by Jill Blake
“I don’t recall that.”
“Then it’s a good thing I went with you. Because I distinctly remember him saying that.”
Ruth humphed. “Fine. But just because I can’t go, I don’t see why you can’t.”
“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have Maria. You go, and make sure to get lots of pictures.”
Grace shook her head. “I’ve had enough of New York for a while.”
“Grace, you listen to me. You worked hard for this. You deserve to have your accomplishments recognized.”
“What, an unrestricted medical license isn’t enough?”
Ruth ignored her sarcasm. “I know the last few years haven’t been easy for you. But Harry is gone. The press is off your back, finally. You should go. Have fun, celebrate, then come back. Don’t let the past dictate your future.”
Grace frowned. Her grandmother was telling her to let go of the past? She opened her mouth to call Ruth on the double standard, then hesitated. Did she really want to fight about this now?
In the end, Ruth forced the issue. “Grace, you know I only want what’s best for you. That’s all your grandfather and I have ever wanted.”
Well, that clinched it. “If I go to New York,” she said, “it’s not going to be because you want me to. And it’s certainly not so I can participate in some pretentious ritual. It will be because I decide to go there, so that I can visit my father.”
“I see.” Ruth’s expression remained calm, and her tone betrayed no hint of surprise. “Well, I suppose that’s as good a reason as any.”
Not quite the response Grace expected. She wasn’t sure what she wanted her grandmother to say, but a bit more demonstrable emotion would have been welcome. Maybe even an acknowledgment that she and Grace’s grandfather had been wrong to perpetrate such a massive lie that it had not only separated Grace from her father for so many years, but had actually kept Grace from even knowing that she had a father.
On returning to California a little over a month ago, Grace realized how old and frail her grandmother had become. And so she decided to put aside her resentment, burying it alongside a whole mess of other unresolved feelings. But now that the issue was out in the open, she felt a resurgence of the old anger.
“Dad was a colonel when he retired from the Air Force, did you know that?” The words spewed forth, as unstoppable as a tsunami after an earthquake. “He had a long and successful career in the military, despite what you and Grandfather threatened him with. And he’s made a brilliant second career for himself as an engineering executive.”
Ruth nodded. “Good for him.”
“He’s happily married, too.”
“Really?”
“Yes. His partner’s name is Peter, and he’s a lovely man.” Grace paused. Might as well go for broke. “I’d like for them to visit me here.”
This time, Ruth took longer to reply. “Your grandfather was a good man, Grace. He very much regretted the rift between you.”
“It was his own fault. He was completely out of line, calling Dad names. As if being gay is some moral failing. Or crime.”
“Times were different. You have to make allowances. Your grandfather loved you. He wanted to protect you.”
“From what? From my own father? From a man who was every bit as good and upstanding as Grandfather himself?”
“He loved you, Grace. We both did. We didn’t want to lose you, like we lost your mother.”
“Fat lot of good that did. He lost me anyway because of his stubbornness.”
“I know.” Ruth sighed. “You inherited some of that stubbornness yourself.”
Grace started to refute that, but innate honesty forced her to back down. “Maybe.”
“Like I said, don’t let the past dictate your future.” Ruth smoothed the napkin on her lap. “If you want your father to visit, that’s fine. He can walk you down the aisle, seeing as I’m still stuck with this bloody walker and can’t do the honors.”
“What?” She wasn’t sure which statement shocked her more—her grandmother’s concession about having Grace’s father visit, or the casual mention of walking down the aisle.
“Your young man came by. Said you were getting married. Caught me quite unprepared, I must admit.”
“He told you what? When was this?”
“Earlier today. While you were out running.”
“I can’t believe it.”
Ruth raised an eyebrow. “I take it you haven’t exactly ironed out the details?”
Grace was going to kill him. But for the moment, she managed to curve her lips into the semblance of a smile. “Something like that,” she said.
###
Thinking about the conversation later, Grace wondered if her grandmother was onto something. Was she allowing the past to dictate her future?
She turned on the shower and peeled off her clothing. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of herself in the vanity mirror. For the first time in what seemed like months, she didn’t turn away. Instead, she stopped and stared at her reflection.
She had gained some weight since moving back to L.A. Not a lot, but enough to soften the sharp angles and fill in some of the hollows. Her skin looked healthier, too. A bit of color had replaced the pasty white of East coast winters.
No doubt about it, returning to California had been good for her. She was eating more regularly and exercising nearly every day. And despite some late nights and early mornings, courtesy of a certain arrogant, frustrating, indefatigable male, she felt more rested than she had in a long time.
She stepped into the shower and closed her eyes beneath the hot spray, thinking how far she’d come since those last dark days in New York. Not just physically and emotionally, but also in terms of perspective. Instead of simply reacting to forces beyond her control, she felt like she was finally taking charge of her life: clearing out the toxic waste that had accumulated over time, figuring out how to help others without being sucked under herself, planning for the future with a renewed sense of optimism.
