by Sophie Blue
Copyright © 2020 Sophie Blue
All rights reserved.
Cover Design by LJDesigns
Editing by Magnolia Author Services
Paperback Formatting by LJDesigns
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
To Nan and Gramps,
I will always treasure the memories of our summers together.
Thank you for always believing in me and telling me I was capable of great things.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Books by Sophie Blue
About the Author
Prologue
Isn’t it funny how you spend your whole childhood wishing you were a grown up? Wishing you could be your own boss, stay up all night, eat ice cream all day, not go to school, drive a car, have your own place, and be your own person? Only to grow up and realise you’d do anything to be a kid again.
Growing up, I spent more summers than I can remember at my grandparents’ house. I loved the times I spent with them. The memories I made. I’d give anything to be that wide-eyed little girl again. Sitting on my nan’s living room floor, helping her with her lines for her next play. Watching in awe as she embodied a different character each time and brought them to life. Those were some of the best days of my life.
Instead, I’m sitting on a decaying, wooden bench in a cemetery. It’s a humid day in June, and my gaze stays on the polished rock in front of me. I wish I could go back in time and tell my younger self to hug them a little tighter, appreciate them a little more. Back then I thought everyone would live forever. It never occurred to me that our evenings sat around the TV with a cuppa and a packet of plain crisps would be limited.
Losing my nan a few years ago had hit me hard. One day she was there, the next she wasn’t. She was healthier than me. She ran half marathons, went to the gym three times a week, and was a master of spin class. Yet one day she woke up and her heart gave out. Life is cruel. Gramps took her loss hard, unsurprisingly. They were childhood sweethearts. Married at eighteen and rarely spent a day apart since. Losing her was one of the worst days of my life. Yet the waves of despair didn’t pull me completely under, although not for lack of trying. I still had Gramps to keep me afloat amidst the rough waves. To hold me when I cried, to call when I needed to talk. It was after Nan passed that we started to notice his forgetfulness. The repeating of things, the short-tempered outbursts. It was like he was a different person sometimes.
When my mum sat me down in her living room and told me he had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I refused to believe it. This man was larger than life, the life of the party. There wasn’t a single person on Earth with a bad word to say about him. Loved by all, admired and respected. He was one of the best. And he meant the world to me. There was no way the world would be cruel enough to pick him.
Staring at the rock in front of me, with the elegant scrawl across the front, I wipe a tear from my eye and take a deep breath. It’s been six months, but it still hurts. Standing, I grab my bag and the bouquet and walk towards the stone.
“I miss you guys. I miss you so bloody much. I wish we were back in the bungalow, dancing in the conservatory to the music blaring out of the jukebox. I wish I’d hugged you a little tighter. Called you more often. I wish we’d had more time.”
Crouching down, I place the bright bouquet of sunflowers on the grave and take a breath. I put one hand on the rock and trace their names with my finger.
“I’ll come back soon,” I promise, standing up and making my way back to my car.
Chapter One
For early June, it’s hotter than you would expect in England. I put the windows of my red Fiat 500 down and sing along to the country song blaring out of the speakers. Trying to forget everything. All the hurt, the pain, the loss.
Today would have been my grandfather’s eightieth birthday. My chest constricts at the thought, the thought that this year I don’t get to celebrate with him. Every year since I can remember, I’ve visited him on his birthday, or as close to it as I could if it were a weekday and I had to go to school. He was the king of the bear hug. No one gave better hugs than Gramps. What I wouldn’t give to have one of them now.
When the Alzheimer’s got worse, it broke my heart. Gramps and I were thicker than thieves. He was my best friend. I was his little sunflower. I remember the first time I visited him in the hospital, after he’d had a fall. I was sat at the side of his bed with Mum and he saw my locket. It was a sunflower; he’d bought it me for my eighteenth birthday. He’d smiled and said, “That’s pretty, why a sunflower?”
It took everything I had inside of me not to break down and sob right there and then. But I’d put a brave face on and said, “It’s a symbol of love and loyalty.” The fact that he’d forgotten our mutual love of the bright flower hurt more than I can say. All those memories that meant so much to me, gone. Erased by this cruel disease, even if only temporarily.
Following my sat nav, I turn down the next road and follow the numerous signposts for my destination. I wanted to do something special today for Gramps. So I’d decided to make the two-hour drive to visit a sunflower field. We talked about going to one for so long, so I decided to make the trip today in his memory.
