Calum leaving town all together had broken his heart in a way he didn’t quite know how to process, so his tactic was to push it all away and not talk about it.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Connor
The drive had gone by quickly,with my thoughts still ricocheting around in my head. The SUV came to a controlled stop as Dad pulled into the driveway of the white two-storey wood-frame house I grew up in. Built in the traditional Lunenburg-style, clapboard siding, a gable roof, and bump dormers in the living room and bedrooms facing the front of the house.
Mom was waiting at the front door, her eyes bloodshot but dry, ready to wrap me up in her warm embrace. She held me close and I couldn’t help it, I cried again. The pain of missing Gramps was acute.
“I know, sweetie,” Mom said, stroking my hair, comforting me the way only a mother could. She held me until I stopped sobbing. When my tears were finally spent, I pulled away and dried my cheeks with the sleeve of my sweater. “I think it’s time for bed, what do you think?” I nodded, letting her guide me up the stairs to my room.
I sat numbly on my bed, glancing around the four lavender walls—at the old boy band posters and photographs pinned to the corkboard. Things hadn’t changed in here since before I left for college. Taped to my mirror were pictures of Michelle and me at prom. A framed photograph of Gramps, Cal, and me whale-watching the summer I turned eight sat on my end table.
Mom followed my eyes, glancing at the photograph that had captured my attention. She cleared her throat, her eyes sympathetic. “Gramps left a letter for you...” Her eyes went to the white envelope on my nightstand, propped up against the lamp. My name was written on it in Gramps’s scrawling penmanship.
Fresh tears welled up in my eyes as I reached for it, bringing it to my heart to hold it there. Mom pressed a kiss to my forehead, tears in her own eyes. She left me to read it on my own.
Alone in my room, I opened the envelope with trembling hands.
Dear Connor,
I’m very proud of you for getting your Bachelor of Music, and I know one day, youwillmake a fantastic teacher, but I think you know what I’m going to ask you to do…
It’s time to start living for you, even if it means having hard conversations with the people you love. If the stage is calling you, sweetheart…answer it. Don’t hide behind anyone’s shadow, you were meant to shine on your own. Don’t let fear keep you from reaching for and holding on to the things that bring you happiness.
I know you carry a lot of worries that your father won’t approve of the paths you wish to take, but I hope in the coming year…you learn how to let go of that fear and follow your heart anyway. His response is not your responsibility to bear, but I assure you…he will come around.
For the record, that boy of yours has always hadmyapproval. He’s a good lad, just like his granddad. I know he’ll treat you right and help you build your dreams. Let him.
Love always,
Gramps
Fresh tears cascadeddown my cheeks, blurring the final line of Gramps’s letter. He’d been the only one to know about my true feelings for Dare—and the stage. And he wanted me to go for it.
He’d listened to me war with myself for years over my dreams, and he’d always offered the same steady and true advice. A degree wouldn’t hurt my prospects as a performer, but it definitely would secure me a job if performing didn’t pan out.
Gramps had been one of a kind—beloved by the community, and well known around the East Coast music scene. Music had been integrated into his life from a very early age, but he believed family wasthe mostimportant legacy one could leave behind.
My grandfather had immigrated to Canada from Ireland with his family in 1932. He, along with his older brothers, mother, father, and uncles, traveled over by boat. Gramps’s uncles had been Vaudeville performers, and Gramps liked to tell us entertaining was in our blood.
They ended up settling in Halifax, Nova Scotia, where Gramps’s father and uncles took jobs working at the docks, but his uncles still played music locally.
Gramps attended a regular public school for a few years, until it was discovered he had a real talent for drumming. He was then transferred to the Academy of Music Performance on a scholarship.
Gramps was the youngest of four boys, and all of his older brothers went to fight in the great wars. He’d been born almost six years after them, so by the time he was old enough to join the army reserves, the Second World War was over. Gramps still joined as a line drummer anyway, searching for adventure.
He just didn’t expect to find it so close to home. While based out of Sydney, Gramps went out with the lads for a couple of drinks and met Nan. She was performing at the pub, playing piano and singing. He’d been enraptured by her from the moment he first heard her voice, and the second he looked at her…he knew. They fell in love and got married in the summer of 1952.
Gramps retired from the military not long after he found love, but he never retired from playing. After getting married, they moved to Lunenburg. Nan started teaching piano lessons for locals and Gramps started teaching at the Academy. He’d still join up with a couple of members from his old regiment to play at the local music festivals on occasion—one of them being Dare’s maternal grandfather.
Gramps had outlived almost all his friends, shifting over time from a cherished performer to helping organize the events. Even in his old age, Gramps still loved playing, but toward the end…he preferred to help out local talent. To listen to new emerging artists and help elevate them to be heard.
His greatest work was probably my brother and his band. If it weren’t for Gramps, Dare and Calum wouldn’t have met Evan, and they wouldn’t have gotten the opportunities they did to perform locally. Gramps had taught Evan how to play the drums and had helped him get a scholarship at the Academy—the same school Cal and Dare went to.
Gramps hadn’t had to do much, aside from introduce Evan to the boys. They realized quickly they were all meant to be friends, that they were all meant to make music together, and so they did. The three had been inseparable ever since.
Our grandfather would occasionally sit in on their practices, listen to their songs, and critique them when they needed it. He helped them grow into the incredible artists they were today.
