as I realized I was being the biggest jerk in the world.
    My throat constricted and everything I’d been through in the past six years suddenly weighed on me until I could barely breathe. Traitorous tears blurred my vision. When I opened my mouth, intending to blame my volatile emotions on exhaustion, pathetic sobs busted out instead of words.
    Mortified, I rushed from the room.
    Unsure whether to retreat or return, I leaned my back against the kitchen wall. Crying at my circumstances. Laughing at myself. Wondering if the mind really was the first thing to go.
    After a few minutes, Craig came to my