Granny lets out a “pfft” and sighs. “Heck no. Don’t think Rich and I didn’t do the math that you stayed over with your old buddy.”
Heat flashes off my neck and I rush out a “sorry.” What for, as a grown adult with my own life and choices, I’m not sure.
But Granny surprises me. “No need to be sorry.” She pauses, her fingernail tracing over my scalp to section my hair. “I shouldn’t have been so hard on your mom and dad for having you so young. What good did it do me anyway?”
I want to point out that I did not instantly get pregnant because I stayed at Brodie’s last night, but I’m more interested in her rare admission of remorse. “Tell me more about them.”
She snorts. “Well, I didn’t braid your dad’s hair before any school dances, but we did take pictures of the two of them before prom. Your mom had on this big yellow gown, huge skirt on the thing. Looked like a princess. Your dad was just taken by her.”
“Was that even in style back then?”
Granny chuckles. “It didn’t matter. Your mom could have pulled anything off. Part of what your dad loved about her. She was just so . . . comfortable with herself.” She pauses, starting the braid a few inches back from the crown of my head. “You’re a lot like her. Free spirit. Sure of yourself. I always envied that about the two of you. You don’t give a hoot what anybody else thinks.”
I let that sink in. This is about as warm and fuzzy as Granny ever gets outside of our Coke and cake sessions. Even then, it’s usually delivered with a kind of medical sterility. I assumed she was like that to keep from getting upset about losing my parents to that car accident. My mom was the driver that night, and I think Granny always blamed her to some degree, even though the accident took Mom too.
But was that why Granny was so hard on me all the time? Because I’m like my mom? My stomach turns, the compassion for her pain mixing with the acknowledgment of my own hurt. Those two things can be true, and I can also be glad that Granny survived the fire yesterday. Because despite it all, I do love her.
Life is simple in the woods. Plants, fungi, and animals each hold their role, giving and taking, living and dying. Even though the same principles apply to people, people seem infinitely more complicated.
And for the record, I wish I gave fewer hoots what other people think.
Granny ties off my braid and sweeps it over my shoulder with a pat. “Go find a mirror and check it, but you’re done.”
“Thank you.” I turn to hug her, squeezing a little extra hard. “I’m glad you made it, Granny. I love you.”
“Love you too, doll. Glad you’re here.”
A whiff of smoke comes out of her hair. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I called the salon and Josie can come out here tomorrow to set your hair.”
“Oh, you girls. My set’s not until Tuesday anyway. I’ll be up and at ‘em by then.”
I shrug. “Yeah, but you deserve to have not-smoky hair before that.”
She waves a hand at me and just shakes her head. “Go finish getting ready. Your boy should be here any minute.”
As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door. I leave the bedroom, cross the living room, and open the front door to find Brodie. He’s wearing a nice sweater with tan pants, a collared jacket, pristine white sneakers, and a broad smile. I grin back at him. “Hi.”
“Hey.” His brown eyes sparkle as he looks around the living room, then plants a sweet kiss on my lips. I suppress a shiver, resting my hands on his chest.
“You look great,” I say.
Brodie just shakes his head. “You’re gorgeous.” His eyes snap to the room behind me. “Hey, Richard.”
Richard chuckles, wandering into the living room from his bedroom. “Only took you two, what, twenty years?”
I blush as Brodie steps in, closes the door, pulls me into his side, and kisses my temple. “Good things come to those who wait, right?”
My stomach dips. This is all so new. It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since the switch flipped on my feelings for Brodie. I don’t think he’s being fake now, but it’s a lot to process when I’ve spent so many years simultaneously being mad at him and wishing he was in my life. “Are you sure you’re staying back at the house? We can give you a ride.”
“Nah,” he says. “My flingin’ days are over. I’ll stay back here at the house with the missus.”
“The missus, huh?” I ask with a wink. “I’ll have my phone on me if anything comes up. We’ll come right back.”
“Don’t worry about us. Stay in town. We’ve always got Brodie’s colleagues to call,” Richard says, referring to the fire department.
“Okay, well, I want you to call me before it comes to that,” I warn him.
“We’re just fifteen minutes away,” Brodie adds.
