Something More by Janet Dailey Page A

favorite actor. Every time one of his old movies ran on television, we watched it. It didn’t matter how many times she might have seen a particular one before; we watched it again.” Her expression grew thoughtful. “I think she liked him so much because he reminded her of my grandfather. She showed me a picture once, and there was a definite similarity around the nose and eyes.”
    Remembering that, especially the half-wistful and half-painful look in her grandmother’s eyes, Angie felt again the sadness of her grandmother’s passing.
    Seeing that sadness in Angie’s face, Ima Jane remarked, “You still miss your grandmother, don’t you?”
    Without a trace of self-consciousness, Angie nodded. “I expect I always will.”
    â€œDid she ever remarry?” Ima Jane wondered.
    â€œNo. She used to say she was the kind of woman who could love only one man, and that man was my grandfather. ‘My Blue Boy,’ she used to call him,” Angie recalled.
    â€œBlue Boy?” Ima Jane repeated, her curiosity aroused.
    â€œYes. He had a birthmark the color of lapis right here.” Angie touched a spot high on her left temple near the hairline. “A blue nevus is the proper name for it. It’s very similar in size to a large mole, only it’s blue. The shades can range from light to dark.”
    â€œInteresting,” Ima Jane murmured.
    Griff leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table while he held his cup near his mouth. “Did she ever hear from him while he was here looking for the gold?”
    â€œOnly two letters. One he wrote shortly after he arrived in the area when all the enthusiasm and excitement for the search were still fresh. In the second and last one, he talked about giving up and coming home. There was a sense of despair in it, not so much in the words, but between the lines.”
    â€œSounds like you still have those letters, too,” Griff surmised.
    â€œYes.” Smiling absently, Angie recalled, “Grandma always kept them in the drawer of her bed stand. Nearly every night before she went to sleep, she’d take them out and read them. The writing is so faded from all the times she ran her fingers over the lines that you can barely read them now. There are even a couple places where the ink has been blurred by tear stains.”
    Griff didn’t care about all that sentimental nonsense. “Did he mention whether he found any of the places he’d been askin’ people ’bout?”
    â€œNo. In fact, he only made one reference to his search.” She paused to recall the exact wording. Like her grandmother, she had long ago committed the letters to memory. “ ‘It’s all confusing, Hannah. Nothing I’ve found makes sense.’” Angie pulled her gaze from its sightless stare into space and glanced at her tablemates. “That’s what I meant about the note of despair in his last letter.”
    â€œSounds like he was searching in the wrong area,” Griff murmured thoughtfully.
    â€œWho knows?” Angie lifted her shoulders in a shrug of ignorance.
    â€œAnd it isn’t likely we’ll ever know either.” Ima Jane released a heavy sigh and lowered her cup, glancing at her watch. “Heavens, look at the time, Griff. It’s already after ten. People will start arriving in another twenty minutes. We’d better get moving.” She was on her feet, snatching the cup from his hand and grabbing the water glasses before the last sentence was out of her mouth.
    â€œWould you like some help?” Angie offered, rising to her feet.
    A look of gratitude flashed across the woman’s face. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind—”
    â€œMind?!” Angie laughed at the idea. “I’d love it. This will be like stepping back in time.”
    â€œExcept Reverend Firsten is far from being your old-time Bible-thumper,” Ima Jane declared,