Chapter 28
Brody
"I need a word with my grandson." Arthur addresses James without taking his gaze off me.
"Of course." James stubs out his cigarette. "I’ll be waiting downstairs." He squeezes my shoulder, brushes past Arthur and shuts the door behind him.
Arthur walks toward me. His gait is slow. He’s using a cane for support. It makes him appear more frail than usual. His back, though, is ramrod stiff. His shoulders erect. But his cheeks are gaunt. If I ask him if he wants to sit down he’ll refuse.
Instead, I head toward one of the two chairs set between the outdoor heaters and fold my length into one of them.
After a moment’s hesitation, he seats himself in the other one. His forehead furrows. "You needn’t have done that."
I know what he’s referring to. "If I hadn’t, you’d have insisted on standing. It would have worn you out, but you wouldn’t have backed down."
He shoots me a contemplative look from under his bushy eyebrows. "You always were more thoughtful than the others."
"Because despite your bluster, I know you mean well. As do my brothers. Your methods, though, leave much to be desired."
"Hmm." He places his one hand over the one clasping the head of his cane. "Are you trying to tell me you regret my forcing the issue? It’s the only reason you moved fast and married your wife."
I firm my lips. "A decision I’m questioning."
"You mean, you’re running scared." His tone is casual. I sense he’s trying to wind me up, but that doesn’t stop me from stiffening.
"Scared? I’m not scared."
"Why else would you be hiding here, instead of being with your wife?" A satisfied light gleams in his eyes.
"Look Gramps, I know you think you know best—"
"I do.”
I rub at my temples. This man. He’s so sure of himself. How can I make him understand that sometimes you need things to unfold in their own time?
"How can you be so sure?"
"How can you not be sure?" He looks at me like I’m crazy.
"Because I’m not going to let myself be vulnerable enough to fall for someone." The words burst out.
It must be the fact that I’m emotionally vulnerable which has allowed me to lower my barriers… Enough to share this aloud.
I expect Arthur to cast aside my words, instead his gaze turns sympathetic. "It’s my fault."
"What do you mean?"
"You don’t get to be my age and not look back on your life and wonder about your choices." His shoulders sag.
He looks every one of his eighty-three years.
"I’m not sure I follow." I frown.
"I kept, first my sons, then my grandsons, at arm’s length.
I ignored my sons. Wasn't around for them much. Yet expected them to deliver on my ambitions. When my oldest son left, I was too caught up in my work to stop him. I was barely on speaking terms with my second son, your father. I ignored and belittled him. I never gave him the love and security of a father. And when I realized he wouldn’t be strong enough to take over the company after me, I ignored him completely. "
He tightens his jaw.
"Luckily, Quentin left home at eighteen, so he could develop his personality and find himself. When you and your brothers came along, I treated you all as assets.”
He squeezes the arm of his chair.
“You were only five when your father passed and six when your mother died. You were also the most sensitive of all your brothers. You withdrew into yourself when you lost your parents. I should have given you more space to mourn. I should have found you the right support to help to process your feelings. Instead, I pushed you and your brothers to excel at school. Unable to handle the responsibility of taking care of you boys, I pushed the lot of you away from me.”
The skin stretches white across his knuckles.
“And when you became adults, I saw the future of my company in you boys. I expected you to carry the Davenport name forward. So, I badgered the lot of you to settle down. I thought I knew what was best. I wanted to see my great grandkids before I passed."
"And you have.” I nod.
Nathan and Skylar have a son, Tyler and Priscilla have a daughter and Knox and June are about to give birth any day.
"Indeed." His lips quirk. "And sure, I may have manipulated the lot of them to get married."
"May have?"
He half smiles. "I admit, I coerced the lot of you into matrimony, but it was for your own good."
I groan. "Personally, I could have done with a little more time in getting my thoughts into some semblance of order before getting hitched."
He chuckles. "Ah, youth and thinking you have time for everything. You need to seize each moment, make the most of it. Make the most of this opportunity you’ve been given."
"You’re talking about my marriage?" I place the tips of my fingers together.
"I understand, it must seem like a big step forward. A leap into the unknown."
"You think?" I scoff.
"It’s life changing. And it can be daunting.
I remember when I got married. Your grandmother was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
I pursued her. I beat off my competitors and married her.
I couldn’t wait for her to be my wife. All through the ceremony, all I could see was her. We were blissfully happy."
He looks into the distance.
"And then, I threw myself into building an empire so I could keep her in style.
Only, that took me further away from her and our children.
I realized what was happening but felt powerless to stop it.
At some point it became not about the money but the thrill of playing out business gambles and winning.
" He swallows. "By the time I realized the fallacy of my actions, it was too late. She was gone. So was your father. And I was estranged from my other two sons. You and your brothers were coming into adulthood. That’s when I seized my chance.
I wanted to make sure the lot of you were settled in life.
It would have made her happy. I went at it the wrong way, though. "
I’ve never heard him sound this sincere. That he’s owning up to his mistakes is unexpected. Besides, he’s right. But given his tortured features, I don’t have the heart to tell him so.
Instead, I watch the snowflakes begin to drift down.
We’re sheltered, and the heaters on either side of us provide warmth, but the temperature has dropped considerably.
I hunch into my jacket. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want you to think about what you’re going to do next."
I slide my finger around the rim of my collar. I needed a little space from her; that’s why I ran.
Because I'm falling for her. It’s why I asked her to marry me. I’m terrified at how vulnerable that makes me feel. In fact, I can barely admit this to myself, let alone have the courage to share my feelings with her.
"It was tough losing first Dad, then Mom so soon afterward. And you’re right, I was too young to process it in a healthy way. Thankfully, I had my brothers. Uncle Quentin, too, filled in as a male role model."
He pales further, then seems to get a hold of himself. "You’re right. I wasn’t there for you boys the way I should have been. I’m asking you not to punish yourself for my faults."
I shoot him a curious glance. "What do you mean?"
"I’m afraid the lack of love and security in your childhood means that you and your brothers have a hard time accepting it in your life. My insisting that the lot of you serve in the military…" He lowers his chin. "What I’m trying to say is that you shouldn’t run from your feelings."
I struggle to hide my surprise and fail.
This is Arthur. The cantankerous head of the Davenport family who’s spent his life getting all up into the lives of his family.
The man who treated his family with the same cutthroat machinations as his group of companies.
You could be forgiven for thinking that the man was an automaton.
Yet here he is, confessing first, to having been in love with my grandmother, and then, talking to me about feelings, in the breath of a few seconds.
"I see you’re taken aback." He arches an eyebrow.
"Can you blame me? You don’t exactly fit the image of a cuddly ol’ grandpa."
"God forbid," he huffs. "And no, I’m not the kind to talk about my feelings, but then…Imelda happened."
"Oh?" I ask, curious.
"I loved your grandmother. But I was a different person then. I was so lost in power plays and growing the business, I couldn’t find the time to tell her enough that she meant the world to me.
Her death broke me. It pushed me further into bitterness.
But Imelda’s forthrightness was exactly what I needed to give me a rude wake-up call.
She made me realize I couldn’t live the rest of my life hiding from the stuff that really matters. "
"Which is?"
"Which is telling you how I really feel. I love you, Brody. I love all of you. And I want the best for you."
My heart squeezes in my chest. A strange tightness grips my rib cage. Damn, I do believe Gramps is sincere. And somehow hearing him confess his feelings seems to break a dam somewhere inside of me. "I love you, too, Grandad."
He blinks rapidly. Something suspiciously like tears shimmers in his eyes.
Then, he grins. "Good. Then you’ll do exactly as I tell you."