by Terri DuLong
“Thanks. I’m having such a good time.”
“I know Grant’s thrilled that you’re here.”
“Yeah, he loves having Orli for the holidays.”
“True, he does.” Melissa shifted on the sofa and leaned forward. “But I meant you.”
I wasn’t sure what to say and could feel a flush creeping up my neck.
“God, Josie, you have to know . . . he still loves you so much. He always has, and no matter what . . . I don’t think that’s ever going to change.”
“Well . . . I love him too. I mean, geez . . . we did have a daughter together.”
Melissa raised her eyebrows and took a deep breath. “Look, I’ve known you since the first time Grant brought you to this house. I’ve always liked you, so I’ve never wanted to offend you and say anything. Besides, it’s really none of my business, but . . . there’s so much more going on between the two of you than simply parenting a child together. I respect the decision you made when you found out you were pregnant with Orli, but . . . you have to know . . . Grant’s always been crazy in love with you. That’ll never change. I just want to make sure that you do realize this.”
Did I realize it? I wasn’t sure. Actually, I’d never given it much thought. He was always so good to Orli and me. He always agreed with me, no matter what the issue, about how our daughter should be raised. But hadn’t it always been about Orli? Surely, it wasn’t about me.
Melissa reached over and gave my arm a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that . . . I see the way Grant looks at you, the way he talks about you, and it always makes me feel so bad. I adore my brother-in-law and I’d love for him to have what Jeff and I have shared all these years. And of course . . . life is so short.”
I nodded and recalled what Mallory had recently said to me: You’ve always been that one great love in Grant’s life.
“Thanks, Melissa. Thanks for being so honest. I do appreciate it.”
No doubt about it—my past was definitely on a collision course with my present. And the worst part was, I didn’t have a clue what to do about it.
30
Saturday was turning out to be another perfect day. The snowflakes had disappeared along with the overcast sky. Although it was cooler than when I’d arrived, the sun was shining, and it felt good to wear a winter coat along with one of my knitted hats and scarves.
It had been sixteen years since I’d returned to Boylston Street and Emerson College. It was located across the street from Boston Common, and Grant, Orli, and I walked around so that she could see the various buildings. I could tell by the look on her face that she was captivated.
“Which one was your dorm, Mom?” she asked.
Before I had a chance to respond, Grant said, “She was in the Colonial Building. Just down here.”
The residence hall and suite-style accommodations were on the floors above the historic Colonial Theater, which was the oldest continuously operating theater in New England.
Orli nodded. “I bet it was so much fun being in the heart of Boston, so close to everything. You never stayed in touch with your roommate or any of your classmates, did you?”
I shook my head. “No, unfortunately, I didn’t.” Although I didn’t say it, I knew the main reason was because of my circumstances. Leaving college, pregnant, at the end of my freshman year put me into a whole different world from the girls who stayed on at Emerson. Had I chosen to stay and had I married Grant, there was no reason why I couldn’t have also continued on with my education. But sixteen years ago that wasn’t the choice I’d made.
Since Orli wanted to spend the night with Molly, Grant suggested we have lunch in the North End rather than dinner. By the time we dropped her off in Marblehead, it was close to four.
“Anything special you’d like to do?” he asked as we drove away from his mother’s house.
“No. I’d be happy just to go back to your place and relax.”
He laughed. “You’re going to need a vacation by the time you get home. I think I’m wearing you out.”
I looked over at his handsome face and smiled. “Not in the least.”
We entered the atrium to find Estelle Fletcher watering various plants.
“Hello, hello,” she greeted us as she pointed a finger in my direction. “You still haven’t come over to visit me.”
I smiled, but she made me feel like a recalcitrant teen. “I know and I’m sorry. We’ve just been so busy since I got here.”
She waved a hand in the air. “Not to worry, but maybe you could stop by in the morning for coffee.”
“Yes, that would be great. Around ten?”
“Perfect,” she said before bending over to water a large ficus tree in a terra cotta tub.
Grant let out a chuckle when we entered his condo. “I’m really sorry about that. Estelle can be a bit overpowering.”
I laughed as I headed to the kitchen. “Nah, not a problem. I’ll pop by in the morning to have a chat with her.”
“How about some of my mom’s turkey pie for supper? I can warm it in the oven now.”
“Sounds great,” I said as my cell phone went off. I saw that it was my mother.
