“Same here, pretty girl.” Her grandmother’s hand trembled in her own. “But that doesn’t keep me from longing for the same with my son. In fact, it makes me want it more—for both of us.”
Brianna thought about that before saying anything. “What can we do?” she asked.
“Hmm. I’ve been thinking on that a lot. Prayer, of course. We’ll continue to pray. But in order to achieve a genuine breakthrough, I think I need to ask your father for forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness? For what?”
A single tear slipped down her grandmother’s cheek, breaking Brianna’s heart. What could Gran-Gran possibly need to ask forgiveness for?
“I started telling you a story on Christmas Day.”
“Started?”
“Yes. Remember I told you I’d leave the rest for another day?”
“Ah.” Brianna nodded as the memory surfaced. “I remember now. You did say that.” She gave her grandmother an inquisitive look. “What’s the rest of the story, Gran?”
“The part I left out was this.” Her grandmother’s eyes filled with pain. “After I lost Tommy and the baby, I was the emptiest, most brokenhearted girl I knew. I couldn’t seem to relate to the other girls. They were silly and flighty and had never been through anything like what I’d been through.” She sighed deeply. “And the worst part was, I couldn’t even tell any of them. I cried myself to sleep every night. It was the only relief I was afforded. That, and of course forgiveness from the Lord, which came many years later when I finally gave my heart to Him.”
Brianna reached to squeeze her hand.
“I want to tell you about how I came to be courted by your grandpa Norman,” Gran-Gran said with a smile. “He was tall, dark, and handsome, just like you read about in books. Worked at the filling station.”
“I never knew that.”
“It’s true.” Gran-Gran’s eyes lit with pleasure. “I’d go over there with my dad to gas up the car and buy a soda pop or candy bar, that sort of thing.”
“So Grandpa was really handsome?” Brianna asked with a grin. She had a hard time imagining such a thing but didn’t say so.
“Like a movie star,” Gran-Gran insisted with a nod. “And for whatever reason he seemed to take a liking to me. I knew my papa liked that notion. He wanted me to marry. I think he felt sorry for me, though he never came out and said so.”
“Oh, I’m sure he did.”
“Norman was a nice man and had lived in our little town forever. He was just the right kind of boy for me, kindhearted and stable. From a nice family. We all went to the same church, attended the same functions, had so many things in common.”
“So he asked you to marry him?”
Her grandmother smiled. “Well, after a proper courtship. We married in the spring of ’52. Things were really good those first few years. But when you enter into a relationship with an untold secret like the one I carried, it’s only a matter of time before things get sticky.”
“So you didn’t tell him about Tommy?”
“Oh, he knew about Tommy,” Gran-Gran explained. “They’d been friends. . .schoolmates. Norman didn’t know about—”
“Oh.” The baby.
She closed her eyes. “I wanted to tell him. I can’t tell you how many times I started to. Especially after we’d been married a couple of years or so. He wanted a child, and I”—her voice broke—“I just didn’t know if I could handle the idea. But I couldn’t tell him why.”
Brianna shook her head, trying to imagine how hard that must have been—for both of them.
“Your father was born in 1956,” she explained. “He was a handsome boy, the spitting image of his father. And in my heart I loved him so much. But. . .” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I just couldn’t seem to get close to him.” Her eyes flooded with tears, and Brianna’s heart nearly broke in two.
“That’s not unusual after losing a child, Gran,” she whispered. “It’s hard to show affection to the next one. I’ve heard about that.”
“But it wasn’t fair to him—or to your grandfather.” Gran- Gran began to cry and then started coughing again. When she finally calmed down, she explained. “I loved your grandpa, even if it wasn’t quite the same kind of love I’d had for Tommy. I was a wonderful wife. Did all the right things. Thought he would never find out, but. . .” She closed her eyes while more tears fell.
