Grandma Robot (7 page)

She stared at the young woman's
face. A chill went through her. If she didn't know any better,
she'd think that was Henie when she was young. Now wasn't that the
craziest thought in the whole wide world? Henie had never been
alive. She was a robot. She was ageless, sealed within that metal
body of hers.

Karen recalled what Henie just
said. She was tired. How could a robot feel tired? Oh, my! Her
battery must need charged. She said she could do it herself, but
Karen hadn't seen her do it. Or, was that teenage Henie that was so
sure she could charge herself?

Karen put the picture back together
and placed it in the trunk before she raced down the steps to
Henie’s room.

Henie wasn't on the bed or in the
rocker by the window. She turned to leave and did a double take.
Henie was stretched out in the wicker basket. Her eyes were closed,
and her hands were folded over her chest.

Flashbacks of deceased people at
visitations posed just like Henie. Karen felt there was too many
things too unreal since the robot moved in. Weird enough that Karen
didn't know a single person she could talk to about this that
wouldn't call her crazy.

Karen walked to the basket. “Henie,
can you hear me?”

Henie's dull eyes opened wide.
“Yes, of course I can hear you. I have excellent
hearing.”

Karen stood over her. “What are you
doing in this basket?”

“I sleep in it sometimes,” Henie
said.

“Why? If robots sleep, there is a
comfortable bed in the room to lay down on,” Karen
declared.

“Of course, there is, dear. I just
got used to using this basket I guess, and it feels natural to me
now,” Henie said, sounding confused.

“I'm pretty sure this basket
wasn't in this bedroom when I bought the house. Where did it come
from?” Karen asked.

“The attic. I slid it down the
stairs to here so I could use it.”

Karen asked, “What was it doing in
the attic?”

“Well, that is something I'm not
supposed to know. I guess the family that lived here had a use for
it once in awhile so they just kept it handy,” Henie said, her
voice fading as she lost energy.

“Have you charged your battery
lately?” Karen asked.

Henie paused. “You know I've been
so busy I forget if I recharged or not.”

“Where is the attachment that
plugs in to you?” Karen asked.

“In the satchel in the bottom of
the closet,” Henie said and closed her eyes.

“Hey, don't space out on me yet.
Where do I plug it in on you?” Karen asked urgently.

“On my left side under my arm is a
plug in,” Henie said, her voice growing weaker.

Karen rushed to the closet, dug
under the clothes and tennis shoes in the satchel to find the cord.
She plugged one end into the outlet. After she rolled up Henie's
dress sleeve she plugged in the other end.

By that time, Henie looked so out
of it Karen wondered if she might be fixing her own
supper.

The phone broke the silence about
mid morning the next day. Karen answered. “Oh, hi, Mom.”

“How's it going in the house by
yourself? Do you want me to come out and help you tidy
up?”

“No, thanks, Mom. I've been doing
that believe it or not. While I've got you on the line, Mom. I'm
curious about something. Did we ever have a woman named Henie in
our family?”

“That would be my grandmother and
your great grandma. Her and her husband was the first ones to live
in your house. They built the house when they homestead the land.
Actually, her name was Henrietta. Why?”

“Oh, I found a picture in the
attic from a long time ago and wondered who the couple was. That's
all. Did you ever see a long wicker basket in the house? Maybe the
attic?” Karen asked.

“Sure I did. My goodness is that
creepy thing still in the house. That's the death basket. Years
ago, my grandparents used it for visitations in the living room
when someone in the family died. The attic is where they kept it
all right,” Helen remembered.

“I see,” Karen said.

“Is everything all right out
there? Why so many questions?”

Mom's radar is
working well today
. “Just curious about
all the old things in the attic. Did you know the whole top floor
of this house is full of junk? It would take forever to clean that
stuff out and haul it off,” Karen groused.

“I'm sorry, but I didn't know. I
didn't ever have a reason to go up there. After your grandparents
died, your father and I didn't go check on the house much. Even
then we just checked to make sure the windows and doors were
locked. There's always a chance of a break in when a house is
empty.

Maybe you can find a few antiques
worth something so don't throw away anything without getting it
appraised first,” Helen cautioned.

Karen changed the subject. “Okay.
Mom, do you remember if at one time there was more outbuildings
besides the barn?”

Her mother paused to think. “Yes,
there were two small buildings. One was a chicken house and the
other a hog house I believe. The buildings finally collapsed. My
father burnt them. The buildings dated back to the beginning of the
farm. Why?”

“Oh, I drive by farms with so many
outbuildings and wondered if there hadn't been more here,” Karen
excused. “Was there ever a pond in the pasture?”

“Yes, years ago. It dried up when
we had a drought for a couple years and didn't fill back up when
the rains came. If you walk out north of the barn, you might be
able to see where the pond was. I believe a portion of the dam is
still there.”

“Thanks, Mom. That's all
interesting,” Karen told her. “One more thing. Did your
grandparents work the farm with horses?”

“Sure they did. That was before
tractors were invented,” Helen said.

“Do you remember what the horses
looked like?”

“Goodness, girl, you ask the
oddest questions. Best I remember Grandpa had two draft work
horses. Big blond ones with white feet. He had a pair of dappled
gray horses he used to pull the carriage.

After they got a car, he still took
the grandkids for rides in that carriage. We always thought it was
fun, but it had been a way of life for Grandpa Clell. One he hated
to give up. He loved his horses,” Helen said in a far away voice.
“Such good times.”

