“Noni, have you taken your medicine today?” I asked, staring into her eyes. Eyes that always reminded me of melted chocolate.

Her nose wrinkled, brows pulling together as she pondered my question. “I don’t remember.”

I wanted to be angry. Wanted very much to snap at her and demand she take better care of herself, but the truth was she couldn’t help it. Knowing that knocked the feeling of selfishness I carried on my shoulders up a peg or two. Even though she’d all but pushed me out the door when the chance to travel halfway around the world had come up, I still felt guilty for leaving her to seek my own life.

I swallowed the sigh I felt building. After grabbing her pill container, I dumped the medicine into my hand. “Here, Noni, you hold these and I’ll get you some water.”

Her fragile hand shook as I transferred the pills from my palm to hers. “That seems like an awful lot,” she said, eyes darting between my own and the assorted mix of medicines she needed to take.

I nodded, understanding how overwhelming it had to be. “Remember though, some of those are vitamins.”

She snorted. “Vitamins. It’s a wonder they haven’t come up with an anti-aging pill yet.”

I selected a small glass from the overhead cabinet, filled it with water, and then handed it to her, waiting as she took each pill. “Wouldn’t that be nice?”

She pushed the empty glass into my hands and rolled her eyes. “Scientist. The only good thing to come out of them was the polio vaccine.”

She was feisty, my Noni. “Not true. What about insulin? The chicken pox vaccine…”

“Pah! The chicken pox vaccine. And how many kids still get it?” she said, waving her hand to dismiss the question. “Back in my day, we fought it on our own. Calamine lotion, a cool washcloth, and a whole lot of patience. No wonder most kids these days are such pansies.”

“Noni!” I said, trying my hardest not to laugh. It only encouraged her, and she didn’t need any encouragement on speaking her mind. She had that part covered.

“And don’t get me started on male enhancement medicines. What, I ask you, is the point of some eighty-year-old man worrying about that part of his body? Seems to me he has better things to think about, like making sure his affairs are in order and praying for the last eighty years of misbehavior. At least then, he might have a chance at getting past the pearly gates. Wouldn’t surprise me if half the male population, deceased that is, isn’t standing along the gates of heaven, scratching their heads and wondering why the devil they can’t get inside.” She made a huffing noise and pinched her lips together, her knobby finger coming up with a stern shake before continuing, “Find a smart one, Nova, but make sure he’s humble and worthy enough, or you’ll never see him on the other side.”

I caught her hand up in my own and pressed it to my cheek. “I will, Noni.”

“I’m hungry,” she said, patting my shoulder with her other hand. “We should go see what Stanley has on special.”

Just like that, the subject was changed.

“I’ll get our jackets,” I said, letting go of her hand.

“I’d like to wear my cardigan,” she announced.

“Okay, but you’ll have to wear your jacket over top of it,” I said, moving to the front closet.

“Whatever for? It’s spring, Nova,” she replied sharply.

I sighed, blew out another deep breath, and squared my shoulders as if preparing for battle. “No, Noni, we’re in September now. The wind will cut right through you, and the last thing you need is to catch a cold.”

After draping the jackets over my arm, I added the cardigan to the top and closed the closet door. I waited for her to bolster some sort of snarky reply, but I was met with silence.

“Noni?”

She trundled into view. “Oh, good, you have my cardigan. Looks like it’s going to be a cold day. The weatherman said this winter will be the coldest it’s been in some time.”

A warning rang through me as she pulled her cardigan on and then stuffed her arms inside her jacket. It was in the eyes where I could see it, if I looked close enough. Her memory, or lack of it, went in and out like the electricity before it completely went out in a winter storm.  

At her insistence, Noni and I walked to the Bering Strait Cafe just down the street. By the time we made it inside, she was red faced and wincing because her legs bothered her.

“And how are my two favorite girls today?” Stanley Lewis asked as he helped Noni out of her jacket.

“Flatterer,” Noni said, tugging her cardigan back into line. “We’ll have whatever’s on special, Stanley, and something hot to drink. Coffee, Nova?” she asked.

“Tea. Thank you, Mr. Lewis,” I said, guiding Noni over to what she thought of as her table. Her real reason to sit there was because it gave her full view of the road out front. It was often a reliable source of entertainment back when I was younger, and Noni’s mind wasn’t slipping. She knew all the gossip. Could tell stories about anyone walking by, and give back stories on their family as well.

We usually ate at the cafe for the better part of the week because Noni didn’t remember going and would insist we either have lunch or dinner there. Mr. Lewis, being a friend of Noni’s, knew her condition, and he was a Godsend most days. His menu hadn’t changed since the day he opened. But in Noni’s case, he always seemed to have a special on hand for her, and it was always different. I wondered if it was because he knew she needed well-rounded meals, and that I was nothing more than a passable cook… like Noni herself?

