He releases me, and I stand. “Ornery as ever. Good thing Lincoln brought her some entertainment earlier.”
I glance behind me, and Lincoln shrugs, both hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“She’s going to be so excited to see you,” Dad tells me, and I reach for the silver knob. I hesitate a moment and take a deep breath before pushing inside.
A wide smile splits my gram’s face as she looks up from her book, but as quickly as it appears, it falls to a pout. “Macey! I told your dad not to call you.”
Seeing her lying there, wires connected to her, an oxygen tube beneath her nose is too much, and I lose it. My throat tightens painfully, and I choke down a sob, pressing both hands to my nose.
“Honey, stop that. I’m fine.” She holds both arms open wide for me, and I rush to her, sitting on the bed and wrapping both arms around her the best I can. “Shhh, I’m fine. Just a little fall.”
I’ve never been able to fake it in front of Gram. She knows me too well. “I’m sorry. I thought I’d be fine,” I cry into her shoulder, inhaling the scent of whatever fabric cleaner the hospital has used on her gown.
“It’s okay, honey-bug.” She runs a hand up and down my back, the movement so similar to the many times she held me after my mother bailed.
I sniffle and lean back, taking a deep breath as I do. “I’m better,” I say. “Now, let’s talk about how you weren’t going to have Dad call me? What the crap, Gram?”
She grins and folds her wrinkled hands into her lap. “I didn’t want to worry you. You’re dealing with so much in school.”
“You are more important,” I tell her honestly. “School will always be there.” I don’t say how terrified I was to hear Dad’s voice on the other end of my phone…or tell her about how worried I am that my time with her is running out.
Her face softens in a way that tells me she already knows those things. Reaching forward, she pats my hand where it lies beside her on the mattress. “Your future is important, and I’m fine. A little broken hip won’t stop that.”
“My future is here. You know that. I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Me too, honey-bug.” She pats my hand and smiles. “How was the trip? I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”
“It was fine and no trouble at all. Honestly, I regret going back after getting my bachelor’s. I don’t need a master’s to run the café, Gram.”
She purses her lips to argue, but she knows I’ve heard it all before. Just like I know she’s been pushing me to stay in school and continue my education because she doesn’t want me stuck here with her and Dad, but what she doesn’t know is that no matter how many years she pushes me toward a future I don’t want, I will always come back.
This is my home.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Keith?”
She chuckles and shakes her head. “Well, shit. Who told you about that?”
“Lincoln,” I reply.
“That boy…he shouldn’t have told you.”
“I pretty much demanded an answer as to why it was him picking me up and not someone I actually like.”
Gram chuckles and shakes her head, her hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “Lincoln is a good boy.”
“He’s an asshole.” I’ve always been able to cuss around my gram, especially since I got my dirty language habits from her. My dad rarely—if ever—cusses, so around him, I tend to keep a leash on it.
“He might have been at one time,” she admits. “But he’s working hard to turn that around. Brought me this.” She holds up a worn paperback copy of Jessica Wayne’s Warrior Of Magick. “It’s fantastic.”
I look down, not surprised in the least that she’s nearly halfway done with it already. I’ve always joked that my gram could finish the entire dictionary in a day. The woman is a reading machine.
“I didn’t realize he was a reader.”
“Me neither.” She sets the book down and leans back against the elevated back of her bed.
“What are you doing with the café?” I know she can’t afford to keep it shut down for long. Workman’s compensation covered my dad’s hospital bills, but his monthly disability payments are not nearly enough to cover the mortgage for the café or my gramm’s medication.
She sighs and leans back, shutting her eyes. “With Keith gone, I have no one to run it right now.”
“I thought Lincoln took his place?”
She chuckles and opens her eyes. “Lincoln can’t cook worth a shit. He’s helping your dad and me with maintenance and housework.”
“Then who’s been cooking?”
“You’re looking at her.”
I sigh. “Gram, you should have called.” Being on her feet all day, seven days a week, is just not smart at her age. She is going to work herself to death.
“Why? So you would drop everything and come running? You’re our baby girl. We’re supposed to be taking care of you.”
“You do, Gram, but you’re the one who taught me it’s okay to ask for help.”
She offers a dismissive wave. “I don’t want you putting your future on pause.”
“A pause is not forever,” I tell her, mentally processing my next steps. “Are the keys to the café back at the house?”
She purses her lips and nods. I know she won’t argue because she knows as well as I do if the café goes under, she and my dad are screwed. “Not forever, Macey,” she says. “Promise me.”
“Not forever,” I promise and stand. “Love you, Gram. Enjoy your book.”
“I love you too, honey-bear.”
I turn to leave, but the sound of my name brings me back.
“Macey?”
Looking back at her, I say, “Yeah?”
“Don’t give Lincoln too hard of a time. What happened—that was a long time ago.”
“Okay, Gram,” I say with a smile and walk outside. Lincoln is laughing with my dad, who looks considerably more relaxed than he did when we first arrived. “I’m headed to the café,” I tell Dad as I lean down and give him a kiss on the cheek.
“I can drive you,” Lincoln offers.
I turn to him. “No, thank you. I’m not a kid,” I bite, narrowing my gaze. Lincoln’s nostrils flare. He parts his lips to reply, but I’ve already turned my back on him.
Macey
“Thanks,” I tell the Uber driver as I climb out of the white sedan and onto the curb in front of my gram’s house.
A tire swing sways from the old maple tree in her front yard. Memories from the day we moved in come flooding back, making my throat burn with the force of emotion. I can still see them there, Gram and Dad, rocking on the porch, their chairs creaking on the old wooden floorboards. So much is still the same. Except…it isn’t.
Once faded, the shaker siding has been renewed with a shock of white paint. The once peeling door, now bestowed with a pop of orange, stands bright against the backdrop as colorful plants hang from the eaves.
Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. So many memories in this house. As I stand here on the walkway, I can nearly see Lincoln and me sitting on the front step, him teaching me the different chords of a guitar. Seeing him again…it put a big-ass crack in the broken parts of me that I’d thought were healed.