Slipperless Series (Book #4)(21)

“Fiona, why aren’t you eating my dear?”

Her words barely reached the level of a whisper now as she spoke. I had to sit close so as not to make her strain.

“Um,” I replied. “I’m just really not hungry right now.”

I could tell part of her wanted to lecture me about all the things wrong with skipping a meal, but overcome by exhaustion, she seemed to have thought better of it.

Holding my fork between my thumb and forefinger, I continued to scoot what remained of my meal around on the plate with thoughtless strokes. Just then, my grandmother closed her eyes and let out an exhausted breath.

I turned my head towards her as she sputtered air from between her lips.

“Are you okay, Grandmother?”

With her eyes closed, she nodded. She remained silent for several seconds and then without lifting her head, she opened them once more and looked at me.

“Fiona, did I ever tell you about the first time I met your father?”

I shook my head as I looked at her. “No.”

My grandmother closed her eyes again and began to shake her head back and forth with an easy rhythm on the pillow.

“I didn’t like that boy,” she grumbled. “Not one bit.”

An unexpected smile came to my lips. “Why not?”

Her head rocked back and forth once or twice. She stopped and flipped her eyes open, looking at me again.

“In a word… Arrogant, cocky, and irritating.”

I placed my fork down on the plate with a gentle clink and looked at her. Chuckling, I replied, “That’s three words, Grandmother.”

“Is it?” she replied with a soft laugh. “Well, I suppose at this point math is the least of my problems.”

I emitted a small laugh in return. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

I sat there in silence for a moment, assuming she’d continue with her story. When she didn’t, I prodded her to do so with a question.

“So it sounds like you changed your mind about him?”

With her eyes still closed, she nodded her head.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“It was your grandfather,” she mumbled, barely awake any longer. “He reminded me my own mother said the same thing about him for years. Anyway, your father pursued your mother relentlessly for months, until one day, he showed up at our doorstep with five dozen white lilies.”

I covered my mouth at the thought of it. “Oh, my God.”

She smiled and nodded a bit before continuing.

“He told me that he wanted me to give him a chance and nothing more. I asked him what he would do if I refused.”

I leaned in, prodding her. “What did he say?”

She shrugged her shoulders with a nonchalant air. “He told me he would pursue your mother anyway.”

“Wow,” I replied. “That took some guts.”

“It did,” she replied. “As much as it surprised me, I felt as if he had the guts to do that, he’d be able to treat your mother right and look after her. I respected it.”

I nodded in silence as she paused for a moment.

“And then, he asked me if I wouldn’t mind if they had their date in the backyard of our house.”

I wrinkled my brow. “In the backyard? What kind of date is that?”

“Well,” she said, as she rolled her head on the pillow and looked at me. “Apparently, he’d spent his entire paycheck on the flowers he’d bought for me.”

I smiled and shook my head.

“Anyway, I made them sandwiches and the rest—as they say—is history.”

Soon after she finished her story, my grandmother drifted off to sleep. As she did, I couldn’t help but notice the parallels between my father and Gabe.

Each of them men determined to get what they wanted.

Had she told me that story intentionally? After all, she didn’t know anything about Gabe, other than the little bit I’d shared. The only way to know for sure would be to wake her up and ask her. But as I looked at her, resting peacefully for the first time in days, I decided against it. Not long afterward, I pulled my legs up to my chest, hugged them close, and drifted off to sleep as well.

When I awoke the next morning, I flipped my eyes open and immediately reached towards my neck. A couple of nights in a row of sleeping draped across a haphazard arrangement of chairs was beginning to take its toll.

“Ahhhh,” I moaned, as I massaged the location of the pain.

Still rubbing myself, I turned my head and glanced in the direction of my grandmother’s bed. Still sleeping, she appeared more comfortable than she had in a long time. I eased myself into a seated position for a moment just before I stood up. After a brief stretch, I made my way towards her.

Streaks of early morning sunlight shined upon her face. It felt good to see her get some well-deserved rest after the past couple of weeks. Still not fully awake myself, I reached up and rubbed my eyes, wiping my palms across my face and attempting to bring myself back to full consciousness. With a final push of my hands through my hair, I blinked my eyes several times in rapid succession as I looked down at her.