by Laura Wright
“Hello?”
“Hey, Uncle Grant, it’s Ford.”
Grant sobered instantly when he heard the young man’s voice. He’d wanted to wait until morning to tell Ford and Abigail about their mother, until he’d gathered his thoughts and his courage before calling, but providence had intervened once again.
With a quick wave, and a few other hand gestures at Cole and Eli designed to let them know that this was an important call and he’d see them tomorrow, Grant returned to Ford. “How are you, son? Everything all right?”
“Sure.”
“And Kerry?”
“She’s great.”
“Good, good, and Abby?”
There was a brief moment of silence, and Grant’s chest began to tighten. But Ford quickly said, “That’s why I called actually—”
“She’s okay, isn’t she? You’re taking good care of her, right? Until I can get there, and help welcome those babies into the family?”
“Well, I don’t think you’ll be able to get here soon enough for that.” Ford chuckled. “Yep, you’re a little too late, Uncle Grant.”
“What?” Even Ford’s laughter couldn’t ease the knot of tension running through Grant.
“Abby had the babies an hour ago.”
“An hour…but, it’s a month too soon.”
“I wish I could’ve called sooner, but everything happened so fast. Her water broke and, well, things just took off from there, and she ended up having an emergency C-section.”
“Emergency?” Grant fairly shouted into the phone. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. I swear. She’s ecstatic actually.”
“And the babies?”
“Beautiful, crying, eating, pooping—the usual. Six pounds, one ounce and six pounds, five ounces respectfully. She’s just over the moon and so is Russ.” Ford took a breath, and Grant could practically hear him smiling. “I finally know what it’s like to be an uncle.”
The news filled Grant with mixed emotions. He was beyond relieved that Abby was okay, thrilled that the babies had been born healthy, but a deep sense of grief tugged at his gut.
“Uncle Grant?”
Grant shook his head, muttered, “I should’ve been there.”
“You were there.” Ford sighed. “You really were. In everything you taught us. Abby was so calm, so levelheaded when the docs came to tell her they wanted to take the babies out right away—and we all knew that was your influence. You’re where you need to be right now, where you have to be. You’ll have plenty of time to see the babies when you can come home.”
“Well, it looks like I can come home soon.”
“What?” Ford sounded stunned.
“There’s something I have to tell you, Ford. And it’s no cherry on the top of the sundae you’ve been eating today.”
“Sounds serious.”
“It is. It’s about your…it’s about, Grace.”
For the next five minutes, Ford listened with patience and coolheadedness. As Grant laid out the terms of the blackmail and Sally Simple and his conversation with Grace in jail, Ford made no sound—and for about thirty seconds after Grant had finished. Then, in a strong, resolute voice, he said, “I’m glad this is all said and done. Everything—the case and the mystery over where Grace Ashton was and who she really is.”
“I’m sorry this had to happen,” Grant said tightly.
“I’m not. You were Mom and Dad to us, Grant—and I know Abby feels the same—you gave up everything for us and we love you for it. We’re the better because of you, don’t ever think otherwise.”
Grant’s throat went tight, and he didn’t want Ford to hear the emotion in his voice, so he said nothing.
Ford continued, “But we want you to have what you gave us and what you made us believe we deserved all these years.”
Grant swallowed tightly, forced out a gruff, “What’s that, son?”
“Love.”
“I have love.”
“And you’ll always have it, but I’m talking about the kind I have with Kerry, and the kind Abby has with Russ.” Ford’s voice lowered. “If you’re ever lucky enough to come across it, don’t let it go. Don’t ever let it go.”
When Grant hung up the phone a moment later, he was dead sober. And as he cleaned up the broken glass on the porch, he thought about what everyone had said tonight, about what his life had been like before he’d come to Napa, about Ford and Abby and the babies, about his mother, about Jack and Anna, and what he really wanted.
He thought about choices.
And with a full heart, he made his.