“Josie,” I heard her say. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“No, we dropped Orli to spend the night at Molly’s and just got back to the condo. What’s up?”
There was a pause before she said, “Well . . . I have some news for you. I had my CAT scan yesterday and we’ll have those results on Monday, but . . . the doctor did a biopsy when I was there this past week, and he called this morning to tell me they got the lab report back.”
“So what did it show?”
“Josie . . . I’m afraid it indicates uterine cancer.”
I found my way to the stool at the counter and plunked down. “Oh,” was all I could manage to say for a moment before I mustered up my nursing voice. “Well, okay. At least now we know what’s going on. Did he indicate what stage it is?”
“Stage? No, he didn’t mention that and I didn’t think to ask. He wants to see me in his office next Tuesday. What with the bleeding, I think he wants to move on this fast.”
“Bleeding? What bleeding?” This was the first I was hearing about bleeding.
“Oh . . . uh . . . I had some breakthrough bleeding the week before last. That’s why I thought I should see the doctor, as I’m finished with menopause.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “God, Mom! Why didn’t you tell me? Yes, that’s pretty significant.”
“Okay. Yes, I know that. That’s why I made the appointment, and now’s not the time to be reprimanding me.”
She was right. “I’m sorry. What can I do, Mom? What can I do to help?”
“Well, I know you’re flying home on Tuesday and you arrive in Gainesville at twelve-thirty. So I made the appointment for two.” There was a pause before she said, “I was wondering . . . well, I’d really like . . . for you to go with me to the appointment.”
A warm feeling went through me to hear my mother request that I be the person by her side. “Yes, yes. Of course I’ll go with you.”
“Your father and I will pick you up at the airport, and he’ll take Orli for lunch while you and I go for the appointment. Will that work for you?”
“Yes, that’ll work out fine. How’re you feeling, Mom? Any pain?”
“No, no. I’m okay. Still a little tired.”
I had no doubt she was minimizing what was going on.
“Okay, I’ll definitely go with you and I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you, Mom.”
“Love you too, Josie,” she said before hanging up.
I turned around to see Grant holding a bottle of wine, a concerned expression on his face. “It’s not good, is it?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and shook my head, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face and I found myself in Grant’s arms as he patted my back and attempted to soothe me.
“Come on,” he
said, leading me to the sofa. “I’ll pour the wine, and you can tell me what’s going on.”
My mom has uterine cancer, I thought. She could die. That’s what’s going on. Bad news always has a way of allowing our rational thoughts to be replaced with the worst-case scenario.
“Here you go,” Grant said, passing me a glass and sitting beside me.
I took a deep gulp and nodded. “Thank you,” I said before blowing out a breath. “She had a biopsy and the results show uterine cancer. I don’t know much more than that except she’s seeing the doctor on Tuesday afternoon and she asked me to go with her.”
Grant grasped my hand in his. “I admit, it doesn’t sound good, but Josie, you know that there are some remarkable treatments for cancer.”
I nodded. He was right. Then why did I feel so scared?
“I know it’s easier said than done, but you have to think positive.” He waited a few moments before saying, “Do you want to fly home sooner? I could arrange a flight for tomorrow.”
I realized that once again Grant was putting me and my situation above his own. He relished the fact that Orli and I had two more full days with him, and yet . . .
Before I knew it, tears were running down my face again. I didn’t deserve such a caring and thoughtful man.
I felt his arms around me as he whispered, “It’s okay, Josie. Whatever you want. Whatever you think is best.”
After a few moments I got my tears under control, sat back, and swiped at my face. I let out a deep breath along with a hiccup and smiled. “Thank you, but no. No. We’re not ruining this trip or Orlie’s birthday tomorrow. We’ll fly back on Tuesday, as planned.”
His smile matched mine. “Okay. We’ll enjoy our wine and then have dinner.”
I pushed my food around on the plate, consuming very little of it. My appetite had vanished with my mother’s news.
“More wine or coffee?” Grant asked after we filled the dishwasher and cleaned up.
I knew I’d already had a few glasses but said, “Wine, please.”
I settled myself on one end of the sofa while Grant poured the wine. He placed the glasses on the coffee table and then went to the CD player and inserted some discs.
By the time he sat down beside me and picked up his glass Roberta Flack’s voice was filling the room with “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.”