He’d shocked her the first time he offered her the special of the day. I remember her waving him off with a chuckle when he claimed it was something new he was trying out and then went on to tell her what he’d be teasing her taste buds with. Secretly, I thought it was his way of hitting on her since they were both widows and lonely. He kept the ruse up for over a year, which was long enough for it to stick in Noni’s long-term memory. Unfortunately, it was right after that year mark when things began to slip. At first, it was small things, things most people seemed to forget because they were too busy remembering all the bigger stuff.

Noni’s mind had been sharp, trap-like, so when she couldn’t remember bits and pieces of her day, it was more than concerning. Not one to mince words, Noni put her foot down and said, “For Heaven’s sake, child, everyone forgets things once in a while. I’m old. It’s bound to happen. Don’t worry yourself over the trivial things when there’s so many other important things needing your attention.”

“So what’s on special today?” Noni asked, squinting at the little chalkboard hanging by the register.

It was another thing Mr. Lewis did especially for Noni. If anyone else asked for the special while Noni and I were there, they’d get a sharp look, which told them to pipe down and order something from the menu. Most folks knew Noni and what was happening with her mind. It was a comfort of sorts, even in these overwhelming times.

“Looks like fresh Haddock, wild rice, and coleslaw,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows at her as Jan, Mr. Lewis’s only waitress, set our steaming mugs down in front of us with a smile before darting back to the kitchen.

“Well, if he keeps that up, I’ll be in here every day,” Noni said, giggling.

My heart expanded, lifting as if filled with helium. I loved hearing her laugh, but I especially loved hearing her laugh when something tickled her.

We were the only two in the cafe since it was past lunch and too early for dinner. It made it easier when Noni was having a bad day, as I’d come to think of them. On her bad days, I tried to keep her home with bribes like dinner and a movie with popcorn and soda as incentives. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, and when it didn’t, our day went from bad to worse, especially if we showed up at lunch or dinner.

On her good days, I’d ask her to tell me stories about when she was little. It fascinated me hearing about how her family had come to be in Alaska. And the stories she’d tell were ones that shouldn’t be forgotten.

“Noni, tell me about when you first moved to Nome,” I said, wrapping my hands around the mug to thaw them out.

“You’ve heard that story a million times,” she said, chuckling.

“Make it a million and one?” I asked, quirking my brow as I smirked at her.

Her head tilted as she looked at me. “All right, but then I’m telling you about the time my brother went ice fishing with Papa and caught a polar bear.”

Intrigued, I almost asked her to tell me that one first, but decided against it. I really loved hearing about how her family had packed everything they owned, traveled through endless countries, and then sailed the Bering Sea just so her father could be a gold miner in Alaska.

“He always thought he’d be rich,” Noni said, sighing. “Gold fever they called it. Probably still do. It took my mother, my brother, and me working to keep the family from losing everything. And what we couldn’t provide, the community did. There were some winters I didn’t think we’d make it, and then some wonderful soul would show up in our darkest hour of need with food, extra blankets, and sometimes a load of wood to burn if my brother didn’t have the time to cut what we’d need for the colder months.”

“He died in a mining accident you said before. What kind of mining accident was it?” I asked, wondering if, for once, she’d tell me the whole story.

“There isn’t really a story to tell, Nova. I only know what my mother told us. He went to his claim, there was an accident, and he died. Maybe one day when I see him again, he’ll tell me what happened,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Why do you always say that?” I asked.

“Say what?”

“The whole ‘when I get to heaven, I’ll ask so and so this, or find out the whole reason for that sort of thing,’” I said, keeping my tone level despite how much it upset me.

Mr. Lewis chose that moment to clear the doors of the kitchen, carrying along the scent of pan-fried halibut.

Not to be interrupted, Noni answered as our plates were set in front of us. “Nova, if you think for one second that anyone is getting out of this life alive, I fear I haven’t taught you what life is truly all about.”

I rolled my eyes. “You taught me everything I know. But it still doesn’t mean I have to like it when you talk about death so much.”

She took a bite of halibut and closed her eyes with a sigh. “Stanley, I believe this is my favorite dish yet.”

His cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink as he dipped his head. “Thank you, Noni, your happiness is my own. Now, do you ladies require anything else before I head back to the kitchen?”

“A nip of the good stuff wouldn’t go amiss on such a blustery day,” Noni said, sharing a secret smile with Mr. Lewis.

“I’ll just top this off for you.” He picked up her coffee and carried it back to the kitchen.

“A nip, huh?” I shook my head.

“Youth is wasted on the youth… yes, a nip. Believe it or not, just because someone gets old doesn’t mean they stop enjoying things in life. I’d put a shot of brandy in my oatmeal if I thought it would make it taste better,” she said, giving me a stern look.

“I just bet you would, Mrs. Ornery,” I said, clinking my fork against hers when she held it up and pointed it at me.

“Pot. Kettle,” she said, making me laugh.