Thirteen
Anna woke up disoriented, with a major pain in her neck and shoulders.
In the white crib before her, Jack sat straight up in bed, looked directly at her and said, “Mama?”
His voice was so sweet and sleepy, her throat tightened with love. “Morning, baby.”
Jack grabbed his bear and started babbling to it, and Anna stretched and rubbed her eyes. It took a moment for the morning fog in her brain to clear, but when it did, she looked around and frowned. She’d fallen asleep in Jack’s room—in a hard-backed chair, no less, sometime after midnight.
The previous evening came back in a rush; Grant, pushing and prodding to hear her feelings, as if he’d wanted to know exactly where she stood, as if he’d wanted to end everything; Grace, his time in Napa and their affair in one night. And how she’d calmly and coolly told him to make that choice, make any choice, as she was done fighting for him.
Anna leaned back in her chair and sighed. She was pretty confident that her hopes for a future with Grant were over, but that certainly didn’t mean she’d be able to eradicate him from her mind anytime soon. In fact, she was certain she’d dreamed about him last night—that wonderful dream that had always counteracted the horrible nightmare where Spencer Ashton tried to take her baby away. The one about her and Grant and Jack waking up on Christmas morning together, sharing presents and kisses and ideas for New Year’s Day.
On second thought, maybe that was the tortured dream because it was never coming true.
Just then, Anna jumped and Jack dropped his bear as the sound of someone rapping obnoxiously on the door reverberated off the walls. Anna shifted her focus back to her baby.
“Mama?” Jack said, his green eyes wide.
Anna went to him and lifted him out of his crib and into her arms. “We’d better go see who’s at the door before they huff and puff and blow the house down.” And as she walked she gave him a big kiss on his belly—making him giggle madly.
Just as she reached the door and grabbed the handle, she heard Grant’s voice outside, bellowing at the top of his lungs, “Wake up! Wake up, sleepyheads!”
Anna’s heart dropped to the floor, but she held tight to her baby and swung the door wide. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“It’s seven o’clock.”
“That’s right. What in the world are you doing—”
He shook his head. “No questions, Anna.”
She just stared at him. His hair was wet, like he’d showered and ran over here, and he looked a little tired. But he was still as rugged and as handsome as ever in his blue plaid shirt and jeans, handsome enough to make her heart drop again—or maybe that was due to the fact that she loved him so much.
“Hi, Gwant,” Jack said sleepily, holding his arms out for Grant.
With a wide smile, Grant took Jack from Anna and ruffled the boy’s mussed hair. “How are you doing this morning, Jack?”
“Hungry,” Jack said.
“Well, how about we all go out for breakfast?”
Anna quickly said, “I don’t think so. We have a lot to do today.” She wasn’t about to revert back to their comfortable little romance. Her heart couldn’t take any more breaks.
“It’s just breakfast, Anna,” Grant said. “Eggs, bacon, toast. Nothing long-term.”
Her eyes went hot, and her throat went tight. He wasn’t talking about them,
but he might as well have been.
“Where go?” Jack said, touching Grant’s wet hair with interest.
Grant looked at Anna. “It’s a new place, but I know you’re both going to love it.”
“Yum, yum, yum,” Jack shouted, trying to jump up in Grant’s arms.
“I can fix you some eggs here, Jack,” Anna said, knowing her words were going to be lost on the boy now that his big, fun brother was around.
“Will you tell your mommy that we’re going for a ride?” Grant whispered in the boy’s ear.
Jack grinned at her and shouted, “Ride, Mama. Eat, Mama.”
Grant laughed.
“But we’re not dressed,” Anna began, looking down at her white cotton pajama top and bottom.
“So what?” Grant said, smiling.
She stared at him, at the two of them actually. Her son looked happy and Grant looked at home holding him as he watched her.
“Maybe you’d like to take Jack?” Anna suggested. “Have a little boy time?”