Pulling into the car park, I’m in awe of the sight in front of me. Hundreds of sunflowers standing proudly in a field. Eagerly looking towards the sun, basking in its glory. My chest feels tight and I have to remember to take a breath. The golden yellows and browns are truly breath-taking. Pulling into a space, I turn the engine off and smile, looking out my window and up to the sky.
“Happy Birthday, Gramps.”
Chapter Two
Golden yellows, bright green stalks, warm oranges. I feel oddly at home walking between the rows of flowers. The colours, the smells, the freedom. Playing with the silver sunflower locket that’s hanging from my neck, I admire the beauty around me.
Sunflowers have always fascinated me. Gramps talked about them a lot. About how they inspire love and joy and happiness. How they are a symbol of hope and growth. Luck and faith. Being here brings me a strange sense of peace. Like I can feel him around me, comforting me.
It’s a beautiful summer day, and in England you have to make the most of them; they’re few and far between. Following the small tour in front of me, I listen to the guide talking about the fields and how they came to be. I watch as people take photos, ask questions, and laugh. It’s funny; in this field full of flowers that represent happiness and hope, I feel oddly al
one and disconnected from the others. I wish Gramps were here.
For the past six months I’ve been trying to pull myself together. I had a bit of a breakdown after we lost Gramps. I withdrew from the world and struggled to even get up in the morning. Moving back in with my parents was tough but necessary. I needed the support; I needed my family. I left my job and started therapy, focusing on getting healthy and happy again. Taking one day at a time and trying to heal.
It’s been a rough journey, but I feel like I’m slowly getting there. I don’t feel as hopeless now, I don’t get panic attacks daily. Concentrating on each day as it comes, I remind myself of all the good still in the world. All the beauty and the opportunities and the love. One day at a time. That’s what I’m focusing on.
We are circling round and almost back at the car park. The tour guide motions for the group to follow him into the gift shop to see what they have to offer. Whether it’s grow your own sunflower kits, sunflower seeds to eat, sunflower oil, or other memorabilia. I pass and walk toward the small café overlooking the field, desperately in need of more coffee.
Chapter Three
Age Five
Sitting at the wooden dining table, I look over my shoulder to salt and pepper haired Gramps, who’s in the kitchen making me one of his famous egg banjos. With his Fred Flintstone apron on, singing along to Radio 2, I giggle to myself at how silly he is.
“Gramps, why do you call me Sunflower?” I ask, swinging my legs forward and back and continuing with my colouring. I decided to make a card for Nanny to say good luck in her latest play. She’s an actress. Sometimes she lets me go to her rehearsals with her and watch.
“Because you are a source of unconditional love, darling.” He smiles over at me and I giggle. He’s so funny.
“What does that mean?” I ask, watching as he plates up my sandwich and brings it to the table where I’m sitting. Placing it in front of me, he sits in the seat beside me and takes a sip of his coffee.
“It means that you are loved very much by everyone,” he says softly, smiling down at me as I tuck into my sandwich.
Taking a bite of my sandwich, I wait for him to continue. I love Gramps’ stories.
“Sunflowers are known for following the sun. You do that too; you always see the light. The positive in everything. Your nan says it’s because you’re young and haven’t been jaded by the world yet, but I know better. You’re special, my little Sunflower.”
I’m not one hundred percent sure what he means but I smile anyway, because he loves me. And that is all I need to know.
Chapter Four
Pulling out a plastic chair at a small table by the window, I have a seat and gaze out across the endless flowers. A beautiful, cloudless blue sky is a rare sight in England, and I smile knowing the sun is shining down for Gramps.
Taking a sip of the coffee I bought, I pull my kindle out of my bag and start reading. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to get lost in a book. After Gramps passed, I struggled mentally, and my anxiety went through the roof. Concentrating on anything was a struggle. Reading and writing poetry have always been my escape. I love poetry, always have. But I haven’t been able to really write since he passed, only little words and phrases here and there. I miss it. It’s always been an emotional outlet for me, but it’s as if words just can’t do justice to the weight of my loss. It took a lot of visits to the doctor, support from my parents and a therapist to get me to where I am today. I unravelled, and it was awful. But I feel like I’m slowly finding my feet again.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” Looking up, I’m momentarily dazzled by the man in front of me. With light brown hair and bright blue eyes, he’s gorgeous. He has a small scruff of facial hair and a friendly smile. I realise that he’s still staring down at me, waiting for my reply.
“No, help yourself.” Gesturing to the empty seat, I send him a small smile and go back to my book. Instead of taking it to another table like I expect, he pulls it out and sits down opposite me at my table.
