Chapter 28
CAROLINE
Iawkwardly pivot around Grandpa’s hospital room with a small potted plant in one hand and a book of Sunday Times crossword puzzles in the other.
“There’s no room to put it anywhere,” I mumble to myself.
“Maybe we can tape some of the cards to the wall?” Grandpa ventures.
After only three days in the hospital, every available surface in his room is covered in bouquets of flowers, gift bags, and get-well-soon cards—a testament to how well-loved Grandpa is despite keeping more to himself since his first fall last year.
Word must’ve gotten around that he was in the hospital.
I shuffle a few things around to make enough space to set down the fern, then place the puzzle book on his bedside tray table. With a sigh, I take off my coat and drape it over a nearby chair, then lower down to perch next to Grandpa’s outstretched legs, careful not to bump him.
“You just missed your parents, darling,” Grandpa says, his voice a little rougher than usual.
“Oh?” I pass him his water cup. “Too bad.”
It’s not; I’ve kept our interactions to a minimum since election night. When I’d called my mother to tell her they’d have to cut their cruise short and fly home, the conversation had been clipped and awkward. I haven’t seen either of my parents since they got back.
Grandpa watches me closely, probably picking up on my unease, and sets his water on the tray table. “Miles stopped by this morning too.”
“He did?” I can’t help the way I perk up at the mention of his name, like a hopeful puppy who just heard the word walk.
He nods. “It was awfully kind of him to check in on me. He’s a good one.”
“I know.” I busy myself smoothing out the rumpled edge of the blanket. “How did he look?”
“Like a broken heart on legs.”
A surprised, sad sort of laughter escapes my throat, though my stomach twists at the reminder that he’s been struggling.
“Same as you,” he adds, patting my knee.
“Yeah?” I smile sadly, knowing I’ve been about as put together as I feel lately.
If not for my job, I wouldn’t bother doing my hair or makeup.
I’ve been wearing cozy pajamas and oversized scarves like a uniform at home, like I’ve been trying to bundle myself in softness, cocooning myself to find some scrap of comfort.
But it’s futile. Nothing compares to being in Miles’ arms.
Grandpa gives me a slow nod. “He was telling me a bit about getting sober. Mentioned his one-year mark is coming up this weekend.”
“This weekend?” A pang of guilt hits me for not putting two and two together about the milestone. “He never mentioned a specific date to me.”
Grandpa shrugs. “Something worth celebrating, certainly. You know, a few of the boys I flew with in Korea had trouble with drinking after the war. After seeing what we saw…” Grandpa trails off, then shakes his head as if choosing not to go there.
“Not an easy thing to kick, in any case, though a few of them tried.”
My heart squeezes. For those men who suffered through trauma and addiction. For my grandfather, who saw his friends struggle that way. And for Miles, whose call almost two weeks ago still weighs heavily on my heart.
“Have you called him yet?”
“No, I’ve been focusing on you.” I’ve been busy researching all the assisted living facilities in Lennox Valley.
His doctors say recovery will be long at his age and, given how much assistance he needs with transferring from bed to chair, he’ll need more support than he can receive from me and Sadie.
On top of that, living as remotely as we do, it may not be feasible to get all the therapies and services he’ll need to come out to the house.
We all knew this could happen someday, but I wasn’t ready for someday to be now.
“I think I’ve found a place that seems promising, actually.”
“Oh, your parents dropped off some brochures. I guess they’ve had someone look into it too.” He gestures vaguely at the crowded table beside him.
“Really?”
“They said it was no rush—that I could read them over when I was up to it.”
I stand and peer into the labyrinth of petals and cards, shifting things around until I spot the brochures tucked between two small vases. I somehow extract them without knocking anything over, then drop into the chair next to Grandpa’s bed.
“Let’s see… Mason Seniors Lodge.” Not recognizing the name, I flip it over to read the address on the back.
“Oh, this one’s in Seattle.” I frown and set it aside, picking up the next one.
“Hearthstone Gardens… Seattle?” Grandpa appears as confused as I am.
I shuffle through the rest with a cold, tingling sensation rising on the back of my neck.
“Seattle, Seattle, and…” My shoulders drop. “Grandpa, these are all in the city.”
“They are?”
“Is that what you want? I didn’t think—”
“No, darling, the thought had never occurred to me.” His expression is baffled. “I thought I’d stay in Lennox. I’ve lived here my whole life.”
“Mom and Dad didn’t ask you what you wanted? Just assumed and—” I grit my teeth, cutting myself off before I say any more.
“No, they didn’t,” he admits.
I blow a breath up at the ceiling, trying to contain my anger.
“They probably think it’ll be easier if I’m closer to where they live.”
“I don’t care!” I throw up my hands. “This is your life. They should ask you what you want. Respect your wishes.”
I hear myself say the words before the obvious slams into me: this is exactly what they do with me.
Treat me as if my opinions don’t matter or I don’t know what I want for myself.
They’ve pulled this nonsense for so long, they’ve trained me to second-guess whether I truly know what’s best for me.
My therapist was right. I’ve learned to defer to their guidance.
I’ve been living for them. Bending to them. Like an obedient child.
Well, I’m not a damn child anymore.
I push to stand and snatch up my coat. “This is unbelievable. I have to go.”
“Caroline, wait.”
I spin back to face Grandpa. “I need to talk to them! They can’t keep doing this.”
“Darling, I know better than to get in front of a woman on a warpath and I’m in no shape to stop you, regardless. But, before you go ripping into your parents…”
“What?” Immediately concerned, I sink back into the chair. “What is it?”
“Wherever I end up—” he starts. “Seattle or Lennox Valley or Timbuktu—”
I can’t help but smile.
“I want you to know the house is yours.”
My amusement vanishes. “What?”
“The deed’s already signed over. The place is paid for. So you’ll only have maintenance and repairs to deal with.”
“Grandpa,” I say, shaking my head. “This is… No, I can’t accept—”
“Nonsense,” he says, squeezing my fingers. “I know how much you love it here, Caroline. You’ve come alive since you’ve been living with me. You’re finally chasing after what you want and building your own life, on your own terms. It would make me happy to see you stay.”
“What about my cousins? Is it fair to—”
He lifts a hand, cutting me off. “I’ve evened things out with their inheritance. And, if any of them give you grief about it after I die, I will personally haunt them.”
I blow out a laugh. “Quite the threat.”
He winks and pats my arm. “Anyway, just keep that in your back pocket.”
“What do you mean?” I tilt my head in question.
“Well,” he starts, his demeanor turning more serious, “something tells me your parents might think moving me to the city will sway you to do the same.”
My face falls. Of course. They’re trying to make my decisions for me, as usual. Dad’s always seen my move to Lennox as some kind of rebellious phase that would eventually end. And, without Grandpa here, he’d assume I’d have no reason to stay.
Setting my jaw, I get up once more and move to leave.
“Oh, and, for the love of God,” he calls after me, “find a way to work something out with Miles.”
I open my mouth to protest, knowing there are multiple reasons we can’t be together, but he holds up a finger to stop me.
“Don’t argue with a broken old man. I’ve seen how that boy looks at you.”
“Wha—? How does he look at me?”
“Like you hung the damn moon.” He picks up the book of crosswords and waves me away. “Now go give ’em hell.”