Authors: Rachael Brownell
I try my best to console Grant. I’m not sure what to say. I know that he’s never respected him for the way he treated Grant and his mother. He was an awful person, but he was still his father. The one thing Grant has always wanted was answers from his father, and now he’ll never have that opportunity. He won’t get the closure he desperately needs.
***
Libby and I stand on the front porch and wave to Chester and Grant as they back out of the driveway. After we put the girls down for their naps, we head to the back porch for a much-needed girls’ days. It’s been months since the two of us have been able to sit out here and enjoy the river.
After moving back to New Bern, Grant and I have tried to lay low. Chester and Libby are among the small handful of people that we socialize with. Taking over the Thompson Foundation has kept me busy, and now with Celia’s birth, I’m thinking about handing the reign over to someone else and staying home full time. I need to talk it out first, and Libby will be honest with me.
“Have you talked to Grant about it yet?” she asks.
“Everything has been a whirlwind since Celia’s been born. First we were adjusting, and then he got injured. He found out his dad died, and now the funeral. It’s not a matter of making a decision together, it’s more about letting him know what I’m thinking.”
“He’s not going to care, but she will,” Libby replies, pointing to the sky.
Knowing what I need to do, I make a plan for when Grant returns, and try to enjoy the rest of the time Libby and I have together before the girls wake up. It’s not long before Keegan wanders out onto the patio and Celia’s cries come moments later. It’s as if she realized that she was the only one not out here.
We spend most of the afternoon sitting in the grass playing with the girls. Grant and Chester should be home soon so we head inside and start to prep dinner. Right on time, I hear the truck pull in as Libby is pulling the chicken Parmesan out of the oven.
“In here,” I holler when I hear the front door close.
“What smells so good?” Chester asks, taking a seat at the bar.
“Chicken parm,” Libby announces.
“Where’s Grant?” I ask when he doesn’t appear behind Chester.
“He went upstairs to check on Celia. He heard her on the baby monitor when we walked in.” She probably heard her daddy's truck and woke up.
“Go ahead. I got this,” Libby states, shooing me out of the kitchen with a towel.
“Grant,” I say as I push Celia’s door open. Sitting in the rocker by the window, I take in my strong, football playing, handsome husband as he gently rocks our daughter.
“She’s almost out,” he says softly.
“Dinner is almost ready, too.”
“Fantastic. I’m starving.”
“Are you doing okay?” I’m hoping that burying his father helped him settle some of his demons.
“I am. In fact, I think it was a good thing that I went. I got to see my grandparents and a few old friends. My father was a good man once. It’s the booze that turned him into an asshole.” Looking up from our sleeping daughter, Grant makes eye contact with me before he continues. “I promise to never be like that. I’ll never let something like alcohol change who I am.”
“I know. You’re not your father, Grant, but you do have him to partially thank for the man you’ve become. Because of him, you’re a stronger man who knows who he doesn’t want to be.” I pause as he stands, lying Celia back in her crib. She barely stirs as we close the door behind us. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”
Grant stops and turns to face me, his concern ever present. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine. I’m thinking about leaving the Foundation. As much as I love my job and the work I do, I love our family more and I want to be home with Celia,” I say quickly, wanting to get it all out before he’s able to start asking questions.
“Are you sure? I know your grandma left the Foundation to you because she trusted you.”
“I know and I’ll still play an active role in making sure that it’s running well, it’ll just be a smaller role. I’m thinking of asking your mother if she’d like to take over for me.”
“Really?” I’m surprised that he didn’t assume I would ask Lucy.
“Yeah. She kept it running after Grandma died and had earned her place within the Foundation through hard work. It should have been hers, and would have been, if you two hadn’t had to leave.”
“If that’s what you want to do, then I’ll support you one hundred percent.”
I give him a small kiss on the cheek and he wraps me in his arms. “There’s still one more person I have to talk to.”
“I know. Are you going right now?” he asks as we make our way down the stairs.
“After dinner. I’m starving.”
***
Walking up to the gazebo is bittersweet. So many memories have been made here. My first date with Grant. Our first kiss. Memories of my time with Grandma and so many conversations with her where both happy and sad tears have been shed. She was my rock. I told her everything. Our love for each other will span the test of time, even with her gone for so many years now. Eight to be exact, as of last month.
The sun is about to set so I take my favorite seat and watch as the colors begin to blend. Just as day and night merge to become one, I feel her presence.
“Hey, Grams. I know it’s been a while since we’ve had one of our talks, and I’m sorry. Life has been … busy. I’m sure you can see the absence of my large round belly. We had a little girl two weeks ago. She’s perfect. We named her Celia, after you. I’m hoping she’ll live up to the importance of the name. Standards are high already.”
I pause, not sure how to change topics. I’m sure she’s already aware of the reason for my visit. It feels as if she’s always watching me, keeping me safe and protected. For that, I will forever be grateful to her.
“Since Celia is here now, I’m going to be stepping back from the Foundation to focus on her and our family. Grant’s behind me and I hope you’re okay with my decision too. I’m not handing it over to just anyone, though. I’m going to offer the position to Lucy first. Since she and Dad moved back to New Bern, she’s been a little annoying. She has too much time on her hands and doesn’t do idle well. I think it’ll be good for her and for the Foundation.
“I love you, Grams; I hope you know that. I appreciate all that you left me—the house, the Foundation, and your love. If it weren’t for you, I never would have met Grant, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with my best friend, and my life wouldn’t be the same. We have a wonderful family, the only person missing is you. I know you’re here, though. I carry you in my heart everywhere I go.”
I watch as the sun set’s over the river and the lights flicker to life above my head. It’s amazing to me how much my life has changed since the first time I visited this gazebo alone. If it weren’t for Grandma, I never would have met Grant. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with him, twice. I’m one of the luckiest girls I know. How could I not be when they call my husband Lucky Thirteen?
About the Author
Rachael Brownell is an award-winning author of both Young-Adult and New-Adult Contemporary Romance and Founder of Great Lakes Book Bash.
She is from Kalamazoo, Michigan where she still lives with her husband and son. She has a Bachelor's degree in Advertising but currently works part time in the hospitality industry. When Rachael is not working on her next manuscript, you might find her on the golf course. (It's a family thing.) If you see her, step back. She is still learning.
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