Chapter Forty Lillian
Chapter Forty
Lillian
Checking Grady out of the facility two days later had been emotional and more difficult than I’d expected.
I wanted him in our house, in our place with our family, but a part of me feared no longer having medical professionals at my fingertips.
A home health care professional would be coming by regularly.
I’d already lined up respite workers. This was a different approach to Grady’s illness, but one he clearly wanted.
After a nap in his own bed, Grady had insisted on a picnic supper by the shore. Easy enough to accomplish since our place overlooked the Potomac River.
Once I’d finished law school, we’d sold our little ranch-style home in South Carolina and relocated to Alexandria.
The early days were financially tight, but we’d followed our dreams. Grady took a job with a deep-sea fishing charter company.
We worked. We saved. He started his own charter fishing business, and we bought a bungalow fixer-upper on the river.
Grady’s first project had been to install wheelchair-accessible walkways leading to the dock.
We’d been happy here.
We still were happy here, I corrected myself. I knew I had to silence the worries for the future and concentrate on our time together now. I would embrace every precious moment with the man I loved.
While Rosalynn and I polished off our dinner, Grady sat in his wheelchair at the end of the dock. He wore clothes that didn’t carry the hospital scent—swim trunks and a T-shirt with the logo of the fishing charter business he’d started.
He’d improved since his scare at the facility and was back to using a cannula for supplemental oxygen. The portable tank gave him more mobility to enjoy our family time.
Like with the picnic by the shore that he’d requested. The food was simple, since we’d only just settled in at home. While he rested, I’d thrown together a meal from the hodgepodge in my refrigerator and pantry.
Even after all these years, the prep work filled me with as much excitement as the actual adventure. Joy multiplied while I packed the cooler full of pimento cheese sandwiches, deviled eggs, some boiled peanuts, and, of course, a jug of sweet tea.
There was an art to making authentic Southern sweet tea, but the most important step? Give the sugar plenty of time to dissolve before adding ice. The truly great things in life just couldn’t be rushed.
After supper, Elsie and Rosalynn had parked themselves under a maple tree, talking softly while Elsie practiced plucking out the refrain of another Eagles tune for her grandfather. I appreciated having them close.
Grady looked up at me from his chair, waves lapping at the dock in a gentle rhythm. “Will she be all right? Our little Elsie bug?”
I had a feeling she would, especially now that she was opening up with the details, even when that meant naming her friends and popular athletes at school.
While I didn’t much like the notion of her returning to Sullivan’s Island, where she’d been so betrayed, I trusted the legal experts I’d contacted to fight back against the parents attempting to shield their teens from accountability.
Most of all, I had a newfound confidence in my daughter and granddaughter.
I wouldn’t be keeping my nose out altogether, but I had some breathing room to focus on the man who held my heart in his hands.
“She’s talking more to her mama, as she should be. I hate that she tried dealing with such a scare on her own for even a day.”
He’d asked me about what had been troubling her, so I’d given him the rough outline, mindful not to upset him since I intended to go scorched earth on the extortionist who’d threatened my family in such a vile way.
I would not relent. “She’s on the right path now. She also has Rosalynn and me to help her. You may have noticed that the women in our line can be a bit stubborn.”
“A bit?” He chuckled softly, his voice raspy. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Knowing how strong you are—all of you—puts my spirit at ease.”
“We built a lasting foundation for our family.” Thinking of a world without his physical presence cut clean through me, but I understood he needed reassurance.
“Lillie, my love, we’ve had quite a journey.
I like to believe we’ve left a mark on the world, you and me.
” He gripped the arms of his wheelchair and stood, his breathing pumping heavier with the simple exertion.
One at a time, he toed off his deck shoes.
“And it’s not over yet. Let’s dip our toes in the water together. All of us.”
Like we’d done with Rosalynn after the march. As we’d done countless times over the years, soaking in the last rays of the day.
Kicking off my Crocs, I waved toward the shore, where Elsie and Rosalynn huddled together talking. “Come stick your feet in the water with us.”
Elsie set aside her guitar on the picnic table and started toward us. Rosalynn wheeled her chair alongside on the planked walkway that connected to the pier, Dusty’s nails tapping.
I wrapped my arm around Grady’s waist and together we sank to the edge. He leaned on me more now. But then I’d needed his help before too, all a part of the give-and-take of marriage.
Elsie was already barefoot and Dusty launched into his third favorite cue—tugging off Rosalynn’s shoes. He even lined them up, side by side, although I’d heard that part of the skill had taken him much longer to master. During his younger years, he’d preferred to send them airborne.
His playfulness reminded us that fun and laughter made life worth living.
“Brace,” Rosalynn cued Dusty, and he assisted in her transfer to sitting on the end of the dock.
I fought back the urge to help, but my daughter and Dusty had it well in hand with Elsie nearby. There was a new awareness about Elsie when it came to making sure her mother’s needs were met. Dusty settled close beside Rosalynn, resting his head on her knee.
Things were well under control without my aid.
Grady slid an arm around my shoulders, our feet dangling off the edge as cool water lapped over our toes. An osprey soared low above the surface. A familiar fishing vessel bobbed in the distance, honking a hello to us.
We’d fought hard for our life together, and I didn’t regret a moment of the challenge. Not when those times had produced Rosalynn and Elsie. Our stunningly perfect legacy.
Grady was right. He and I had made a mark on the world.
With our march to the Capitol and beyond.
He’d saved lives through his work. I’d won victories for underdogs with my law practice.
But we took the most pride in the family we’d built and the simple moments of everyday routines and joys.
Each memory was precious. Like sweet tea on a covered porch with a blue ceiling.
“My girls,” he said. He took another breath and turned his whole attention to me. “My girl.”
I answered without hesitation. “Always.”