Brianna watched in silence, whispering a prayer that the Lord would get her grandmother through this. Somehow she knew cleansing would come with the telling of this story. And understanding. And hope for the future—for their family.
“It happened when your father was just a toddler,” Gran- Gran whispered. “Your grandpa Norman was searching through the drawers in our dresser for a savings bond. He stumbled across my photo of Katie, the one my aunt Nadine had sent.
I. . .I. . .” She shook her head, and for a moment Brianna thought she wouldn’t be able to go on. “I thought about lying to him. I knew my mother would expect me to. And my aunt, though she had softened. But I couldn’t do it. I took one look at that photo in his hands and told him everything.”
“W–what happened?”
Gran-Gran bit her lip and didn’t say anything for a minute. Finally she said, “He handed the picture back to me, told me to destroy it. Said we’d never mention it again to another living soul. I couldn’t tear up the photo, so I hid it away. But from that day on, things were never the same between us. He became angry, distant. We went through the motions of being a married couple, but in reality we were both so far apart.”
Brianna could hardly imagine her grandmother living through such pain.
“It was all so sad.” Gran-Gran drew in a deep breath. “Funny thing is, I really loved the man. Loved him till the day he died. And you can blame him for my love of football.” A hint of a smile graced her lips. “It was the one thing we had in common those last few years. We’d sit together and watch the games, and for just a few hours we were close. We could talk together and laugh. When the game was on I almost felt like all was right with the world—that nothing had ever happened to pull us apart. And I think he felt it, too. In fact, I’m sure he did.”
She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes.
“Do you need to stop for a while, Gran-Gran?” Brianna asked.
“Just one last thing I need to tell you,” her grandmother whispered. “Your father. . .”
“Yes?”
“He never knew.”
“About Katie?”
“That’s right. He never knew about her.”
Confusion filled Brianna. “But you’ve kept her picture out for everyone to see.”
“No. Only here at the house. And he rarely comes here. When he does he never seems to notice—least he’s never asked about it. I’ve needed to tell him for years. I really want him to know. I feel like I need to ask his forgiveness for not being the kind of mother he needed, for pushing him away as a youngster when I should have drawn him close. The Lord has forgiven me”—her voice broke—“but I need the forgiveness of my son. I need it something awful.”
Brianna tried to think of something to say, but no words would come. So many things swirled through her head at once, and her heart seemed to be caught up in the confusion. Just when she thought she couldn’t absorb one more thing, Gran-Gran’s eyes fluttered open once again.
“Was there something else, Gran?” she managed.
“I was just thinking of Brandon.”
“What about him?”
Her grandmother let out a lingering sigh. “I know he has a rocky past, and I can certainly relate to that. I also see how much he regrets his mistakes. I’m sure he wishes he could do it all over again. I see regret written on his face every time someone brings up his days in Tampa.”
Brianna’s heart twisted inside her at these words. She had been so hard on Brandon in the beginning. How she regretted that now.
“But when I consider the two of you toge
ther as a couple,” her grandmother continued with a smile, “I feel so hopeful. You’ve already opened up and shared about your issues with your dad, and he’s told you his mistakes and failures. You’ve both come clean. There are no untold stories, no lingering secrets.”
Brianna nodded. “Right.”
“That’s the best way to start a relationship, honey. The only way. With honesty. Each of you coming into it healed and whole, completely forgiven. Knowing without a doubt that God loves you and has washed you clean—as individuals. When you do that, you stand the best chance for a long, happy life together, with God at the center of your union.”
“Union?” Brianna whispered the word. “Do you think—?”
Gran-Gran smiled. “I’ve spent a lot of time with the Lord in the past few weeks, and I sense what He’s up to. I’m just so glad to know He’s already done a healing work in you—and in Brandon. The hardest part is truly behind you.”
“Mm-hmm.”
The only thing Brianna could think of was the scripture her grandmother had reminded her of on Christmas Day— the one about being as white as snow, about being washed, made clean. She wanted to remind Gran-Gran of that but couldn’t seem to speak.