“No.” Grant looked directly at her, his gaze serious now. “I want you there. And I think you know me well enough to know I won’t take no for an answer.”
“No, no, no,” Jack said, then laughed uproariously.
“C’mon, Anna,” Grant said, his mouth turning up at the corners in an easy smile. “Do this for me?”
The man made her weak. He was acting crazy and juvenile, but the sad fact was she’d go anywhere with him if he asked her. She loved him that much. But no matter what happened today, all that she’d said last night still stood.
He would have to make a choice—and soon.
Grant lifted Jack in the air and said, “What do you say, Jack?”
“Go ride, Mama. Go ride.”
Anna rolled her eyes at them.
“It’s chilly this morning,” Grant said, so you’ll both need a coat. And shoes, of course.”
“Of course,” Anna said with an apprehensive chuckle.
So while Grant helped Jack on with his sweater jacket, Anna slipped into her coat. “I’m hungry, too,” she said, following Grant and Jack out the door. “I hope this place doesn’t have a dress code.”
“I assure you it doesn’t,” Grant said with far too much mystery.
The drive was a short one. Down the main drag a few miles, up a country lane or two and into the driveway of the house that Anna quickly realized had been the location of her Christmas morning dream.
Her heart twisted painfully as they came to a halt in front of the magnificent red farmhouse Grant had brought her to on their date night. It sat on three acres of beauty, of warmth and welcome, with spectacular views of rolling hills and vineyards—views she hadn’t been able to see in the bleak light of the moon the other night. But today, this morning, with the cool November sun shining down on them, Anna saw the house well and knew that someone would make it a perfect home someday.
As they got out of the car, as Grant retrieved Jack from his car seat, Anna’s gaze moved from the sweet stone pathway to the white front door to several thick fingers of ivy, scaling the face of the house all the way up to the second-floor windows. It was a magical place, where Anna felt comfortable, and it held wonderful memories within its sturdy walls and chipped paint. Memories she would hold on to forever.
With Jack settled snugly in Grant’s arms, Anna turned to them, her throat tight with emotion. “What are we doing here?”
“I wanted to show Jack the house,” Grant said, his gaze quietly intense.
“I thought we were going for breakfast.”
“We are.” He motioned for her to follow him as he walked around the side of the house, just as they had the night of their date. The stone steps felt like thick mud as she went, nervous energy making her legs feel unsteady. She didn’t understand any of this, didn’t want more visits to a house that she’d never live in, only dream about.
And she didn’t want to feel in love and intimate and playful with a man who would never be hers.
Grant stopped just feet from the brick patio and pointed over to a large round table.
“Here we are,” he announced.
Sun filtered through the wood canopy onto a table, beautifully dressed for a meal in blue checked tablecloth, white china, sparkling crystal glasses. Anna noticed that the glasses were filled with orange juice and water and there were several steaming chafing dishes on a sideboard.
“I had a little help with the cooking, but I did set the table on my own,” Grant said beside her.
Anna’s gaze rested on the three place settings. There were two chairs and a very sweet, old-fashioned wood high chair drawn up to the table as though it had always meant to be set that way.
The whole scene was so odd. Fine linens and china juxtaposed against a backyard still slightly overgrown and vastly undernourished.
“Mama!” Jack exclaimed from Grant’s arms.
Startled, Anna asked, “What is it, baby?”
“Turtle! Turtle!”
Anna looked in the direction that her child was pointing and saw a turtle-shaped sandbox set up on the grass, several feet away from the deck. It was clearly new, with fresh pale sand and lots of brightly colored buckets and shovels inside.
Jack squealed, yelled, “Turtle!” once more, then wriggled out of Grant’s arms, ran over to it and finagled his way inside, quickly forgetting how hungry he had been a moment ago.
“What’s wrong?” Grant asked her.
“Are you kidding?” she said, watching her son play gleefully with a yellow bucket and shovel.