When the house seemed too quiet
that afternoon, Karen couldn't concentrate for wondering what Henie
might be doing. She should check on the robot to make sure she
hadn't slipped outside to visit the cat again. Not that she minded
Henie going to see the cat, she just worried that the robot might
fall and break something. The rough terrain wasn't as easy walking
as on smooth floors.

When she found the living room was
empty, Karen rested her hand on the stair railing. She heard the
faint sound of Henie's voice in her bedroom. Karen slipped up the
stairs as easy as she could. One of the steps squeaked, and she
hadn't paid enough attention to remember which one.

Henie was in her rocker by the
window. Her SAS shoes were spread apart to make more lap. Resting
on her apron was the picture from the attic.

Henie picked the picture and spoke
to it. “Clell, it's nice enough here yet, but this house just isn't
the same without you in it.” After a pause, she said, “What do you
mean I should be used to the way things are after all this time? I
really don't want to get used to you not being here with me, but it
does help that I can talk to you when I want to. Don't ever go
completely away. I always want to be able to hear your voice. That
always makes me feel better.”

Karen couldn't figure out why Henie
was talking to a picture like she knew the man in it. Odder yet was
the fact that Henie seemed to hear the man in the picture talking
back to her. It was another mystery. Could an elderly robot become
senile?

Henie laid the picture on her lap.
One hand rested on her knee. With the other she fished a flowered
hanky out of her apron pocket and wiped her nose. She laid her head
against the rocker. Her focus was out the window now, but her mind
seemed to be a long ways off.

Eerily, the cemetery popped into
Karen's mind. She knocked on the door lightly. When Henie twisted
to look at her Karen saw moisture on Henie's cheeks. She'd been
crying. “Sorry to bother you, Henie. I just wondered if you've
plugged yourself in lately to charge your battery?”

Henie looked at her blankly and
sniffled. “I forget if I have or not.”

“Just to be on the safe side, we
better charge the battery as long as you're sitting down.” Karen
grabbed the coiled up cord off the dresser and inserted it under
Henie’s arm. She glanced out the window, wondering if Henie's view
of the cemetery was what made the robot sad.

Other than the cemetery, there
wasn't much to see but fields and pasture. Karen wanted quiet. In
this place, she had that. Watching Henie, she realized the robot
looked out that window and saw a different scene. One that made her
nostalgic and brought her to tears.

“Karen, do you know anything about
your family tree?” Henie asked out of the blue.

That question
surprised Karen.
Was Henie's hearing so
exceptional she overheard the phone conversation between me and Mom
from up here?
“No. I really
don't.”

“Everyone should know their family
history. It’s important information. The problem is, no one thinks
to ask until the old folks are dead. Then it's too late,” Henie
said, putting her finger on the window pane as if she was trying to
touch the white fluffy cloud drifting by.

“Sit still,” Karen told her. “I'll
come back and check on you. Just relax and get your energy
back.”

Before she left, Karen took another
look out the window. That old cemetery behind the field was always
part of Henie's window scene. That place must be connected to her
sadness for some reason.

Chapter 8

While Henie was recharging her
battery, Karen got in the car and drove down the gravel road to the
end of the bean field adjoining the pasture. She wanted a better
look at the cemetery. Maybe she would find out some answers. What
kind she didn't know.

A rough, rutted lane ran along the
field fence. The farmer drove a tractor and machinery to his fields
when the lane was muddy. Karen had a tight grip on the steering
wheel, driving in ruts that were rough and bouncy.

The lane ended at the cemetery with
a row of evergreens on the north border. The entry had a wrought
iron arch over the metal gate. The arch's attached letters and
numbers spelled Crane Cemetery and established in 1859. So this
cemetery was the Crane family burial place.

Karen got out and walked in the
calf high grass between the tilted limestones. The words on most of
the oldest ones were barely readable. Near the back corner, she
found the two stones she was searching for. She pulled the tall
dead grass away to read Henrietta Crane and the other stone read
Clell Crane. Henrietta died in 1959 at 80 years old. Clell had died
ten years previous at 70 years old.

The next stone in line was a shiny,
black, double one with the names Mary and Samuel Crane. The dates
were more recent. Karen just barely remembered that set of
grandparents, her mother's parents, living on the farm.

Karen needed to talk to her mother
again. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and poked the
numbers. “Mom, I’m working on a family tree. What was your mother
and father’s name?”

“Mary and Samuel
Crane.”

Karen asked, “Where did they
live?”

“They moved to Crayville when they
retired from the farm. If you want to get dates, go just north of
the farm to the family cemetery. The lane is in between two
fields.”

“I'm standing in the cemetery
right now. I could see it from upstairs. Who all owned the
land?”

“My father’s parents, Henrietta
and Clell Crane, at first. They built that big farm house. I loved
going out in the summer to visit them when I was a kid. He died a
few years before Grandma did, and my parents moved on the farm
after that to take care of Grandma until she died. You have bought
yourself a century farm house since you're a
descendant.”

Karen's mind swirled with all sorts
of ridiculous ideas. How creepy was this situation with Henie
getting? She talked to Clell Crane in that picture as if he was her
husband. She said she liked sleeping in the death basket since she
was used to it. Had some apparitional part of Henie been stored in
the attic since 1959?

After supper, Karen went back to
work, but all she could think about was Henie in a conversation
with a picture. She shut the computer off, unable to concentrate.
As the monitor went black, she scolded herself she was never going
to get her book finished if she kept this up.

She found Henie in the living room.
She was sitting in the ugly green chair that went with the couch.
Her chin rested on her chest just like any other old person in the
middle of an after supper nap.