I shivered thinking about how hurt D-daddy must have been when he found out that Mom wasn’t his child. Then I turned back to the jam-packed living room.
After the funeral and reception and visitors for miles, Lovey pulled me aside and said, “Do you think you could get Rob settled in here tonight? The guest bedroom has clean sheets.”
“What do you mean here? Why isn’t he just going back to Salisbury?”
I heard his deep voice from behind me. “That’s exactly what I said. I promise it will be fine. It’s only two hours.”
“It is getting dark,” Lovey protested. “I won’t hear of it, so don’t bring it up again.”
She kissed Rob’s cheek and said, “Thank you for everything you did to make this day tolerable.”
Then she kissed me and whispered in my ear, “That combination of heart and head isn’t always easy to find...”
I smirked at her. “Good night, Lovey. I love you.”
“It was a lovely service,” I said to Rob as I extracted towels and washcloths out of the linen closet and handed them to him.
“Yeah.”
“Look, Rob, I said I was sorry, okay? You don’t have to freeze me out.”
He smiled. “I’m not freezing you out, Ann. I was just agreeing with you.”
“Oh.” I could feel my chin starting to quiver, the busyness of the day seeping out and the sadness pouring in. I didn’t want to cry, and I didn’t want Rob to comfort me, but the man was practically comfort in a bottle. It was like my head couldn’t help but want to be on his chest, and I couldn’t possibly pull away from those strong arms wrapped around me.
He kissed the top of my head and said, “I know it doesn’t help right now, but he’s in a better place. He has a brand-new body and he’s dining with his savior tonight. So be sad for you, but be so happy for him.”
I nodded and pulled away, wiping my eyes. I made my way toward the kitchen and, though it looked different, that kitchen table where I had spent so many fun nights with Lovey and D-daddy, so many of my fondest moments with my family, was still there. I opened the freezer, handed Rob a Klondike bar and extracted a box of Sugar Wafers.
I sat down and he sat down beside me, wordlessly, waiting for my instructions. I rolled the foil on my Klondike bar down, and he did the same. Then I touched my hard chocolate shell to his and said, “To D-daddy and his brand-new body.”
Rob smiled. “To D-daddy.”
While we ate I told Rob every single memory I ever had with my grandfather, the way he’d always stop and get me Luden’s cough drops because candy wasn’t allowed at school and how he used to drive me around the yard on the riding lawn mower and how proud he had been at my induction into Phi Beta Kappa.
“You see,” Rob said. “He got to be there for all of that. He got to see you grow up and be so amazing and happy.” He looked down at his Klondike bar. “And beautiful.”
I raised my eyebrow, opened the box of Sugar Wafers, removed one tan pack and handed him a row.
“Frozen?”
“Yup. Frozen. It’s the only way, really.”
He crunched, little pieces of wafer crumbling onto the table. “This is truly excellent. I mean, really, really good. It’s a little like ice cream but with a texture to it.”
“Right,” I said. “D-daddy didn’t mess around.”
Even though I smiled, I could feel the tears coming down my cheeks again.
Rob reached over and took my hand. “I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head. “No. It’s good. See, I thought that I would always remember him the way he’s been the past couple of years. That I’d only think of him in the chair or the bed or the wheelchair. That him barely speaking to me and the dimness in his face would be all I would think about.” I wiped my tears away and said, “But that’s not it. I remember all the really good times too.”
He smiled. “I’m so glad, Annie. You deserve all those good memories.”
I scooted my chair back, resolving that I would leave the memory of this night, the butterflies in my stomach and the feeling that here was a man, a good man, who got me. It was easy and fun but also felt safe and right. But it was more than that. There was that inexplicable element, that sixth sense that he saw me in a real way that no one else did, and that I did the same for him. But I just didn’t know anymore. I had been so, so wrong. How could I ever trust myself to be right again?
“Okay, then. I’d better get going,” I said. I could sink intoHolden’s memory foam mattress and pull up the thick, fluffy down comforter. Sleep sounded so appealing. Maybe more appealing than Holden.
