Gran nodded. “Glen Adams.”
I put down my fork and stared at Gran. Eddie and Ralph did the same, then we all exchanged a look. Was she saying what we thought she was saying? “So you and Glen...”
“We became very close friends during some hard years. Charlie, of course, was paralyzed, and then he died. And poor Glen’s wife didn’t even know who he was. He cared for her at home as long as he could—longer than he should have, actually; she roamed the house at all hours and kept running away. He finally had to put her in the nursing home. And then he was out there every day for most of the day, even though half the time she thought he was trying to harm her.”
“Oh, Gran.”
“After she died, he moved to Dallas to be near his daughter. Wemet up several times a year. He went with me on some of my trips abroad.”
“You loved him?”
“Oh, yes, honey.”
“So why didn’t you marry him?” Eddie asked.
“Oh, we talked about it. But his kids were very sensitive—they hated the idea of their mother being replaced, and he didn’t want them to know that we’d seen each other when she was alive—although I don’t think that you can cheat on someone who has already mentally gone. Besides, we didn’t consummate our relationship until she’d passed. It was a line neither one of us wanted to cross.”
“Well, there’s a lot two people can do besides actual consummation,” Ralph said.
His words echoed Matt’s the night we’d caught the kids digging in the yard. My already warm face grew hotter.
“Hey!” Eddie put his hands over his ears. “This is my mother we’re talking about!”
“Glen should have stood up to his children and the gossips and married you,” I said.
“Oh, I never wanted to marry again.” Gran buttered a roll, as if we were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “I liked having my own space and being able to come and go as I pleased without having to answer to anyone. Plus I wanted to travel more than he did. For a long while there, though, we gave each other a lot of comfort.”
“So you had another romance in your life,” Ralph said.
“Oh, more than one, dear. You know all those years I traveled?”
We all nodded our heads. Throughout my childhood, Gran had taken lots of exotic trips.
“Well, there a French man who’d meet up with me. He was single, too, and the kind of person who didn’t want to be tied down. Oh, we had the best times! I think one reason it was so wonderful was because we only saw each other often enough to not get sick of each other.”
“I had no idea!” Eddie put his napkin on the table, clearly flummoxed.
“And later, there was a man in New York who had the most delightful sense of humor. We visited Hong Kong and Australia and Tahiti together.” Gran speared a dainty bite of salad. “There were other little flirtations here and there along the way, but those were the main ones.”
“Wow!” said Ralph, clearly impressed.
It took Eddie a moment to close his gaping jaw. “I’m gobsmacked.”
Gran laughed. “Most people don’t really know what goes on in another person’s private life.” She primly took a sip of iced tea. “Most of us keep secrets because we’re afraid of being judged. Funny thing is, the person who judges us the most harshly is usually ourselves, so our guilt and regret and shame just fester in the dark.”
“So the answer is complete disclosure?”
“Oh, no, not necessarily,” Gran said. “The answer is forgiveness. Of others, of course, but most especially of ourselves.”
Eddie put down his fork. “How, exactly, do you do that?”
“Yeah,” Ralph asked, leaning forward.
“It’s taken me ninety-one years to figure it out, but after Hope and Matt found out the truth about that baby, I had to find a way to forgive myself or else die of remorse. I know this will sound strange to you, but Mother gave me the key.”
“Is she still on the ceiling?” Ralph asked, clearly intrigued.
“I honestly don’t know,” Gran said. “I don’t see her, but she talks to me sometimes. And I distinctly heard her say, ‘Pack your burdens in a suitcase and give it to God.’”