“Thanks. It’s super busy in here today. Must be the good weather,” he says, taking a sip of his drink and smiling over at me. “I’m Tyler.”
“Isabelle,” I say, taking him in. In dark blue jeans and a light blue polo shirt, he looks like he stepped off of a magazine cover.
“Pretty,” he says, leaning back in his chair and thanking the waitress who comes over with his order. Looking at the jacket potato filled with cheese and beans, my mouth waters.
“Can I get you anything else?” she asks, looking between us with a kind smile.
“Can I get one of those please?” I say, motioning to Tyler’s plate. My stomach rumbles in agreement and I can feel my face heating.
“Sure thing,” she says, heading back to the kitchen.
Tyler tucks into his jacket potato before saying, “Good choice. So Isabelle, what brings you here today?”
“Sunflowers, what else?” I motion to the fields outside and he laughs, rolling his eyes. He did ask for that.
“Figured as much; are you from around here?” Taking another bite of his meal, he eyes me with curiosity.
“No, I live a couple of hours away. Just travelled up for the day to see the sunflowers.”
The waitress reappears with my jacket potato and the receipt, letting me know I can pay at the till on my way out. Thanking her, I tuck in and moan at the taste.
“Good, right?” Motioning with his fork to the food.
“So good,” I agree while shovelling another fork full of potato into my mouth.
“I’m guessing you’re a big sunflower fan?” he says, motioning to my sunflower locket. I reach for it out of habit and run my fingers over it.
“Something like that,” I say, smiling and continuing to eat my potato. I didn’t realise how hungry I was. I skipped breakfast this morning, opting for a coffee and a head start instead, not knowing how bad traffic would be with this rare period of wonderful weather.
After a few moments of eating in a comfortable silence, I decide to be honest. Get it all off of my chest. Why not? He did ask. I won’t see this stranger again, so what’s the harm in unloading all of my baggage on him?
“My grandfather would have been eighty today. He died last year. He used to call me his little Sunflower. Sunflowers were kind of our thing,” I say, smiling as I remember all the times we spent together. God, what I wouldn’t do to have one more day with him. Even just an hour. I’d take anything I could get.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tyler says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. I smile back at him in appreciation. “That must have been rough.”
“He was my best friend. I took the loss really hard. It messed me up a bit. I guess I’m just trying to find my way again. Remind myself that I need to live, not just exist.” It feels cathartic to get that off my chest to someone who isn’t paid by the hour to listen to me.
“I get that.” Nodding his head, he takes a sip of his drink and looks out of the window at the flowers waving at us in the gentle breeze.
“What about you?” I ask. “What’s your story?”
“Don’t laugh,” he says, with a charming but bashful smile, that has me intrigued.
“Ok?” I offer, wondering where he is going with this.
“I wanted to go on a road trip, so I looked up the must-see places in the UK on the internet and this was on the first list I came across.”
“So you’re driving around the country crossing things off of your list?” I ask, a little impressed at his adventurousness. I wish I was that impulsive.
“Pretty much. I needed a change of scenery. Life’s been pretty rough the past year, so I figured, life’s too short. I’m doing something for me. So I have my savings, my car, and here I am.” He grins at me and I’m in awe of his spontaneity.
“Wow. I admire that,” I offer in sincerity. That must feel liberating.
“What? Having no life plan?” He laughs and finishes the last bite of his meal, before placing th
e knife and fork neatly back on the plate and using the napkin to clean his face. I find my eyes following the movement, with his light scruff of brown facial hair and thin lips, there’s no doubt that he’s an attractive man.
“No. Of having the courage to chase your dreams.”
“I guess.” He shrugs and takes another sip from his what now must be lukewarm coffee.
“When I was little,” I start, but trail off with a shake of my head. It’s silly. I don’t know why I’m pouring my heart out to this guy.
“When you were little?” he presses, leaning forward slightly in encouragement.
“It’s silly.” I shake my head and finish my last mouthful before pushing my plate away and letting out a contented sigh. That was really good.
“I’m sure it isn’t. Tell me,” he says with a friendly smile, asking the passing waitress for two more coffees.
“Gramps and I had this plan. We were going to travel around Europe to see the sunflower fields. He said he’d take me for my twenty-first birthday.” I smile fondly at the memory. It was always our plan. To make a big trip of it. “But he got sick.”
He’s quiet for a moment, thinking. “So why don’t you do it for the both of you?” he asks, looking across at me with an encouraging smile.