“No.”
“I’m thoroughly confused.”
“You don’t like it here?”
Though the sun was gaining warmth, she pulled her coat closer around herself. “Of course I like it here. Who wouldn’t? But what does my opinion matter?”
“It matters to me,” Grant said.
“Why?”
“Because I bought this place.”
Her head whipped around so fast, her neck—which had stopped aching in the car—pulled with pain. “You did what?”
“I bought it.” He sounded perfectly calm, perfectly at ease.
“When?”
“This morning. The agent was half asleep, but he perked right up when I said I was ready to buy.”
She shook her head as her insides contracted with tension. “So, what? You’re going to come out here to visit regularly?”
“A little more than that.”
She managed a soft, “Well, that’s great, Grant.”
He nodded in agreement. “I’d like to go back to Nebraska for part of the winter, see my children, and my two new grandkids.”
“What?”
He nodded, grinned. “Abby had her babies early.” Seeing the anxious expression on Anna’s face, he put his hands on her shoulders. “She’s fine, great, and so are the babies. But I want to see for myself, you know?”
“Of course. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
Anna tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her belly. He had made his choice—it just wasn’t her. “Wow. Babies and a new house. I’m really happy for you, Grant.” And the truth of it was, she was happy for him—she only wanted the best for him and she always would.
“Don’t be happy for me.” He lifted his hands to her face, let his fingers dip into her hair. “Be happy for us.”
“Us?” The word stung her heart, and she could barely look at him, but he wouldn’t allow her reluctant retreat. He practically forced her gaze to his.
“You and me and Jack,” he said solidly.
Around them, a lovely breeze blew, lifting the remaining leaves on the oaks and maples toward the sky, then gently ushering them back down again. “Grant, what are you saying?”
“Sweetheart, this is our house. I want us to live here together. You and me and Jack. As a family.”
Anna could barely breathe. She could barely contain the hope that was flooding her mind and heart and soul. A family. Something she
hadn’t had in so long. And with Grant, the man she adored with everything that was in her.
If she was dreaming, she never wanted to wake up.
“What about Ford and Abby and the babies?” she said with concern. “Won’t you want to be—”
“I’ll be there,” Grant assured her. “We’ll all go back to Nebraska for part of the winter. Spend a good long time.”
“See the fireplace in the kitchen?”
“We’ll sit by it and watch the snow fall.”
She nodded. “I’d like that.”
“And I’d like Jack to see his roots, and for you to see the farmhouse I grew up in.”
Tears pricked hotly behind her eyes. “You know something? I don’t think that’s where you grew up, Grant. Not really.”
He raised a brow at her, and she smiled through the tears that begun to fall. “Maybe it was this house you grew up in.”
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “Maybe so, sweetheart.” He bent his head, kissed first one eye, then the next. “I love you so much. You’ve made me whole again, do you know that?” He let his forehead fall gently against hers. “You’ve helped me realize that I wasn’t living at all. I was just existing.”
“I love you, Grant.”
“Marry me, Anna?”
Her heart contracted and she looked up. “Really?”
“Oh, yeah.” He dipped his head and covered her mouth with his own. He tasted so sweet, so right, and she hoped he’d never let her go. As if he’d heard her wish, his arms tightened around her, and his kiss turned hot and needy. She answered his silent cry, pressed her body closer, moaned into his mouth.
It was several minutes later when they finally came up for air, but when they did, Grant whispered, her lips just inches from his own, “Was that a yes?”
She smiled and nipped at his lower lip. “That was an absolutely.”
“Hi, Mama. Hi, Gwant.”
Looking at each other, Grant and Anna burst out laughing. Then they looked over at the baby and said in unison, “Hi, Jack.”
“No go?” Jack said very seriously, holding up his bucket of sand. “Stay turtle?”
Grant turned to Anna, and with a quirk of a smile said, “No go?”
She laughed. “No go.”
