Chapter Forty-One
Keeley
“You look tired,” Ezra tells me when he pulls up outside The Serendipity to pick me up so we can head to Silver Springs.
This again.
But I know he’s not wrong—I saw a bit of a resemblance to the Swamp Monster when I looked in the mirror this morning. I didn’t sleep a wink last night, tossing and turning while my own sour words— it has to be this way —burned in my brain.
“Thanks, bro,” I reply sarcastically as I climb into his SUV.
“Seriously, though. Are you okay?”
I grimace. “Beckett leaves today.”
“Yeah, I know. Did you two have a fight or something?”
“No.” I exhale sharply before admitting, “I’m just really sad it’s over.”
“It is? I just figured…” Ezra trails off, shooting me a slightly bemused look.
“Figured what?” I ask, my smile humorless.
My brother shrugs. We’re close, but we don’t really have heart-to-heart type conversations, well… ever. “I don’t know. Part of me figured that he might stay. That you might go there. That you’d do long distance.” He winces a little, like he senses that he’s overstepped our usual conversational boundaries. He adds a smile and shrug while saying, “But what do I know?”
Grateful for the shift in tone, I laugh and give him a little punch in the arm. “You know nothing, my dear brother.”
“Honestly, I don’t disagree. So let’s hope Ev gets Mae’s brains, because I am empty of all knowledge.” Ezra laughs, and I relax into my seat, glad that some kind of equilibrium is restored, for now, and that our conversation is back in safer territory, for now.
Talking about Beckett hurts too badly at the moment.
By the time we’re entering the Silver Springs lobby, I’m still trying to push away my swirling thoughts of last night at the fair and the fact that Becks is currently back at Mr. P’s apartment, packing the last of his stuff. I need to focus on Gramps right now.
Lainey, the receptionist, gives us a wave as we walk by. “Your grandfather is in much higher spirits today.”
“I’m so glad,” I reply. I have the old “Moondance” record tucked under one arm, and a box of chocolate-covered cherries—Gramps’s favorite—tucked under the other.
Ezra and I head towards the back porch, where Gramps is apparently relishing the fresh air after a couple of days in bed.
And Lainey’s not wrong. We find him in a rocking chair, tucked under a woolen blanket and cheerfully sipping coffee as he admires a group of birds hopping across a path that intersects the flowerbeds in the pretty gardens.
“Magpies,” Gramps tells us. “Four of them.”
I slide into the seat beside him, and Ezra sits across the table.
“Are there often birds in the garden here?” Ez asks conversationally. “Do they put out feed?”
“Never.” Gramps shakes his head in mild irritation. “Antonella who lives here is terrified of birds. Lets out an awful shriek if she sees one. So they never put out food. But these magpies have been in the garden since I came out.” He smiles affectionately at them, his eyes a little misty.
“Maybe they’re paying you a morning visit, too,” I say.
Gramps’s eyes—the same deep blue color that we share with Ezra and my father—fix on me, and for a moment, they’re startlingly clear. “Or, maybe they’re here to visit you.”
“That’s a nice thought.” I smile at him. “Hey Gramps, I brought something for you.”
I place the cherries and the record on the table in front of him.
He completely ignores the candy as he zeroes in on the record.
“Oh, I love this one.” He runs a wrinkled hand across the front of the record sleeve, and then begins humming the tune to himself, tapping out a rhythm with his fingertips.
“Oh, it’s a marvelous night for a moondance…” he sings softly to himself. Then stops. Looks from the record to the magpies. They’ve stopped hopping now. In fact, it almost seems like they’re looking at us.
Which is weird. Obviously, my lack of sleep is making itself known.
“Strange that the magpies are here today of all days. Four was for… what was it? A boy? Yes. Four for a boy. ”
Ezra and I share a concerned look before my brother reaches over and gently pats Gramps’s hand. “Is there a record player here, Gramps? I can ask Lainey to play it for you later. Or maybe we could go inside now and you could rest up while it plays. If there’s no record player, I could play it for you on my phone…”
Gramps isn’t listening. He’s sliding the record out of its sleeve.
“Oh, well the player’s not out here, Gramps,” I start, but I stop short when he pulls an old, yellowed envelope out of the sleeve next.
He holds it in his hand for a moment. Ezra and I share another look.
“What’s that, Gramps?” Ez asks gently.
“A letter from back when I was still a boy, in so many ways.” Gramps sets the envelope on the table. It’s addressed to him, his name written in a loopy, swirly script. He looks at it for a beat, then turns to me. “Do you have a boy in your life?”
“Um,” I say. Swallow a little painfully.
“A boy you love?” Gramps prompts.
“Yes.” The word tumbles out of me before I can stop it. Ezra’s eyes widen almost comically at my response.
Gramps looks at me for a long, long moment. His eyes are lucid again, but his brow is deeply furrowed.
And then, he surprises me by sliding the letter towards me. “This is for you, my sweet girl.”
My sweet girl.
He used to call me that all the time when I was growing up. I haven’t heard the endearment in ages, and it makes me smile as Gramps presses the letter into my hand. Unsure what else to do—and more than a little curious—I tuck it into my purse.
At that moment, the magpies in the garden fly off.
Gramps watches them go. “I was a very stubborn, headstrong boy back in my day,” he continues, his tone a little remorseful. He smiles down at the envelope. “Always thought I knew everything about the world when I knew nothing at all. I hope your boy isn’t too stubborn and proud to keep him from following his heart.”
“No, Beckett is…”
Incredible.
“Are you the same, Ben?” Gramps turns his eyes to my brother. “Stubborn?”
“I’m Ezra, Gramps,” my brother says, gently as could be. “Ben’s my dad, your son.”
“Ah. Yes.” Gramps nods, his eyes a little dull again. “Of course.”
“But in answer to your question… yes, I can be way too stubborn sometimes.” He grins at me. “Keeley here’s the same. It must run in the family.”
We spend the rest of the visit chatting on lighter topics, drinking coffee, and even playing a round of Gin Rummy.
When Gramps begins to tire, we make our leave. And as we say our goodbyes and give him hugs, Gramps says: “Remember, don’t let your circumstances dictate your heart, my sweet girl.”
The words hit me like an arrow to the heart. Bullseye.