She wanted something else, too.
For the first time in a long while Brianna wanted to pick up the phone and call her dad.
❧
Brandon paced around the house late Sunday morning, restless. Every time he thought about today’s play-off game between Denver and Cincinnati, he felt ill. We should have been the ones playing today. I should have led my team to victory.
He began to pour out his heart to the Lord, all the while circling the living room like a caged tiger, leaving track marks in the carpet. On and on he went, emptying himself of the frustration and eventually receiving much-needed peace in its place.
When he finally reached the point where he could think clearly, Brandon picked up the telephone to call Brianna.
If he couldn’t play the game, he would at least watch it— with the woman he loved.
TWENTY-ONE
Brianna took extra time getting ready for Brandon’s arrival. She planned to wear her pink sweater and jeans and put on the tiniest bit of makeup. Then she would warm up the chicken soup and rolls, just in case he hadn’t eaten lunch. All of this she did with a renewed sense of anticipation. And a few butterflies. She hadn’t felt this way since. . .
Hmm. She didn’t recall ever feeling this way. But she certainly liked the way she felt.
With Gran-Gran sleeping upstairs, she and Brandon would have a chance to settle down on the sofa side by side and watch the game. Of course, she was still on a learning curve where the plays were concerned, but surely he wouldn’t mind that. He might even be grateful for the chance to share his expertise.
Just about the time she climbed out of the shower, the doorbell rang. “What?” He was early. Almost an hour, in fact. She scrambled into a robe, wrapped her hair in a towel, and sprinted down the stairs. When she inched the front door open enough to ask him to give her a few minutes, she came face-to-face with Rena instead.
“Afternoon, Bree!” Rena pushed the door open and gasped. “Oh, my! You’re in your robe.” She quickly shut the door behind her, almost dropping the Crock-Pot she held in her hands.
“What’s that?” Brianna asked. She certainly hadn’t been expecting a food delivery today. Perhaps Gran-Gran had arranged it without telling her.
“Beef stew. Thought it might make Abbey feel better.”
“Well, I made—”
“I just know she loves my beef stew,” Rena added. “And with the big game coming, she needs to keep up her strength in order to cheer with the rest of us.”
Rest of us?
“Oh, well, she’s not going to watch the game,” Brianna explained. “She’s sleeping.”
“What?” Rena’s stunned expression spoke volumes. “I don’t believe it. Abbey? Miss a play-off game? Impossible!”
“She’s really sick,” Brianna said. “And it’s probably not a good idea for you to be here. Likely she’s contagious.”
“Oh, pooh. I’ve had my flu shot. And I never get sick anyway. I have the strongest constitution in town. It’s all that starch I eat. Gives me a backbone. Now just let me get this off to the kitchen, and then I’ll stay and watch the game with you.”
“Well, I—” Brianna never had the chance to finish her sentence. Rena disappeared into the kitchen.
Brianna had just turned to sprint back up the stairs when the front doorbell rang again. She let out a groan, then inched the door open once more. This time she found Lora on the other side, clutching a large pan in her hands.
With a sigh Brianna swung the door open and ushered the woman inside. “What have we here?” she asked, though the smell gave it away.
“Corned beef and cabbage,” Lora responded. “Best thing in the world for opening up the sinuses. Abbey will be well in no time.”
No doubt. “Rena’s already in the kitchen. I’m headed upstairs to get dressed. Brandon’s going to be here—”
A knock at the door interrupted her sentence.
“Would you get that?” Brianna whispered. “I have to get dressed.”
“Of course, of course.” Lora set the pan down on the coffee table then turned to open the door just as Brianna disappeared up the stairwell. Her heart thumped like mad all the way up the stairs. She could hear Brandon’s voice as he and Lora shared their hellos. His boisterous laugh rang out through the house, and Brianna felt a wave of relief wash over her. Apparently he didn’t mind that two elderly women would be joining them today.