If she were to be completely honest with herself—putting aside for the moment her knee-jerk response to Logan’s irritating high-handedness—she had to admit that a large part of her future plans did revolve around Logan. He’d gone from being a source of resentment to a source of strength.
Because he was secure in his own skin, he didn’t feel the need to constantly prove himself by putting her down, the way Harry had. On the contrary, Logan’s self-confidence allowed him to back off when needed, so she could take the lead.
And he’d come a long way from the egotistical young man she’d left behind. She couldn’t imagine the old Logan holding her while she blubbered all over his shirt, or asking non-judgmental questions and listening sympathetically to her response. He was far more understanding these days, as patient in dealing with human foibles now as he had been in his academic pursuits in the past.
That didn’t mean life with Logan would be perfect. He still suffered from the infuriating tendency to dismiss her objections when he thought it was for her own good. The nerve of him, telling her grandmother that they were getting married, as if it were all decided. She’d definitely read him the riot act over that.
And she’d take as much time as she needed to think things through. Just because Logan had acted precipitously didn’t mean she had to. Nor did it mean she would dig in her heels even further just to teach him a lesson. Passive-aggressive behavior had no place in a loving, healthy relationship—and going forward, that was the only kind of relationship she was willing to have.
No doubt about it, there would be plenty of disagreements in their future. That was inevitable when two strong-minded people came together. But as long as they were both willing to talk things through, they’d be able to sort out their differences and make it work.
After all, they had three things going for them. Experience. Mutual respect. And above all, love.
###
&nb
sp; Later that night, Grace reread the invitation from her residency program. She traced a finger over the elegant script addressed to Dr. Grace King and Guest.
She sat for a long time, thinking.
Then she pulled out her laptop.
It was a simple thing to buy a round-trip plane ticket. She hesitated, then bought a second ticket. Just in case.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Grace’s father was of average height, but with broad shoulders and an upright posture that even after years out of uniform screamed military background. His partner, Peter, was taller, with a receding hairline and an easy smile. He ran a catering company that did a brisk business in weddings and Bar Mitzvahs.
Logan glanced around the comfortably appointed living room, his gaze snagging on a series of framed photographs on the wall of a younger version of Grace.
Joe sat in an armchair across from him, nursing a glass of scotch. From the kitchen, which opened off of the adjacent dining room, Logan could hear Grace’s laughter blending with Peter’s mellow tones. Whatever they were preparing together for dinner, it sounded like they were having fun.
The graduation ceremony had taken place yesterday. As Logan watched Grace walk across the temporary stage to accept a ceremonial scroll marking the completion of her residency training, he felt his chest tighten. God, he loved this woman.
He raised his phone and snapped a picture of her as she made her way through the reception line, shaking hands with faculty members and accepting congratulations. He took another photo of her glowing face as she looked into the audience and smiled directly at him.
Now, sitting in the living room of her father’s Chelsea brownstone, Logan pulled out his iPhone to share the moment with the man he hoped would be his future father-in-law.
Joe stared at the photos for a long time. “She looks just like her mother,” he finally said, handing the phone back. “Luckily, Grace is a lot stronger than her mother. Stronger than either of her parents, for that matter.”
Logan wasn’t sure how to respond.
Joe’s weathered face creased in a smile. “That’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad you called. Grace talked a lot about you early on, you know. When she first moved here after college.”
“I’m afraid to think what she might have said.”
Joe waved a dismissive hand. “Water under the bridge. The important thing is that you’re here now. Together.”
Logan had to admit that was something of a miracle. How often did a man get a second chance at love? He sure as hell wasn’t going to mess it up this time.
The swinging door from the kitchen opened. Grace backed into the dining room, carrying a large serving platter.
Logan hurried over to help.
“Careful,” she said. “It’s heavy.”
He adjusted his hold. “I’ve got it.”
And then, because he couldn’t resist, he leaned over the platter and kissed her.
She smiled against his lips. “What was that for?”
“I love you.”
She shook her head and stepped back. “You’re nuts.”
“Is that any way to speak to your future husband?”
“I haven’t agreed to marry you.”
“But you will.”
Instead of replying, she leaned in to kiss him again.
Then she drew back. Her grin warmed his heart.
When he turned to carry the platter to the table, he saw that Joe had followed him to the dining room. Judging by his amused expression, he had witnessed the exchange.
Logan set the food down. “She’ll come around. Eventually.”
“I have no doubt about that,” Joe chuckled. “No doubt at all.”
EPILOGUE
Three Years Later…
Grace lugged the groceries into the kitchen and put away the perishables. One of the things she loved best about the three-bedroom condo she and Logan had moved into shortly after their wedding was the large kitchen. It was a chef’s dream, equipped with state of the art appliances, including a six-burner gas range, double electrical oven, separate professional-grade stainless steel refrigerator and freezer units, and massive granite counters that could easily accommodate several line cooks prepping a meal.
