Free The Way Back to Happiness by Elizabeth Bass Page A

aunt backed down. “Well . . . we’re heading out to The Villas to load up Alabama’s things. We’ll come back this afternoon on our way out of town.”
    “You should go straight home,” Gladdie said. “You don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”
    “It’s Sunday,” Bev reminded her. “We’ll be back.”
    At The Villas they loaded up Bev’s tiny car with as much of Alabama’s stuff as possible. When Bev wasn’t paying attention, Alabama slipped down to the garage, to Gladdie’s rarely used Buick, and retrieved the shoe box containing her grandmother’s cassettes from the front seat.
    She was on the way back up in the elevator when it stopped on the ground floor to let in a ghost.
    At least, Wink startled her as much as a ghost would have. A ghost in light green pants and a pink plaid shirt. “Well, if it’s not my little lifesaver!” he said, beaming.
    Not a ghost, then. Confusion flustered her. “I-I didn’t save you. The health center guys did.” There was a small bandage on his throat to testify to that fact.
    But he was alive! She’d thought she would never see him again. Maybe she wasn’t the angel of death after all. She wanted to hug him, but that would have been too weird, so she smiled.
    “They told me you called health center,” Wink said.
    “Well, yeah . . . any moron could have done that.”
    “But not just any moron did, did they?” Wink laughed and pressed the button for his floor, which was one above Gladdie’s. “How’s Gladys?”
    She shrugged. “She had gallbladder surgery. I guess she’ll be all right.”
    “Sure she will! That’s one of those things nobody really needs—tonsils, appendix, gallbladders. Better off without ’em.”
    “But she’s stuck in the hospital, and my aunt’s taking me away to New Sparta. . . .” Her voice broke, leaving her feeling like an idiot.
    Wink grabbed her shoulders and squeezed them. For once, the look in his eye was dead serious. “Don’t you worry. I’ll go visit your grandmother every day—every day, do you hear me?—and try to keep her spirits up. I’ll even bring my ukulele.”
    Gladdie’ll love that.
    “Starting tomorrow,” he promised. “And tell her to phone me if there’s anything she needs, you hear?”
    The doors opened on Gladdie’s floor.
    “Okay,” she said. “I’ll tell her.”
    Warn her.
    He grinned, and she hurried away so quickly that she stumbled on the hallway carpet.
    “See you next trip!” Wink called after her.
    When Alabama and Bev stopped back at the hospital on the way out of town, Gladdie looked even more glum than she had that morning. To cheer her up, Alabama blurted out, “Guess what? Wink’s not dead.”
    Her grandmother lifted slightly in surprise, then winced. “He’s not?”
    “I met him in the elevator at The Villas. He looked the same as always.”
    “There now,” Bev said. “You see? Another medical miracle!”
    “He said he’s going to come visit you.”
    Gladdie’s forehead wrinkled with apprehension. “What would he do that for?”
    Alabama shrugged. “He also said to call if you needed anything.”
    “Why would I need anything?” Gladdie looked perturbed. “And if he’s going to pop up at any time with that ukulele of his . . . well, that’s going to be a lot of botheration.”
    Alabama hadn’t even mentioned the ukulele.
    “I think it’s nice,” Bev said. “And don’t dismiss music as therapy. It can do a world of good.”
    “You’ve never heard him play that thing,” Gladdie grumbled.
    The talk about music made Alabama remember the shoe box. She took out the paper grocery sack she’d brought with her that contained her Walkman and the box, picked out The Sound of Music sound track, and inserted it into the player. Of Gladdie’s music, it was Alabama’s favorite. It always reminded her of when they’d show the movie on television when she was a kid. It was usually Sunday night, and her mom would make a big event of it—they’d get a pizza