Make that three.
Just as she neared the upstairs bathroom, Gran-Gran made an appearance in the hallway, dressed in her robe, her hair piled all topsy-turvy on her head.
“What are you doing up?” Brianna scolded.
Her grandmother gave her a puzzled look. “I heard voices. Woke me up. Thought maybe it was a heavenly choir. Gave me a bit of a jolt.”
“Very funny.”
“Who’s here? And why?”
“Everyone and their brother.” Brianna let out a sigh. “And they’ve come to watch the game.”
“Ah.” Gran-Gran nodded. “I forgot to uninvite the ladies. They always see a game as a standing invitation. Are you upset?”
“Nah. I suppose it just wouldn’t be right without them.” Brianna gave her grandmother a motherly look. “But none of this explains why you’re up and about. You should be in bed.”
Gran-Gran shrugged. “I’m feeling better. My fever broke, and that decongestant you gave me really worked wonders.”
“Uh-huh. Sure it did.” Brianna stood in the doorway of the bathroom, gazing into the red-rimmed eyes of the woman she loved more than almost anyone else in the world. She wouldn’t argue with her about something as silly as a football game. If her grandmother wanted to watch the game, she would watch the game, no arguments.
“Kickoff is in twenty minutes.”
“I know.” Brianna laughed. “I’m trying to get dressed, but no one will let me.”
“Please.” Her grandmother gestured toward the bathroom. “Be my guest.” She gave her a wink. “And while you’re at it, wear your blue sweater.”
“Blue sweater? Why?”
Gran-Gran gave a little giggle then added, “I have it on good authority someone thinks it brings out the color of your eyes.”
“Aha.” Her cheeks warmed, and she closed the bathroom door to avoid any further embarrassment.
Brianna spent the next ten minutes slipping into her clothes, blow-drying and styling her hair, and applying a bit of lip gloss. All the while she thought about Brandon.
Hmm.
Maybe she’d better not think too much about him while trying to apply mascara. The trembling in her hands made for a messy application.
Still—she gazed at herself in the mirror. Could he ever really love someone like her?
Love. Hmm.
She stared at
her reflection, noticing the peaceful expression in her eyes. Oh, how wonderful it felt. Then with a happy heart she descended the stairs. Brandon met her at the bottom step, his eyes growing wide as he saw her.
“You look great,” he whispered. “That blue sweater is—”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t care. The look on his face told her everything she needed to know. She managed to whisper a gentle thank-you and found herself unable to look into his eyes without blushing. I feel like a schoolkid.
Oh, well. There were worse things.
Brandon took her by the hand, a gentlemanly gesture, for sure, and helped her down the last stair. She took hold of his hand as if she wouldn’t have made it otherwise.
“Where are the ladies?” she asked.
“In the kitchen, warming up the food.” He laughed but never let go of her hand. “I peeked. We’re going to have a, uh, rather unusual meal.”
“I think the corned beef and cabbage threw us over the edge,” she agreed. “But don’t feel as if you have to eat any or all of it. They think you’re pretty special whether you eat their food or not.”
His fingers gently intertwined hers, and he gazed into her eyes. “What about you?”
Her breath caught in her throat as she pondered his question. Did he want to know if she thought he was special or—?
“What did you cook?” he asked with a wink.
She grinned. “Chicken soup.”
“Ironic.”
“Oh?”
“I have a hankering for chicken soup today. Call it a coincidence.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure.”
Just then something distracted them. The sound of three elderly women coming down the hallway toward the living room, chattering all the way.
“D–did you h–hear that?” Rena asked, breathless. “We’re missing the k–kickoff.”
“Oh?” Brianna pulled her hand out of Brandon’s, but not before her grandmother took note of it. The look of pure joy in her eyes was worth any amount of embarrassment. “Seems we have a game to watch,” Brianna said, gazing up into his eyes. “Are you ready?”
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