“No worries,” he assured me. “And please call me Joe.”
“Your name is Joe Jackson? Like the singer? The one who sang, Is She Really Going Out With Him?”
He laughed. “Same name, though I’m hardly a singer. “
I smiled. He might not be the Joe Jackson of rock fame, but his voice was melodic and made me feel squishy happy.
“As to your question,” he continued. “I died of a heart attack after a long and wonderful life.”
“Did you have children?”
“Ahh, I did,” he said. “Three terrific boys who married three amazing wives and gave me seven brilliant and adorable grandchildren—four girls and three boys.” He got lost in his memories for a bit.
I stayed silent and hoped for more. He didn’t disappoint.
“I had a good life, Daisy—a happy life. Got married right out of law school to a wonderful gal named Clara. Good woman. Good mother. Good wife. Loved her with all my heart.”
“Is she still alive?” I asked, feeling wonky. Was he still on the Earthly plane because he had unfinished business with Clara? That felt like a huge conflict of interest for me. Gramwas in love with Mr. Jackson, and for all intents and purposes, I was sure he loved her back.
Had I gotten it all wrong? The thought left a sour taste in my mouth. I didn’t show it. That would be insulting. Gram would whoop my ass. Of that, I was certain.
“No,” he said with a fond smile. “My Clara passed when she was only forty-five of cancer.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said, feeling like a gaping ass for my previous thoughts.
“Me too,” he replied. “It was a heartbreaking situation. She was well aware that she was going to die. Before she left us, she did all sorts of lovely things for our boys. Wrote them meaningful letters to be handed out as they reached milestones in their lives—marriages, children and the such. We even made some videos to be shown on future birthdays and holidays when she felt well enough. She was such a lovely person that she made lists of presents that she wanted the boys to have for the foreseeable holidays and insisted I run out to the store and buy them. Immediately.” He chuckled at the memory. “I did, and we wrapped them together. Over the years, it was such a wonderful gift for our boys, knowing their mom was still thinking about them, still with them, even though she wasn’t around.”
“That’s beautiful,” I whispered, liking the woman I would never have the opportunity to meet.
“It was,” he said. Then paused for a long moment. “Before she died, she tried to make me promise to find someone else to love—someone to spend my life with. Someone to grow old with and do the things we would never get to experience together.”
“Did you?”
He shook his head. “No. I did not. I tried, but never found another who I could love as much as I loved Clara… until Imet your grandmother. I never realized that a person could love two different people with the same intensity and care. It’s different, but no less glorious and wonderful. That’s one of the things I needed you to know, Daisy. Gram knows all about Clara and my boys. She’s so happy I had love during my living years. I find it tragic that someone as stunning and amazing as your grandmother wasn’t able to experience true love during the time she was alive. But I’m humbled and grateful that she and I get to experience it together now—in death. There aren’t many who are as blessed as we are.”
I was unable to speak. Tears clogged my throat. I nodded jerkily and swiped at the tears that had escaped.
“Funny, that,” he said, reaching out and gently drying my face with a white handkerchief. “Finding love in the next chapter. Clara is smiling down on me. I feel it in my heart. And I can only hope that she found a lovely soul to spend her years with in the afterlife.”
What the man described was so remarkable, I couldn’t find any words. Mr. Joe Jackson was a diamond—a pure, gorgeous, shimmering jewel.
“So,” he said, clasping his hands in front of him in a formal manner. “I wanted to talk to you… to ask a question… to get your permission.”
I knew exactly where this was going. The word yes was on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to scream it, but I let the man get through his inquiry before I lost it and sobbed happy tears.
“Gram and I have talked about it at length,” he explained. “We’re both aware it might seem silly or unnecessary to some, but to us… it’s important.” He paused and wrung his hands nervously. “You are the most important person in her life. She raised you and loves you to the moon and back. Daisy, I would like your permission to marry Gram.”
I screamed. Loud. For a hot sec Mr. Jackson looked terrified. It was only when I repeated the word yes so many times that I couldn’t even count them did he relax and smile.
It took me a good ten minutes to compose myself. Thankfully, Mr. Jackson carried two handkerchiefs in his breast pocket. I made very good use of them.
Once the snot and tears were taken care of, I spoke. “I do have a question, though.”
“Please ask,” he replied.
“Do you call her Gram?”
He chuckled and I would swear he blushed. “In public yes and she calls me Mr. Jackson. But in private… no. We have pet names for each other.”