As she rinsed, trimmed the stems, and cut the eggplant lengthwise into quarter-inch sized slices, Grace glanced at the clock. She had about half an hour before Logan was due home. Plenty of time to get things in the oven, set the table, and slip into something more comfortable.
It was rare that she beat Logan home. Most of the time, he was already there by the time she walked through the door, dinner cooked and ready to serve. She’d taught him how to prepare some basic dishes, much to the amazement and delight of his sister Eva, who had despaired of either of her siblings ever learning their way around the kitchen.
But today Grace had made special arrangements for coverage at the clinic. It had taken a while to cut through all the bureaucratic red tape to get things up and running. Nearly a year, in fact, before she was able to fully staff the place. Now she had a full roster of faculty who took turns supervising residents there, as well as volunteer physicians from the community who donated their time and expertise to care for the women and children seeking help at the non-profit’s shelters. She had even managed to secure funding for additional administrative personnel, which freed her up to spend more time treating patients and overseeing the research project for which she had recently gotten a hefty grant from the National Institute of Mental Health.
She salted and lightly fried the eggplant, arranging the cooked slices on paper towels along the counter. As she mixed the filling—ricotta, mozzarella, chopped basil, freshly ground black pepper—the phone rang.
“How’s my girl?”
“Hi, Dad.” She tucked the receiver between her ear and shoulder and emptied a container of peeled crushed tomatoes into a glass casserole dish. “How are you doing?”
“Peter and I are driving down from San Francisco, stopping for a few days in Napa. What’s the name of that winery you and Logan like so much?”
“Chappellet.”
“Right, that’s the one. Peter’s planning to do the rounds and order a bunch of cases for shipping back home. You want us to get some for you and Logan?”
She wasn’t going to be drinking for a while, but Logan might want some wine to share with visitors. “A couple bottles of the Cab would be lovely, thanks. We can open it when you guys get here.”
“Excellent. Ruth ordered a few cases, too. Plus the Blanc de Noirs from Schramsberg. Sounds like she’s planning to do some more entertaining.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Grace laughed. Somehow, her father and grandmother had managed to make peace over the last couple years. These days, he and Peter were regular visitors to Los Angeles, and each time they stayed with Ruth. “Grandma’s become the queen bee of Santa Monica’s country club set ever since the wedding.”
Ruth had recovered from her hip surgery in time to shuffle around the dance floor with her grandson-in-law at the reception. She opened up her house for the occasion, and enjoyed all the ensuing hoopla so much that she changed her mind about moving. Now she regularly hosted events for family, friends, and her favorite charities.
“Where else would I find a ballroom big enough for something like this?” she asked Grace, during a fundraiser Grace had talked her into having for the non-profit clinic.
It was true. As the Santa Monica Magazine society reporter pointed out in her coverage of the event, they didn’t build houses like this anymore.
After Grace confirmed with her father which day he and Peter planned to come for dinner, she hung up and resumed stuffing the eggplant with seasoned ricotta mixture. Setting the oven timer for thirty minutes, she turned her attention to making a quick salad.
She was going to miss this kitchen when they upgraded to a house with a yard. Logan had been pointing out property listings online for at least half a year. She hadn’t agreed to g
o to any open houses just yet, but she would. Eventually.
Just as she’d agreed to marry Logan—because, in the end, it came down to one thing. She loved and trusted him, and she couldn’t imagine her future without him.
As for his push to buy a house, it went hand-in-hand with his latest campaign to convince Grace that they were ready for kids. He had latched onto her grandmother’s argument that they weren’t getting any younger, then tacked on his own talking points. Like the fact that he now had tenure, which would allow him the flexibility of schedule to work from home several days a week.
“I’ll be a hands-on dad,” he promised, his fingers exploring her sensitized skin as his pelvis rocked against her. “On call day and night.”
She’d lost the conversational thread at that point, but Logan made sure to bring up the topic again, when they were less preoccupied.
“I’ll take paternity leave,” he promised. “Three months off the moment the baby is born.”
“Mm-hm.”
“And I don’t teach in the summer, so that’s another three months. Plus I’m swimming in funding these days. I could probably buy myself out of teaching for another quarter.”
“Really?”
“Why not? There’s already a precedent for that in the bioengineering department. I can talk to the dean about it.”
All Grace had to do was agree to pop out a kid—or two, or three.
“The more, the merrier,” Logan said. “We’ve already got built-in babysitters.”
That was certainly true. Logan’s nephew Ben, who was now almost twelve, had already proven himself on that score. Once he’d gotten over the “ick” factor of his mom getting pregnant at the advanced age of thirty-five, he was more than happy to help out with his baby brother. A baby cousin added to the mix ought to be a breeze.
Then there was Logan’s sister Eva and her new husband, Max—who happened to be an emergency room physician, as well as a successful author of medical thrillers. Who better to have on hand, Logan pointed out, than an ER doc who could diagnose, treat, and distract you from the boo-boos at the same time?
