I recognized a half-truth to her story. Grandma had left home right after her brother went to war. The family went to church, but Grandma, who was only eighteen at the time, had claimed she felt sick. When they returned home, she’d gone, off to lands unknown to live her dream of being a folk singer. A neighbor saw her performance poster a few years later and word got back to them, but for so many years, they didn’t know what had happened to her.
“Lothaire stole every single dance. So handsome.” Grandma often spoke of Lothaire, her delusional love and the Prince of France. She continued, “You’d be surprised how many princes aren’t handsome. When I arrived at court, I thought I’d see so many handsome princes, but ugh! Now the Prince of France and the Prince of Denmark were dashing, but the rest were hideous. The Prince of England had a wide red face, and it was always shiny. Most days he looked more like a melon than a royal. The Russian tsar had the most crooked nose that turned both to the left and the right in a zigzag. I don’t think he could breathe out of it. Imagine the snoring. The Prince of France, though, he was something special. Everyone believed he had his eye on Mary Laurel, but no—it was me! Everyone was jealous of me that night. Who wouldn’t be with that prince? He had a wave to his hair—so fashionable. So giving. So kind. You believe me, don’t you?”
I nodded to her, and she added, “He presented me a gift. Do you want to see it?”
“Yes,” I said, and she left me sitting on the ottoman.
Grandma opened the jewelry box on her dresser and plowed around for her piece. Years ago, Mom had snuck all of Grandma’s real jewelry out of the house and left behind only some cheaper odds and ends: a few pendants, a pair of knock-off earrings, a bracelet and several rings. Anything of value was safely in a bank deposit box. Over time, I had added costume pieces to her collection to sparkle things up and enhance story time. Grandma always knew better but appreciated the additions.
“It’s not here,” she said.
“No, Grandma. It’s okay.”
“Wait! I remember,” she said, and she turned and went to the closet. She fished her hand into her winter coat and took something out.
This was new. Never had Grandma gone to search for jewelry in her closet.
“Is everything okay?”
She returned to my side, broad smile across her face. She extended her hand to me and placed a wad of used tissues and syrupy cough drops in my hand.
Gross. This was the first time Grandma had ever done anything, well, so mentally unwell. Everything always had a small amount of logic. But this? It made little sense. I discreetly held my hand over the trashcan when I noticed something round and hefty in my palm.
Hesitantly, I opened the napkin. There I found a ring with a large green emerald, a perfect circular gem set in exquisite gold. The quarter-sized stone had a dull shine, and while I didn’t know much about gems, I guessed it might be a real emerald in need of cleaning. An antique. I turned it in my hand, overcome with a feeling of dread. If real, I had thousands of dollars in my hand. Even more. “Grandma. Where did you get this?”
“I told you, the Prince of France. He gave me the ring and necklace on the Rhone. I can’t find the necklace. You’ll find it and bring it back to me.”
“Grandma, what?” I had no clue what she was talking about.
“You will. The fortune teller told me all those years ago.” Grandma said with an unusual intensity. She squinted her eyes, and she had the look of a person remembering information from years past. “The fortune teller said you’d understand. She said you’d find a cure. You’d go and find the cure. Death will die again. That’s what she said. I must go behind the shadows and death would die again.”
Death will die again? A cure? “What, Grandma?”
“She said you would find a cure for me.”
“For your illness?” There couldn’t be a cure. This made no sense. “Find a cure? There’s a cure? What are you talking about?”
She gazed directly into my eyes and placed her hands on my shoulder. “Oh, when will this war be over?”
“What war, Grandma?” Of all her years of stories about Prince Lothaire and the royal kingdom, not once had she mentioned this ring, a necklace, or a cure. Heck, Grandma barely even acknowledged her illness. “Where? What am I supposed to do?”
Her eyes were clear and open. “She said you’d find the cure and I would be better. She said, ‘find the necklace, find the words’.”
“Words? What words? Like a formula for medicine or something?” I asked. This made me pause. Could this be true? At that moment, this sad, hopeful, and insane part of my brain lit up. I’d risk anything to cure Grandma. My father had warned me for years not to buy into anyone else’s crazy, but here I was in the dangerous territory of believing Grandma.
Grandma shook her head. “Find the necklace, find the words,” she repeated. She took my face in her hands, and in those eyes, I saw a person I hadn’t seen in years. “Be good, sweet child, be good. Don’t make shadows, please, please! Don’t make shadows, don’t make shadows, don’t make shadows.”
“I won’t. I promise.” My voice shook from her intensity.
She let go of my face, and like a cloud blocking the sun, her eyes clouded, and she was gone again. “What was I saying? Oh yes, oh yes, the prince danced with me all night. I’d been poor my whole life. I’d wanted to be special, and then he mentioned marriage and he was so charming, so rich, how could I resist? We’d even made plans, but when Mary Laurel fell in love with Hector, I
