Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Holt
If I didn’t have my glasses on already, I would assume I read the report wrong. But I didn’t. There it is, in literal black and white: McGrath. Mookie flails frantically in her harness and manages to lick my chin. Absentmindedly, I stroke her little head.
“But we don’t have a Hank McGrath in our family.” I’m not much of a historian, but I think I would remember a family member named Hank if we had one. This is only sixty years ago. Two or three generations back.
“Maybe we read something wrong? I’m going to see if Bett can help us.” Maple pats my shoulder and rushes off to find the officer.
It’s not long before Bett is back, elbowing me out of the way. I give up my chair to sit on her other side and let her take the lead on the computer. She clicks fast, screens flashing and programs flipping back and forth. Just as quickly as she’s clicking, she lets go of the mouse and sits back, her leather utility belt creaking.
“Welp. Looks like Walter McGrath was the prime suspect for the church robbery in 1963, but there was no evidence to support the one eyewitness who said they saw him around the church the day of the robbery. Walter was free to leave and leave he did. The McGraths moved out of Anchor Lake the next day. No one was ever arrested for the crime and the money was never found.”
I’m still confused. “To my knowledge, my family never lived in Anchor Lake until my parents moved here when they were pregnant with me.”
Bett shakes her no-nonsense head. “Says the McGraths rented a house on Pine Street for less than a year in the sixties.”
“Could it be a different McGrath? Like, not your family? You just share a last name?” Maple adds helpfully.
I’m nodding. McGrath isn’t super common, but it’s not unique either. “Yeah, maybe so.”
Bett leans forward and clicks once more. “Don’t know a Walter and Joan McGrath?” I shake my head, but I’ll also be calling my father after this to see if he has a copy of our family tree somewhere. “How about their son, Harold McGrath?”
My gaze snaps back to Bett. “Harold, did you say?”
She dips her head and folds her arms across her chest.
“Hank could be the nickname for Harold, right?” Maple says, but her voice is barely audible above the buzz in my head. “Holt?”
“Harold McGrath is my grandfather.”
To me, it feels like a bomb’s gone off. Maple’s mouth drops open but she doesn’t say a word. Bett swivels her head back and forth between us, then scrapes her chair back.
“Okay. Well, it looks like my job is done here.” She looks at each of us again, then shakes her head and walks away, shoes squeaking on the linoleum.
Maple’s mouth snaps shut and then she squeals, shooting to her feet. She comes over and cups my face, her excitement leaking onto Mookie who tries to both jump and bark her way out of the harness.
“We found Hank!”
I stand up and pet Mookie, trying to calm her down so she doesn’t strangle herself in the carrier. One side of my mouth hitches up in a wry smile. “So…my grandfather and your grandmother were…”
Maple’s face transforms into a beaming smile. There’s mischief in her eyes when she finishes my sentence. “Lovers.”
I reach up to run a hand through my hair. “I’m not sure if that’s hot or gross.”
Maple giggles and that’s enough to veer my thoughts from the past to the present. “I think it’s sweet.” She pauses expectantly. “Well, why don’t you call him? We can see if he wants to meet up with Grandma. We could even pick him up and bring him if it’s too far for him.”
“Whoa. Wait a second.” I slow her down, feeling guilty when the happy smile fades from her face. “Let’s think this through a second.”
Maple’s face goes pale. “Wait. Is he still married to your grandma? I didn’t even ask. I just assumed. I’m so sorry!”
I’m already shaking my head. “No, Grandma died twenty years ago. He lives alone in Raleigh, where my dad was raised.”
My thoughts are tumbling, spinning around this idea and wondering if we may have stepped into something we should have left alone. Maple’s thinking of matchmaking while I’m stuck on the very real possibility that my family robbed the Anchor Lake Baptist Church and left town in shame.
“Come on.” I put my hand on her lower back and escort her out of the police station, offering a thank-you to Bett as we leave. She’s on a call though and simply lifts her hand in acknowledgement.
