Purebred by Bonnie Bryant

smile.
    “Unfortunately, Jessie had been driving,” Grand Alice went on. “No one blamed her for what happened—there were witnesses who saw the accident, and said that the car went completely out of control—but Jessie blamed herself. She still can’t forgive herself. Now it seems like the only time she’s ever happy is when she’s taking photographs. It’s the only time that she can completely forget about her family.” Grand Alice shook her head. “We never talk about Lawrence and Joy, or New York, because it’s easier for Jessie not to remember them.”
    Carole frowned. “But that doesn’t make sense,” she argued. “I don’t understand that kind of attitude. My mom died—”
    “I know, dear. I loved your momma. I don’t forget her.”
    “But that’s exactly what I mean,” Carole insisted. “I would never want to forget her. In fact, my dad and I talk about her all the time. We talk about the things we used to do together, and we talk about what Mom would think or say if she were still alive. If she knew I had a horse, for instance. I need to talk about her. I never want to forget a single thing about her.”
    Grand Alice laid her hand against Carole’s cheek, and Carole leaned against it for a moment. “You must understandthat everyone grieves differently,” she said gently. “Do you remember your mother’s funeral—how some people were crying, and some were not?”
    “Yes.” Carole did remember.
    “And you and your father, you weren’t always sad the same amount at the same times, were you?” Carole shook her head. “People all mourn differently, Carole. They all deal with pain in different ways. Personally, I like your way better than Jessie’s. I’ve lost a lot of loved ones in my life, and if I tried to forget them all I wouldn’t have much memory left. But your case is different from Jessie’s—you don’t blame yourself for your mother’s death. You don’t feel guilty. And even if the circumstances were the same—well, people are different, that’s all. You need to respect Jessie’s right to forget just as she needs to respect your right to remember.”
    Carole thought that she understood. “I’ll try,” she said. “I guess I still don’t really understand Jessie, but maybe I don’t have to. I guess I shouldn’t have said what I did, either. I think I’d better apologize.”
    “I think that’s a good idea,” Grand Alice said with a nod of her head. “You’re a compassionate person, Carole. Be kind to Jessie. Her life has not been easy.”
    “Miss Alice?” Colonel Hanson knocked, then opened the door. “I came to see if you would favor me with a dance.” He looked from Carole to Grand Alice and back again. “Or am I interrupting?”
    “Carole and I just came in here for a quiet chat,” Grand Alice said. “I think we’re finished now.”
    “We were talking about Aunt Jessie,” Carole said. “Grand Alice told me about Lawrence and Joy.”
    Colonel Hanson nodded slowly. “So now you know,” he said. “Lawrence was a good man, Carole, and you would have liked him as an uncle. You and Joy might have been good friends.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t like not telling you about them, Carole, but Jessie keeps that part of her life so private.… I thought you ought to hear it from this side of the family.”
    Carole nodded. After what Grand Alice had told her, she understood why her father had kept the secret.
    “She knows now,” Grand Alice said. “She’s old enough to understand. And I’d be pleased to dance with you, grandson, only none of that fast stuff, do you hear me? When you get to my age, you move slow.” She lifted her chin regally and held her hand up to Colonel Hanson with the grace of a queen. He laughed and helped her to her feet.
    “A fox trot is all,” he promised, leading her to the dance floor.
    Carole leaned against the door frame and watched them. Christina’s father’s “lousy jazz”