Harvest Moon
Ruth Tracy looked up at the groan echoing through the household. What now?
She didn't have long to wait as her fourteen-year-old grandson came clattering down the stairs. "Grandma! I've got a zit!"
The boy topped her by a head, and she had to peer up past the tragic amber eyes to see the spot smack dab in the middle of his forehead. Ruth pursed her lips, "And what if you do? It's not the end of the world, Gordon."
The adolescent stared at her as if she had gone mad. "Grandma, tonight's the Harvest Dance at the school! I can't take Patty looking like this!"
"You most certainly can, and you will. No grandson of mine is going to leave a girl standing alone. Now you just march upstairs and get ready for school, and stop this foolishness."
Gordon stared at her for a long moment, then with shoulders slumped turned away. "Yes, ma'am," he said, his voice heavy with defeat.
As she watched the teen climb the stairs, she sighed. "Gordon," she called. When he turned, a look of hopelessness in his eyes, she shook her head. "In my bathroom cabinet, on the second shelf, get the bottle of Acnagone and bring it here."
She didn't really hold with vanity, but Gordon was in the throes of puberty. She could still remember how strongly her own emotions had run at the time. A simple thing like a blemish could be earth-shattering. The alacrity with which the boy returned, holding the bottle as if it held the elixir of life itself, told her all she needed to know.
He stood before her chair, holding out the bottle with a mixture of hope and trepidation in his eyes. "Well, get down here, sweetie. Kneel here in front of me."
Gordon knelt in front of her, his eyes glued on her face. Biting his lip, he asked, "Will it hurt?"
"And if it does? Surely the big dance is worth a little bit of pain." Ruth gently teased the boy. Screwing the top off of the bottle revealed an applicator tip. She squeezed a small amount of gel directly on the spot, then sat back. "There. All done."
"Is it gone?" Gordon whispered hopefully.
"No, honey. The gel takes several hours to work. Now, you don't have practice until after school, right?"
"No, Coach is giving us the night off because of the dance. I have to be at the pool at 7a.m. tomorrow, though."
"Gordon, tomorrow is your brother's birthday. You're not going to be gone all day, are you?"
"No, I'll be home by three, Grandma." The boy shrugged, "Besides, it's not as if Johnny's going to hang around. Not with Stephanie taking up all his time."
Ruth heard the wistfulness in the boy's voice. Gordon had always looked up to his older brothers, and with Scott in England and Virgil in Denver, both attending college, it was John who bore the brunt of the hero worship.
But John had a steady girlfriend now, and less time for his little brothers. It didn't seem to bother Alan, but Gordon truly seemed to miss him. Ruth made a mental note to speak to John about it. A girlfriend was all well and good, but family was forever. More so for her grandsons than most, having grown up motherless.
She looked at Gordon, her hand reaching to caress his cheek. "Your brother loves you, don't you ever doubt that."
Gordon rolled his eyes. "Grandma…"
"All right, I know. Manly men don't admit to love. You scoot, I don't want to hear you've missed the bus. Oh, and put this back where you found it."
Gordon popped up, and took the bottle. "Thanks, Grandma."
He started for the stairs, then stopped, and came back and kissed Ruth's cheek before trotting away.
Ruth smiled, a hand going to her cheek.