It’s already hot outside, indicating that a dip in the lake might be a good idea this afternoon. But right now, all I can think about is if approaching my grandfather is a good idea. We’ve never been super close, especially since his health has declined and I got busy building my career.
“What is it?”
I realize Maple is staring at me while I’m lost in my head. Even Mookie is staring up at me, her little tongue hanging out the side of her mouth. I put my hand on Maple’s hip and offer an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry. I was just caught off guard finding out the mysterious Hank is my own grandfather. He’s not in the best health and I’m not sure bringing up anything to do with Anchor Lake is a good idea. I mean, based on Gracie’s journal, it sounds like they left in the middle of the night under suspicion of robbing the church.”
Maple rubs her hand up and down my arm. “His father, Holt. Not your grandpa. Hank, or Harold, was innocent, swept up in something he probably wanted nothing to do with.” Her face creases. “What kind of health issues does he have?”
I look away, guilt coating my worry and making my skin itch in the summer heat. “He’s got the starting stages of dementia and a bad hip. Last time I saw him was two years ago when I moved back to Anchor Lake and bought out Sunny Shores. I begged him to come live here, but he said he was fine where he was. I haven’t been back, and I feel like an asshole.”
Maple’s hand leaves my arm to thread around my waist. She offers me a side hug, both of us slowly walking back to my Jeep. “I know what you mean. I felt the same way about how I treated Grandma Gracie.”
When we get to the Jeep and I open her door, she pauses, looking deep into my eyes. “Maybe it’s time you reach out. Maybe this is some kind of gift from the universe to reconnect with your grandpa.”
I tilt my head and look at this beautiful woman who’s so different from any woman I’ve ever met. She’s physically gorgeous, sure. But she’s so much more. She’s kind. The type of kind that takes you by surprise and flips your world view upside down. She’s fun. She’s strong and adventurous, while also caring about her roots. Look at all she’s done to find her grandmother’s first love?
“You up for a road trip?” The offer is out before I can snatch it back and rethink it.
Maple’s face lights up and I push away all my previous worries. She bobs up and down on her toes and then presses a kiss to my face. Mookie’s back to frantically pawing at the air. Maple spins and climbs into the Jeep. I shut the door and round the hood.
“Guess we’re going to Raleigh, Mooks.”
First, we head to the cabin to pack an overnight bag and food for Mookie. Then we head to Sunny Shores where I inform Debbie I’m taking Monday off as well. She lifts an eyebrow and glances at Maple, but doesn’t give me shit. Debbie promises me they’ll be just fine without me, which I’m not sure if I should take as a compliment or an insult.
While Maple’s talking to Grandma Gracie about our last-minute plans to go see a friend, I look up pet-friendly hotels near my grandfather’s care home and book it. I’m not sure if Maple can make an exception about sleeping in beds, but there is a small loveseat in the room if she prefers that.
“I’ll be back in time for the brain scan on Tuesday,” Maple assures Gracie.
But Gracie doesn’t seem bothered. She’s in her favorite chair with her finger holding her place in another alien romance. “Oh, pish-posh. Silly brain scans. I swear, they just book these tests to get the insurance money. Take all the time you need, darling.” She looks over Maple’s shoulder to where I sit on the couch. “Enjoy your time with your fiancé.”
Gracie’s suggestively wagging her eyebrows—back to being painted an unnatural thick black line—but Maple ignores the teasing. I have a feeling she’s worried as to why Gracie still doesn’t remember that I’m a physical therapist here at Sunny Shores. That brain scan can’t come soon enough. Maple needs answers and so do the doctors so they can properly treat the dementia before it progresses.
Maple leans down to give Gracie another hug and kiss on the cheek. “Be good!” I get up and head for the door with Maple by my side and Mookie now on a leash.
“Screw that! I’m tired of being good! If the aliens come while you’re gone, beam me up, Scotty!” Her cackle is the last thing we hear as we close the door and punch in my code.
