You didn’t care enough…too bad you broke his heart.
She dropped to her knees, doubled over by the pain.
I’m so sorry, Grandpa. I should have been here. If only I’d known—
“Mom?” Davey was close now, close enough to touch. “What’s the matter?”
She shook her head and opened her arms, enfolding him in her embrace and rocking him from side to side while tears rolled down her cheeks.
Davey hugged her once, tightly, then pulled back. “You’re sad?”
She nodded, sliding first one palm and then the other across her damp skin. “I’ll be all right.”
“Is it Grandpa Cy? Is that why you’re sad?”
Perrie tried for a smile, then pulled him down on her lap, mindless of the snow under her knees. “He would have loved you so much.”
“That’s what Mitch said.”
She blinked at that, surprised at Mitch’s generosity. He would never forgive her, but she would never forgive herself, either. She should have been in touch the first instant she was away from Simon. She should have sensed, somehow, that Grandpa needed her. Should have felt in her bones that something was wrong with the most important man in her life.
Not for the first time, Perrie felt the sick rage of shame for what she’d gotten herself into, for being a blind, naïve fool, for letting Simon dominate her for so long.
“Maybe you could talk to Grandpa Cy like Mitch told me I could still thank my fish. It might not be too late.”
From the mouths of babes. Feeling an odd spurt of hope, she set Davey on his feet, then rose herself and held out her hand. “I think you’re right. Let’s give it a try.”
Hand in hand, they crossed the white powder. The wind blew through the trees, keening a faint moan that could be a dirge. “Grandpa Cy loved these mountains,” she told Davey. “He never tired of their changing seasons, of the different faces they showed, day to day, and year to year. He called this big tree the Old Man of the Mountains. He said that if I would listen closely, I’d hear the stories this tree could tell.”
“Did you ever listen?”
Perrie had to smile. “I tried, but I was never very good at sitting still.”
Davey giggled at that. “Wiggle worm. Just like you call me.”
She squeezed his hand and nodded, then looked out toward the eastern sky. “Old Man of the Mountain, please tell my grandfather that I love him. And that I’m sorry, so sorry. I miss him so much.” When Davey’s small hand squeezed hers and he leaned against her, the tears came again. “Here’s my son Davey, Grandpa. You’d be so proud of him.” Her throat clogged.
But Davey took over for her. “Mitch is taking good care of us, Grandpa Cy. He made me this bear.” Holding his hand out toward the tree, Davey displayed the wooden friend who hadn’t left his side once today. His voice dropped a little. “I think Mitch misses you a lot.”
Perrie sank to the ground and crossed her arms over her stomach, doubling over and rocking her body, trying to find comfort. Desperately, she grasped for steady ground. She shouldn’t have come here with Davey. Her grief hurt too much, was too raw for a child.
With the last vestiges of her will, Perrie clenched her fists and pulled herself together, forcing herself to sit up straight, thinking of what Grandpa had once said. You’re the strong one, Perrie. You have no father, and your mother, well, she’s one of the lost souls. But you, you’re a little speck of flesh but there’s strength in you same as these rugged old mountains. Nothing life can hand you that you can’t take. I wish I could keep you here with me, but you need more of a life than an old hermit can give you. You’ll do fine, just come back to see me. I’ll always be here.
Are you, Grandpa? Are you here?
Perrie tilted her head and looked up the rugged trunk of the Old Man, looked up through the branches that time had not conquered.
And for a moment, she thought she saw her grandfather’s wink in a ray of sunlight arcing down, warming her shoulders.
She drew in a deep breath and bowed her head, pulling Davey close. “Grandpa, I love you.”
Davey whispered beside her, “I love you, too, Grandpa Cy.”
Perrie bit her lip against another rush of tears. But as she lifted her head, she saw an eagle glide just past the other side of the aged spruce. “Look, Davey. I think Grandpa sent us a messenger.” She pointed to the magnificent bird, and together they watched him glide.
“I feel him here, Davey. I think he heard us.”
“I’m sorry you’re sad.”
“It’s all right, sweetie. Sometimes love hurts, but there’s nothing better in this world than knowing love.”