Dammit. Sammie couldn’t fight back a matching smile. It was impossible to stay mad at him, even as she blew her nose and realized he was right about the snot on her face.
Her heart felt light, so wonderfully light. Even if she was still afraid of what it all meant. Of how the world, her friends, and, above all, her granny would react to what she had discovered about herself.
Even if everyone else abandoned her, she would always have Atticus.
He quietly slipped into the hallway, and Sammie waited in her room, cleaning up the mess she’d left on her desk the night before. The freshly signed yearbook she’d been looking through. The many crumpled notes she’d dug from the bottom of her backpack. A year of her life, written out on pages torn from composition notebooks, the handwriting of her friends there to remind her that she would have them still too. Hopefully.
After hearing Atticus leave the bathroom, Sammie rushed in behind him, slinging a greeting over her shoulder toward the kitchen. Her granny was always cooking, always baking. The smell of something spicy and warm wafted down the hall before Sammie shut the bathroom door.
A hot shower did wonders for her mood, and by the time Sammie joined her family in the kitchen, her nerves had abated. Atticus was already seated, begging for a serving of what was apparently a roast in the crock pot.
“It needs a few more hours,” Greta said, her tone brooking no further questions. Atticus huffed out a dramatic sigh as Sammie slid into the seat next to him. Their kitchen was tiny, the minimal counter space littered with small appliances that couldn’t be shoved into the overflowing cabinets. The tablepressed against the only bare wall, a bench on one side that the twins had claimed as small children, and one chair across from them where their grandmother always sat.
“You just ate,” Sammie scoffed, shoving him with her shoulder.
“But I’m still hungry.” Atticus dropped his head to the table and let out a pathetic groan.
“Here.” He looked up just in time to catch an apple that Greta tossed his way, chomping into it immediately. It was then that Sammie realized her granny had changed out of the typical blouse and skirt combo that she wore for church. She stood across the room in her work uniform, a black polo paired with khaki slacks.
“Are you going to the restaurant today?” Sammie asked, leaning forward on her elbows, chin propped in her hands.
Greta nodded. “Lisa’s kids all have strep.” Lisa was the weekend cook. Sammie frowned as Greta grabbed her keys off the counter. “She couldn’t find a sitter last minute, so I’m covering for her.”
Sammie frowned harder. “But it’s movie night.”
Greta gave her a sad, soft smile. “I know, baby.” She walked over and pressed a kiss to Sammie’s head, running a soft hand over her hair. “But I have to go in.”
“Get somebody else to.” Sammie knew she sounded childish, too much of a whine seeping into her words. Atticus raised a brow as he continued scarfing down the apple. Sammie couldn’t help herself, digging in. “You own the place, just make somebody else do it.”
“Samantha!”
Sammie winced at the frown deeper than her own that set lines into her granny’s face. Atticus snorted, earning a glare from both women.
“Sorry,” Sammie said, even though she wasn’t totally sure what she was apologizing for.
Greta pulled out her chair from the table, lowering herself into it gingerly. Even though she was active, she was still a woman in her late fifties, and her knees had both begun bothering her over the last several months. Years of standing in a kitchen, waiting tables. Wrangling two children that had fallen into her care as toddlers.
“That’s not how things work.” Greta gave both her grandchildren a stern look. Sammie was grateful that Atticus was also getting whatever speech they had coming. “Rather, that’s not how thingsshouldwork. Just because I own the restaurant doesn’t mean I’m absolved of my duties. Everyone shares the load, including me. I’m lucky to be able to help my employees. I have two wonderful children at home who are old enough to look after themselves.” She raised a brow at Atticus. “Mostly. If my people need help, I’m going to help them. And if you two ever find yourselves in a similar position, I want you to see it as the privilege that it is.”
Sammie wasn’t sure she fully understood her granny’s meaning. The idea of building up a business of her own but still having to do the grunt work wasn’t very appealing, if she was being honest. But Greta was smiling as she tied back her graying blonde hair that Sammie had always thought was so much prettier than her own dark locks. Her granny smiled often, and had always seemed so content with her life, despite the losses of her husband and only child.
“With great power comes great responsibility.” Atticus’ matter-of-fact words were garbled by the startlingly large bite of apple he was chewing.
“Sure.” Greta chuckled as she rose from the table, wincing as she pressed a hand to her lower back. “If movie quotes help youprocess the lesson, I’ll take it.” Sammie rolled her eyes at her brother’s smug smile.
The twins followed their grandmother from the room, all the way to the front door. Greta wrapped them each in a tight hug, planting a kiss on both of their foreheads.
“Love you, Granny,” Sammie said, Atticus’ voice echoing beside her.
Sundays were always movie night. Except that movie night didn’t really happen at night. It usually happened shortly after Greta got home from church, the three of them curling up on the couch to watch something together, then spending some time on their screened-in back porch, Sammie’s favorite place in their house. The sunroom was big, big enough that decades earlier their papaw had dragged a mattress out there for their mother. With the windows open to the screens, the warm midwest evening breeze was calming. It was the perfect place to talk about anything and everything.
Sammie had worried that their Sunday traditions would end when both twins had decided to stop going to church. Greta had initially seemed hurt, confused even. But on that first Sunday that they’d stayed home, she had returned from her morning worship with small smiles for both of them as she told Atticus it was his turn to pick a movie.
The tradition had stayed, despite their differences.
Sammie settled in on their old couch to watch whatever battle shonen anime Atticus was currently obsessed with. Bright colors flashed on the television as Sammie’s mind drifted. How would Greta react to what she and her brother had now confided in one another? Would she be hurt, confused? Would she be angry to find out both of her grandchildren were sinners according to the book she lived by?
Or would she smile and keep on loving them just the same?