Maple is shaking her head. “I almost forgot how wonderful that woman is.”
I thread my fingers through Maple’s and walk hand in hand to my Jeep. “I see where you get it from, that’s for sure.” As we stop at the Jeep, I lean in and kiss her, Mookie lying down in the shade at our feet. I meant for it to be a quick kiss, but as the scent of her and the feel of her under my hands hits my senses, I can’t seem to pull away. Her hands slide into my hair and I don’t care who sees us.
She pulls away first, her little pants of air hitting my chin. “I want you to know, as much as I’d love to bring your grandfather back here so I can see Grandma’s face light up, I’ll respect your wishes. If he’s too frail or he gets upset, I promise I’ll let it drop. Okay?”
I give her waist a squeeze, feeling like if I’m not careful, I’m going to fall for this woman. Completely. “Okay.”
I kiss the tip of her nose and release her, stepping back so she can get in the vehicle. She does, taking care to put Mookie in her carrier in the back seat, and then we’re off to Raleigh. Maple mans the radio, stunning me with her terrible voice as she sings pop songs. I laugh though, pleased to see her comfortable around me with one bare foot tucked under her and her back to the passenger door. An hour into the drive, I beg for some country music when I feel like my ears might be bleeding. From the pop music, not her voice. She finally switches to a country station and sits back in her seat.
“My ex used to forbid me from singing,” she says quietly, staring out the windshield at the setting sun painting the highway in a golden glow. Green trees on each side flicker by quickly.
I glance over, angry on her behalf. “Have I mentioned what a dick he is?”
Maple shrugs. “It’s not even his request that’s so bad. It’s the fact that I let him silence me. I may be a terrible singer, but I love to sing and dance and move my body. I’m mad that I let him take that from me.”
I reach over and hold her hand. She quickly loses the frown, and before we switch freeways approaching the city, she’s asleep, her blonde hair covering her face. I smile at her sleeping form and wonder when I felt this level of comfort in the past. I can’t recall a time when I felt this…settled. Happy. Excited about every day. Certainly never with Macy.
The senior home is quiet when we arrive. I imagine all the residents are in their homes in front of televisions, bellies full of subpar food. That’s one of the things I spend money on at Sunny Shores. I want my residents to have gourmet food that’s good for their health, but also tasty.
I hate to do it, but I have to nudge Maple awake. Her head pops up and she swipes at the corner of her mouth before giving me an excited smile.
“We’re here?”
I nod. “We’re here.” We get out, pulling Mookie from the back, clipping her leash on, and walking to a patch of grass so she can do her business. Then we head for building three hundred, coming to stop at Grandpa’s door. I knock once, hoping I don’t startle him. He might even be snoozing, at which case, we’ll have to come back tomorrow.
I’m just about to suggest that when the door sweeps open. He stands there in his standard slacks and plaid button-down shirt, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t want chocolate!”
“I’m not selling any chocolate, Harold. It’s me, Holt. Your grandson.”
He purses his lips and then his face clears, tipping into a friendly smile. “Holt! Why didn’t you say so?” He pushes open the screen door and he lets the three of us enter. The place smells like toast and coffee, a scent that brings me back to being a little kid and visiting my grandparents.
“Grandpa, this is Maple and my dog, Mookie.” I get the introductions out of the way, hoping he won’t ask what Maple is to me. I forgot to ask if we were continuing with the engagement farce.
Grandpa ignores the dog yipping at his feet in favor of taking Maple’s outstretched hand and bringing it to his lips. “Well, hello, beautiful Maple.”
I roll my eyes. Grandpa was always a flirt and I see old age hasn’t changed him a bit. Maple eats it up, leaning in to give him a hug. Grandpa smiles conspiratorially over her shoulder. I huff out a laugh.
“We were hoping to chat with you about something,” I say when the hug goes on longer than necessary.
Am I jealous of my own grandfather right now?
Jesus. I’m farther gone over this woman than I thought.