American Girl

Montana

Lena McDowell drew in her breath and straightened her mini skirt before tugging on the door. She had a tough assignment for the school paper but volunteered for it. In ten days, her hometown was hosting a pioneer day. Her great-grandmother was the oldest living resident in the state of Montana. Although the old woman had a frail mind, she recalled the old days as though they were yesterday. Lena offered to interview her.

Lena entered the nursing home. A receptionist wearing a nurse's uniform smiled welcomingly. Still, the teen girl hesitated. She loved writing stories for the school newspaper but dreaded interviewing. Unlike her twin sister, she was less outgoing. Lorna should have offered to do the interview instead, but she was at the mall with her friends—probably in the video arcade.

"Good morning," the receptionist greeted in a sugary voice. "How may I help you today?"

"I'm here to see Lena Mowbray," the young newspaper reporter stated. "I'm her great-granddaughter."

"Oh, yes." The receptionist rifled through a clipboard filled with paperwork. "You phoned earlier. Mrs. Mowbray is in the garden room. It's along the corridor and to your left."

"Thank you." Lena reached into her handbag to pull out a pad and pencil. Taking a deep breath, she hurried in the indicated direction. As she moved away, she thought she heard the nurse whisper, 'Good luck.'

French doors led into the garden room. Lena's hand hesitated above the door handle. Inside, an old woman sat hunched in a wheelchair. She faced the doorway. Lena noticed her ankle-length dress and the ivory shawl draped over her shoulders. Her white hair scarcely covered her head, and her eyes seemed unclear. A long time had passed since the girl had seen her elderly relative.

Lena had never visited the old lady alone. Usually, the family came during the Sunday visiting hours. During those times, she and Lorna stayed in the background while their parents spoke in quiet tones with the oldest member of their family. Over time, their visits grew further apart. Lorna usually ducked out with excuses about other arrangements.

Depressing the handle, Lena pushed open the door and entered. Her great-grandmother looked at her expectantly, then cast her eyes downward. The teenage girl stood awkwardly in front of her. She didn't know how to begin or what to say.

"Who are you?" the old woman asked, her voice old and unused.

"I'm Lena...Lena McDowell, Granny," she introduced nervously. "I'm your great-granddaughter...Lucy's daughter."

"Lucy who?" The rheumy eyes looked at her suspiciously.

"Lucy McDowell." Lena hesitated, trying to find a way to explain. "Lucy McDowell, who was Lucy Mowbray before she married my father, Frank McDowell."

"Lucy? Lucy?" the great-grandmother mused. Her forehead wrinkles grew deeper. An intermittent time passed. Lena waited patiently. "Lucille. My Ezekiel's Lucille."

"Yes, that's right, Granny. Grandpa Zeke's daughter, Lucille." Lena's voice rose with excitement. "Everyone calls her Lucy."

Lena squatted in front of the wheelchair. Her mini skirt rose slightly, catching the old woman's attention.

"What's that you're wearing, child?" The eyes grew skeptical again. "You should cover yourself up. No one should go around like that, exposing yourself."

"It's 1977, Granny. All the girls dress like this," Lena protested, yanking her skirt further down her thighs.

"Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" the great-grandmother grumbled. "Who did you say you were?"