Buried In Buttercream

stay home from Disneyland today because of no long lines or kids bellyachin’. You’d live every day of your life in Disneyland and be buried there if you could think of a way to pull it off.”
    Granny smiled back, but said nothing.
    “You stayed behind because you were afraid I’d get all down in the dumps over all that’s happened if you left me alone. Let’s face it, you’re here to babysit me.”
    “Am not.”
    “Are, too. And don’t lie. What’s that you used to always tell me? ‘The good Lord’s watchin’, and if He hears you tell a lie, your tongue’ll turn black and fall right outta your head.’”
    Granny sighed. “Yeah, I shouldn’t have told you kids that. It ain’t true. I know a whole bunch of sorry jackasses who’ve lied like rugs their whole lives, and they’ve still got their tongues ... unfortunately.”
    “I didn’t believe it past the age of five. That’s when I stopped checking it in the bathroom mirror after I told a whopper. So, I don’t reckon it scarred me for life.”
    She felt her breath catch in her throat as soon as she said the words, “scarred for life.” Funny, how a simple phrase that you’d used since you were a child could suddenly take on new meaning.
    Glancing over at Granny, she could see that Gran had caught it, too. Those eyes, as startlingly blue as her own, were searching her face with an intensity that made Savannah most uncomfortable.
    It was hard to hide things from Dirk.
    It was impossible to hide them from Granny Reid.
    There was a long silence, then Gran said softly, “Life’s hard. Everybody picks up scars along the way, Savannah girl. Some on the inside. Some on the outside.”
    Savannah put her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “These aren’t like the one on my finger that I got opening that can of beans, Gran.”
    “I know.”
    “Or the one on my foot where Cleo scratched me when Di bit her on the butt.”
    “I know. And it ain’t like the scar I got when they took out my gall bladder. Those were all got innocent-like. Not the way you got yours ... through evil means.”
    “Exactly. That makes it harder.”
    “I’m sure it does, sweetie pie. I’m sure it does.”
    Savannah felt another, even deeper wash of fatigue sweep through her, robbing her of even the small amount of energy she’d had. The very thought of that guy seemed to drain the very life out of her.
    “Are you gonna be all right, Granddaughter?” Gran asked with a tremble in her voice that Savannah hadn’t heard in years.
    A false, cheery, reassuring lie sprang to Savannah’s lips, but she swallowed it and spoke the awful truth instead.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Well ... that’s gotta be a powerful burden to carry.”
    “It is.”
    Granny thought awhile, then asked, “What do you reckon it’d take for you to get better?”
    “I don’t know. Time, I guess.”
    “I don’t put a lot of stock in time’s healing properties. I’ve seen too many people spend too many years trying to get over bad injuries. Seems like a lot of those wounds fester instead of heal.”
    “That’s what it feels like,” Savannah admitted. “It feels like the hurt is going deeper and deeper. I find that, instead of getting past it, I hate him more every day.”
    “I can sure understand that. I ain’t none too fond of him myself. I’ve had more than a few daydreams of how I’d do away with him ... if he wasn’t already done away with, that is.”
    Granny cleared her throat and took her time choosing her next words. “But one of these days, when you’re ready, you’re gonna have to start giving some thought to forgiving that lowdown skunk.”
    The very thought made Savannah feel nauseous. “How? Granny, how on earth does a body forgive someone for something like that? How am I supposed to love someone who tried to kill me? To understand what he did and say it was all right? I can’t do that.”
    “You don’t have to do that, darlin’. That ain’t what forgiveness is all about. I mean, sometimes it is, when somebody who loves you accidentally hurts you. Then you can say to yourself and to them, ‘I know you didn’t mean to do it, and all’s forgiven.’ But this is different.”
    “You’re darned tootin’ it’s different! He knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to kill me, and I could see in his eyes when he was doing it that some part of him was enjoying it. I can’t pretend to believe that he didn’t understand what he was doing.”
    Granny