“Oh! Oh no, there it goes!”
Vivian looked over automatically and saw a mobility walker—one of the larger ones that included a seat—rolling down the slight incline of the pavement in the parking lot.
It was coming in her direction, so Vivian did what any decent person would. She stepped over and grabbed it before it kept going. Then she pushed it back toward a minivan parked in a handicapped spot.
“Hey, is this yours?” she called, moving toward the passenger side of the van since no one was visible on the driver’s side. “It was trying to make a getaway.”
“Yes, thank—” The male voice stopped abruptly when Vivian got in sight of that side of the van.
Vivian froze, both hands still on the walker handles.
Rick. It was Rick standing next to the open passenger door. Beside him, propped on the seat for support, was an older woman.
She was evidently the owner of the walker because she gave Vivian a wide smile. “Thank you so much for rescuing it. I know better than to let it go in this parking lot, but I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No problem. I’m glad I was in the right place at the right time.” Vivian had reached the door, and she pushed the walker toward Rick, who moved it into position for the older woman. She gave him a little smile, feeling weirdly self-conscious for no good reason. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said, looking slightly awkward too. But he continued easily enough, “This is my mother. Mom, this is Vivian, a friend of mine.”
His mother wasn’t as old as Vivian had initially assumed. She appeared to be in her sixties. She had silvering hair and a full, attractive face with the same deep brown eyes as her son. “Hello, Vivian. It’s very nice to meet you. I’ve got a bad knee and can’t drive right now, so Rick takes me here every evening so I can feed the ducks.”
Vivian’s eyes widened. He took his mom to feed the ducks every single evening? He’d mentioned his mother occasionally. His father died a couple of years after he’d moved back to town, and she was the only family he had left in the area. But he’d never told her about this daily habit. “Oh, that’s so nice,” she managed to say so it would appear she was participating in the conversation.
“It really is. His dad and I used to go every evening after supper, and I kept it up after he died. Rick’s been taking me ever since my knee started acting up.”
Vivian shot a quick glance at Rick. His eyes were on his mom. She couldn’t read his expression. “I’m sorry about your knee, Mrs. Grant,” she said, looking back at his mother. “Is it really bad?”
“Yes. It’s terrible. But it’s my own fault. Rick kept telling me to go ahead and have surgery to get a new one, but I put it off and put it off and now I can barely walk.” She sighed and smiled, so completely genuine that Vivian immediately loved the woman. “I’ve got surgery scheduled for next month.”
“Thank goodness. I’m sure it will be a relief to get it done.”
“That’s for sure.” The older woman straightened up with effort, using the walker for support. Rick had a plastic bag in his hand, filled with whatever his mom was going to feed the ducks, and he moved into position beside her.
Vivian was about to say goodbye, not wanting to interrupt their little ritual, but Mrs. Grant diverted her by asking, “So how do you know Rick? He never talks to me about his friends or his social life. For all I know he’s a hermit.”
“Mom,” Rick muttered dryly.
Vivian laughed. “He’s not exactly a hermit. He often sits in a coffee shop downtown to write, and my friends and I hang out there a lot. So that’s how I got to know him a bit.” She made sure to make it sound casual so his mother wouldn’t get any ideas.
“Oh, yes. He talks about that coffee shop a lot. I wondered why it was special.”
“Mom,” Rick said again, this time a low warning in the one word.
His mother just giggled.
Vivian was fascinated by this side of Rick—one she’d never seen before. She’d intended to ask him if he’d thought of any friends to set her up with the next time she saw him, but that would be completely inappropriate at the moment. In fact, the topic barely crossed her mind. “It is a really great place. We’re lucky to have it in town.”
“So are you here for the university?” Mrs. Grant was moving slowly, and Vivian and Rick were walking at her pace, one on either side of her.
“Well, I actually grew up in town. My mom is a math professor, and my dad works in the grounds department on campus. I went to UVA for undergrad, but I came back here for graduate school. I’m getting a PhD in Appalachian Studies, and we have one of the best departments in the country here.”
“I bet your parents are thrilled that you’re back. I know I was when Rick moved back.”
“Yes, they’re happy to have me close, at least for now.”
“So how did you get interested in Appalachian studies?”
Because Rick’s mom sounded genuinely interested, Vivian replied at length, explaining how her parents used to take her to programs and exhibits put on by the university, and it got her interested early on.
Mrs. Grant listened carefully and asked intelligent questions. Rick didn’t say a thing, but he was watching Vivian. His eyes never left her face. She couldn’t help but like the look in them, even though she wasn’t entirely sure what it was.
When they reached the duck pond, Rick helped his mom sit down in the seat of the walker and handed her the bag of food. The ducks had already come quacking and flapping to surround her, so they obviously recognized her as a source of food.
“It’s dried corn,” she explained to Vivian. “We used to give them bread, but Rick says it’s bad for them and made me change to corn. He’s bossy that way.”
“It is bad for them,” Rick said. “Corn is better.”
“I know.” Mrs. Grant sighed. “But they like bread better, poor things.”
“And I’m not bossy. I just don’t want you to hurt your beloved ducks.”
Vivian couldn’t help but laugh as the ducks busily gobbled up the kernels she threw out for them. “They seem to like the corn pretty well too.”
“I suppose.” She leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “But bread is their favorite. And Rick is a little bossy. But that’s okay.”
Still giggling, Vivian enjoyed watching the ducks’ meal and Mrs. Grant’s obvious delight in the animals. She knew them all and had given them silly little nicknames.
“The town used to have a sign up, asking people not to feed the ducks,” she said. “But people kept taking the sign down and feeding them anyway until they just gave up. These aren’t mallards. They’re not wild animals. They’re domesticated ducks that people dumped here at the pond. They were bred for people to take care of them. I’m not doing any harm.”
“I’m sure you’re not,” Vivian agreed. “All these ducks look very happy and healthy. People have been feeding ducks here as long as I’ve been alive. They’re like town pets.”
“Exactly.” Mrs. Grant turned toward Rick, who’d been watching and listening. “Doesn’t Vivian have lovely skin? And those beautiful blue eyes.”