Mr. Lewis came back with two coffees, placing one in front of Noni, and setting the other one at the edge of the table as he dragged a chair over and plunked it down in front of it. He sat down and then asked, “Mind if I join you?”

“Stanley’s father used to make his own whiskey, didn’t he?” Noni asked Mr. Lewis, forking another bite of halibut into her mouth.

He nodded, smiling enough that twin dimples bracketed his mouth. “He did. Sold it to, when the law wasn’t looking.”

“He teach you how to make it?” Noni asked.

“Why? Thinking on taking up bootlegging?” he countered.

Noni didn’t miss a beat. “And so what if I was? Nobody would suspect an old lady, would they?”

He hooted. “I’ll tell ya, if I thought for one second you’d be up for it, we’d leave just as soon as you were finished with your food and I’d show you how to make the best damn whiskey Nome has ever tasted.”

“Only Nome, huh?” she bantered.

“Well, he wasn’t much for expansion,” Stanley said, lifting his cup to take a sip.

“Hard to outrun the law with sled dogs, I suppose,” she said, lifting her own cup in a silent toast.

He shook his head as he beamed a smile at her. “I suppose so.”

“You could teach Nova. Seems something like that shouldn’t be forgotten,” Noni said, hiding her mouth behind her mug.

“Noni! I’m not doing that,” I said, lightly smacking the table to make my point.

The two of them laughed at me.

“Couldn’t help you even if I wanted to. My dad never did get around to showing me. I think he was afraid I would try to outrun the law with a dogsled team,” Stanley said, winking at me.

“He was probably right. If trouble didn’t find you, you found trouble.” Noni tapped the edge of her plate. “It’s a good thing you found better things to do with your life.”

“Why thank you, Noni. I’ll take that compliment,” he said, pushing up from his seat, and then collecting both our empty plates.

“It was really good, Mr. Lewis. Thanks,” I said, scooping up our silverware and setting it on the top plate.

“It’s Stanley, young lady. How many time do I have to tell you that? Yet you still call me Mr. Lewis,” he said, giving me a hard time.

“That’s because she was raised with manners. I saw to that,” Noni answered, beaming.

“You did a fine job, Noni. A fine one. Now, I best get these dishes washed and ready for the dinner crowd. Have a good day, ladies. Come back soon,” he said as I fished out some cash from my wallet and dropped it on the table because he never billed us when we came in.

He always saw me do it. And he always shook his head when I told him to put it toward one of those Alaskan sea cruises where he could whale watch. It was our running joke since he couldn’t step foot on a boat without turning green, or so he said.

“You up for the walk home, or should I see if Jan will give us a ride?” I asked Noni as I helped her into her jacket.

“A little fresh air won’t hurt us. Especially you since you ate so much lunch,” she said, poking my jacket in the vicinity of my stomach.

“You ate as much as I did,” I said, opening the door for her.

She loved to banter, which was probably where I got it from. “Well, I suppose we’ll be a pair won’t we, waddling down the road.”

“You mean teetering? You’re the one who had a nip,” I reminded her.

“Probably could have used another one for the road,” she said, stuffing her arm through mine as the wind tugged at our clothes.

“Did I ever tell you how you got your name?” Noni asked.

“Once. A long time ago,” I answered, unable to look at her. She’d told me, but when I asked my mom, she laughed and called Noni an old fool because it wasn’t why they, my mother and father, chose to call me Nova.

“I always thought of you as my brand-new star. My Nova. You’ve brought such joy to my life throughout the years,” Noni said.

I bit my tongue. There was no way I’d tell her what her own daughter said to me.

“I heard her that day, and she was wrong to say it to you,” Noni said as if she’d plucked the thought right out of my head.

“Heard what?” I asked, because it was possible her thoughts didn’t run alongside my own. After all, my mother had been known to be more than a little jealous of me. Now and then, she’d find a way to try to tarnish a good memory.

“I named you. Me. Because the two of them were too busy mourning their old lives to take care of the one they created. So you were my Nova. My new star. My darling granddaughter, who I’d see raised right no matter what,” she said, giving a sharp nod of her head. “Your mother would have told you just about anything to cause a rift. So, no, you weren’t named after the supposed car you were conceived it. I should know since neither of them owned a car, nor did any of their heathen friends.”

I thought about it for a minute before asking, “Do you think that maybe some people just aren’t meant to be parents?”

She pulled her arm free of mine and put it around me. As she hugged me with a strength that surprised me, she said, “More often than not, honey. But that’s no fault of the child, and really, they’re better off without that kind of raising. Too many displaced kids and not enough love. I wonder what’s worse…” she added. “Parents who cast children off, or parents who give their children gifts instead of their time? Either way, it’s a shame to see it happen and not be able to do anything about it. But I could with you, and so I did.”

“That you did, Noni,” I said, wrapping my own arm around her as we trundled up the walkway to her house.