Read Online Turn My World Upside Down: Jo's Story by Maureen Child - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maureen Child
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should be here. With his
son
.”
Jo blew out a breath and wished to hell Lucas had stuck around for a while. But she couldn’t really blame her brother-in-law for heading for the high country. He’d had Nana all to himself for the ride in from the airport, and she knew from past experience, it couldn’t have been a pleasant journey.
Nana had never learned how to drive, but that didn’t stop her from telling everyone else how to. In a mixtureof Italian and English, she cursed the other drivers and shouted instructions to her own. Not to mention the fact that she had an opinion on everything and felt that, at eighty-six, she had the right to tell everyone exactly what she was thinking.
Whether they wanted to hear it or not.
As kids, Jo and her sisters had been crazy about Nana. She baked cookies and always had ice cream in her freezer. Whenever they went to Omaha to visit, it was an adventure. Nana’s friends indulged them and Nana herself made every visit special. She had a way with kids. It was adults she wasn’t very fond of.
But Jo knew that Jack’s very existence had to be a sore point for the old woman. Her daughter, Jo’s mom, had been dying of a cancer that had swept her away on a tidal wave of pain and misery when her husband had made his only marital slip.
Lonely and afraid, Papa had looked for comfort somewhere else and Jack was the result. It had taken Jo a long time to get past her own anger and, if truth be told, she still wasn’t past the sting of disappointment in her father. But none of that was Jack’s fault. He was a Marconi.
And Marconis stuck together.
Against all comers.
Which was why she had to have this little talk with Nana before heading off to the Santiago job.
“A cruise,” Nana said with a sniff. “He lives inna sin. He will pay,” she said, pointing an index finger at the ceiling as if signaling to God it was time He took control of this situation.
Jo winced. She really didn’t want to think about her father “living in sin” with Grace Van Horn. There werejust some things daughters shouldn’t know about their fathers.
“Nana,” Jo said, leaning forward and bracing her elbows on her knees. “You know I love you . . .”
The old woman smiled, her papery skin crinkling at the corners of her dark brown eyes. “You’re a gooda girl, Josefina. Not like your papa. Like your mama. A saint, my Sylvia, God rest her soul.”
She crossed herself automatically, whispering a little prayer for her late daughter.
Jo nodded, thinking it was probably best to just go with the flow. No point in antagonizing her by trying to defend Papa. Especially, she reasoned, since she still wasn’t feeling all that happy with him herself.
“About Jack . . .”
“My grandson.” Nana’s narrow chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. “Where issa he?”
“School.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “Good. I will have cookies for him when he comes home.” She snapped a look at Jo. “What time he gets home?”
“He’s out at three, but he usually goes to Sam’s house. Plays with Emma until I’m off work.”
“No more,” Nana decreed, pushing herself up from the chair and reaching back to replump the pillow. Then she bent, straightened a stack of magazines on the coffee table, and dragged her index finger across the dusty surface. Frowning, she held the evidence of laziness up for Jo to see.
She winced guiltily, but hey, there hadn’t been a lot of time for dusting. Since moving back into the Marconi family home to take care of Jack, she’d been a little busy. You know, running the business single-handedly,looking after her brother . . . No excuse would be good enough and she knew it.
Nana clucked her tongue, shook her head, then brushed her hands together, ridding herself of the dust while simultaneously glaring at Jo. “They should come here. Be with their Nana.”
Sunlight speared through the living room window, highlighting the streaks on the glass. Nana was sure to notice that,
son
.”
Jo blew out a breath and wished to hell Lucas had stuck around for a while. But she couldn’t really blame her brother-in-law for heading for the high country. He’d had Nana all to himself for the ride in from the airport, and she knew from past experience, it couldn’t have been a pleasant journey.
Nana had never learned how to drive, but that didn’t stop her from telling everyone else how to. In a mixtureof Italian and English, she cursed the other drivers and shouted instructions to her own. Not to mention the fact that she had an opinion on everything and felt that, at eighty-six, she had the right to tell everyone exactly what she was thinking.
Whether they wanted to hear it or not.
As kids, Jo and her sisters had been crazy about Nana. She baked cookies and always had ice cream in her freezer. Whenever they went to Omaha to visit, it was an adventure. Nana’s friends indulged them and Nana herself made every visit special. She had a way with kids. It was adults she wasn’t very fond of.
But Jo knew that Jack’s very existence had to be a sore point for the old woman. Her daughter, Jo’s mom, had been dying of a cancer that had swept her away on a tidal wave of pain and misery when her husband had made his only marital slip.
Lonely and afraid, Papa had looked for comfort somewhere else and Jack was the result. It had taken Jo a long time to get past her own anger and, if truth be told, she still wasn’t past the sting of disappointment in her father. But none of that was Jack’s fault. He was a Marconi.
And Marconis stuck together.
Against all comers.
Which was why she had to have this little talk with Nana before heading off to the Santiago job.
“A cruise,” Nana said with a sniff. “He lives inna sin. He will pay,” she said, pointing an index finger at the ceiling as if signaling to God it was time He took control of this situation.
Jo winced. She really didn’t want to think about her father “living in sin” with Grace Van Horn. There werejust some things daughters shouldn’t know about their fathers.
“Nana,” Jo said, leaning forward and bracing her elbows on her knees. “You know I love you . . .”
The old woman smiled, her papery skin crinkling at the corners of her dark brown eyes. “You’re a gooda girl, Josefina. Not like your papa. Like your mama. A saint, my Sylvia, God rest her soul.”
She crossed herself automatically, whispering a little prayer for her late daughter.
Jo nodded, thinking it was probably best to just go with the flow. No point in antagonizing her by trying to defend Papa. Especially, she reasoned, since she still wasn’t feeling all that happy with him herself.
“About Jack . . .”
“My grandson.” Nana’s narrow chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. “Where issa he?”
“School.”
“Ah.” She nodded. “Good. I will have cookies for him when he comes home.” She snapped a look at Jo. “What time he gets home?”
“He’s out at three, but he usually goes to Sam’s house. Plays with Emma until I’m off work.”
“No more,” Nana decreed, pushing herself up from the chair and reaching back to replump the pillow. Then she bent, straightened a stack of magazines on the coffee table, and dragged her index finger across the dusty surface. Frowning, she held the evidence of laziness up for Jo to see.
She winced guiltily, but hey, there hadn’t been a lot of time for dusting. Since moving back into the Marconi family home to take care of Jack, she’d been a little busy. You know, running the business single-handedly,looking after her brother . . . No excuse would be good enough and she knew it.
Nana clucked her tongue, shook her head, then brushed her hands together, ridding herself of the dust while simultaneously glaring at Jo. “They should come here. Be with their Nana.”
Sunlight speared through the living room window, highlighting the streaks on the glass. Nana was sure to notice that,
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