"What did you say?"
"I can't remember the exact words, but I destroyed a few families that day."
"You just told the truth."
"Stop defending me. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to see the look on her husband's face and my twelve-year-old cousin's. You should have seen my grandmother. The thing about revenge is that it can taste sweet at the time, but that sweetness is like a fire, burning a hole in your gut. I have a hole so big a Buick couldn't plug it. I've spent the last ten years blaming that woman for many things that weren't her fault and a few that were. I blamed myself too."
"It wasn't your fault, Evan."
"I'm hoping I can change some of the things that were my fault though."
"How are you going to change that?"
"By doing the only thing I can do. I'm going to apologize for the way I did the things I could control-to my aunt, her ex-husband and my cousin-and my grandparents, too. I have to make amends for that."
"What can I do to help?"
"You already are, angel." He kissed my head. "I don't need you to hold my hand during this one, but I would like to hold you afterward."
"I'll hold you whenever you need it and even when you don't."
We never finished that bottle of wine.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Frisco City, Alabama, only covered four square miles. Evan's grandparents' home was a two-story, white, clapboard house, surrounded by miniature roses leading up to a sweeping front porch.
"This is beautiful," I said.
"Yeah, Grandpa likes to garden."
I gathered our things while Evan looked at the house, smiling wistfully.
He placed an arm around me. "I'll get it later. You ready for this?" he asked, as we approached the door.
"For what?"
"We're gonna be assaulted by at least thirty people and possibly one or two hound dogs in about three, two, one."
The door swung open and a woman with a head of the most beautiful white and brown curls came hurtling toward us. "Evan!" she exclaimed, bear-hugging him.
"Gram."
The rest of the family followed, all hugging Evan. He introduced me to so many people that I lost track of names quickly. I did notice Aunt Lydia wasn't there. They were all happy to see him. His grandma even cried. It was like the prodigal son had returned.
I held out my hand to shake hers. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs.-" I looked back at Evan because I realized I didn't know her last name. I waited for him to answer, but he just shoved his hands in his pocket and smiled. A little help, please? She pulled me into a hug.
"We hug in this house," she proclaimed. "And you call me Grandma Fern. That's my name."
That was the great thing about families. They were all different. They were all the same.
Everyone got quiet as his grandfather walked toward us with slow, shaky steps.
"Joe, get the lead out and come say hello to your grandson," Grandma Fern said.
Evan stepped forward so his grandfather wouldn't have to make the journey. "It's good to see you, sir."
He looked at Evan almost as if he didn't recognize him. Then his face flickered with excitement. "David, I'm glad you're here. I need you to fix the fence."
Evan's face fell. "Grandpa, I'm Evan."
"Oh, Evan, that's right." He looked past Evan toward me. "Who is she?"
"That's my girlfriend, Billie."
I walked forward and held out my hand. "It's nice to meet you."
He nodded, but didn't take my hand. "Where's David? Where's Linda?"
"They both passed, Grandpa."
"Passed what? A test, a kidney stone? What?" The man got agitated with every question, like he knew the answer but didn't want to hear it.
"He gets forgetful sometimes," Grandma Fern said. "He's having a bad spell right now."
"Let's get you back in the house, Grandpa," Evan said, walking him back.
The interior of the house matched the outside. Lace doilies lined tables, checkered curtains graced the windows and porcelain knick-knacks sat on shelves. It was every grandma's house and I instantly felt at home. But it was the smell of butter and frying that lulled me into a state of bliss I'd never known.
"I hope this is righty-tidy for you, Billie," Grandma Fern said as she opened the door to the bedroom.
"It's perfect."
She walked over the windowsill. "There is a window air conditioner but sometimes it stalls out." She turned to Evan. "You know your grandpa-too stubborn to call a repairman and too stingy to buy me a new one."
"Don't worry, Gram. This is fine for us," Evan said.
She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. "Oh no, dear, you're sleeping on the couch."
I clapped my hand over my mouth so I wouldn't giggle at Evan's gaping mouth. "Seriously, Gram?"
"Honey, you don't share a bed in this house unless you share some vows first."
"But … but I'm twenty-eight," he stammered.
"And old enough to know you shouldn't rob a sweet girl of her virtue. Now come and eat."
And eat we did. There were things I'd never eaten before, like fried okra. Things I'd never want to eat again, like pickled herring. Things I wanted to eat every day after that, like sweet potato pie.
Somehow, we'd gotten split up. I sat on the opposite side of the room with his grandfather. We talked for a while and played checkers, the bigger hound dog, Rufus, curled on the floor beside us. My pride stung a little that Grandpa Joe beat me each time. I glanced at Evan, who sat with his grandmother having what appeared to be a very deep conversation. There were a sea of people between us-the lively sounds of chatter and kids playing was oddly relaxing. I caught him looking over at me too, grinning softly.
Evan took out his phone and pointed to it. My phone buzzed a second later with a new WhatsApp message.
Evan: My grandpa's not doing so well
Billie: I don't know-he's kicking my ass at checkers
Evan: He used to play chess. He doesn't know who I am.
Billie: He has dementia. It's not because you haven't been around.
Evan: How do you know that?
Billie: I know someone who has it. Plus, your grandma told me.
"Are you cheating?" Grandpa Joe asked. "Is someone giving you the moves?"
"Oh no, sir. And if they were, I wouldn't take their advice, because you keep winning. I'm just texting your grandson."
I placed my phone next to me, noticing his hands. "Your hands are cut." They were tiny cuts, not very discernible or dangerous, but I noticed them.
He held his hands palm up, a twinkle in his eyes. "From the roses. I can still work the roses. Did you see them?"
"They're lovely, but you should wear gloves."
"That's what my wife says."
"She's a smart woman."
"I cultivated a hybrid rose once."
I nodded with the change of subject. My conversations with Mrs. Garcia weren't much different. "What did you name it?"
His face took on a childish glee that had me matching his expression. "Fern."
Aww, he named it for his wife.
"It was a fiery orange color, but it didn't do so well. You shouldn't name a rose after another plant … people got confused."
"I'm sure it was as beautiful as the woman it was named for."
"Close, but there is no comparison. The roses remind me of her. Do you know why?"
"Because of their beauty."
"That's a good guess and she is a beauty, but no."
"Because of their scent?"
He shook his head.
"Because they are complicated and have layers."
He patted my hand, a gesture of warmth with a hint of annoyance. "Young lady, I would be happy to tell you, except you seem to enjoy guessing."
"Please tell me."
"The thorns. Do you understand?"
"Not really. Is that a compliment?"
"Oh yes, dear. You see, I'm a stubborn man and if there's one thing a man like me needs, it's a thorn in his side. She's always been that for me."
His explanation didn't alleviate my confusion. Thankfully, he continued on, "She pushed me forward when I lost my confidence. She held me back when I went too far. Mostly she just walked beside me when I needed a friend. So, young lady, that's why I tend to the roses with my bare hands. It lets me feel the thorns. It helps me to remember her." He held up his hands again. I was wrong. He hadn't changed the subject.
"That's very sweet."
"Sweet nothing, it's the truth. Every stubborn man needs a woman who's prepared to be a thorn." He jerked his head toward the other side of the room. "Some more than others."
My phone buzzed again with a message from Evan. He was curious what had his grandpa talking up a storm. I responded that his grandfather was giving me valuable life advice that I planned to heed.