I looked at Grant and smiled. That was our song. It had played on the car radio the night Grant picked me up for our first date, and we had both agreed the words were written for us. I thought back to that coffee shop in Boston and the first time ever I’d seen his face. I did think that the sun rose in his eyes. And the first time we made love, I knew our joy would last forever.
“We were wrong, weren’t we?” I asked.
He shifted on the sofa to look at me. “What do you mean?”
“We always thought our joy would go on forever, didn’t we?”
He took a sip of wine and smiled. “It has. We have Orli. She’s our joy.”
I nodded, and we both remained silent for a few moments.
“You asked me a question a few nights ago, remember? Whether I ever think how different my life would be had I married you.”
Grant nodded.
“I have a question for you.” I took a gulp of wine. “Something I’ve wondered about and always wanted to ask you.”
“What is it?”
I paused a moment before saying, “Why did you never ask me to marry you, Grant? Not once did you ask, even after I told you that I was pregnant.”
He fingered the stem of his wineglass and remained silent, making me think perhaps he wasn’t going to answer.
And then he said very softly, “Because you never let me.”
I took another sip of wine and waited.
“You never gave me the chance, Josie. You told me right up front which way it was going to go. You were leaving college, leaving Boston, and going back to Cedar Key. You told me you wanted to raise our child alone. You gave me no options.” He took my hand in his. “And I couldn’t pressure you. You said you’d allow me to be part of our child’s life and that was the most I could hope for.”
“So that was enough for you?”
He let out an exaggerated chuckle. “Enough? God, no. It was never enough. I wanted it all to be so different, but I knew you didn’t. And . . . I loved you enough . . . enough to let you go. I couldn’t risk losing you completely, and I didn’t want the tension of my disappointment coming between us.”
The words from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran flashed into my mind—something about loving somebody and letting them go.
I leaned toward Grant, putting my arms around his neck and pulling his face to mine. Without even thinking, I placed my lips on his. And with no hesitation I felt his mouth responding in a long, deep, passionate kiss. Gone was the benign kiss on the cheek, and in its place I felt a surge of desire I had never felt with any other man. The kiss continued as he slid me down on the sofa and awakened a part of me that only at that moment I realized had been dormant for sixteen years.
With both of us breathing heavily, we broke apart and Grant stretched alongside me, holding me in his arms as he stroked my face.
“I’ve always loved you, Josie. I’ve never stopped loving you. I want you to know that. I want you understand why I didn’t ask you to marry me, and it had nothing to do with love.”
I felt my head nod as I began to realize this. Grant hadn’t asked because he knew back then what my answer would be.
I lifted my face to his as his lips met mine again, and again I was consumed with desire. I felt his hands on my body before he pulled away and stared into my eyes.
“God knows I want you, Josie. But if this is going to happen, I want it to be right. I want it to be right with you, and after the news you got this evening . . . I don’t think it’s the right time.”
I heard the huskiness in his voice, and although my body rebelled, my mind knew that once again it had to do with timing and he was right. I was confused and upset, and I felt like my life was being turned upside down.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay. But don’t leave me. Stay here with me.”
He kissed my forehead as I snuggled deeper into his arms. “I’ll always be with you, Josie.”
31
Sun streaming through the living room windows woke me the next morning. Grant was still curled beside me. I pulled back a bit to stare at his face. That face I’d fallen in love with sixteen years ago. We’d come very close to making love the night before, and in all honesty, I was pretty sure that if Grant hadn’t stopped, it would have happened.
I let out a soft sigh. What the hell was I doing? What was I thinking? And Simon? What about Simon Mancini? A week ago it seemed that relationship might be headed somewhere. But was that what I really wanted? I had no idea.
Grant stirred, opened his eyes, and smiled. He kissed my cheek before running his fingertip slowly across my lip. “Good morning. Did you sleep okay?”
“I did. Actually, very well.”
He stood up and stretched. “Me too. Very well. I’m going to hit the shower if you want to start the coffee.”
“Deal,” I said as I stood up and fluffed the pillows on the sofa.
I spooned the coffee into the filter, filled the carafe with water, and poured the water into the coffeemaker. “Now what?” I said out loud. “Where do we go from here?”
I headed to my bathroom to take a shower and get dressed.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Grant was standing by the French doors, coffee mug in hand, looking out to the yard.
“It’s our daughter’s birthday today,” he said.
I smiled and filled my own mug before sitting at the counter. “I know. Hard to believe it’s been sixteen years.”
“About last night . . .” he started to say.
I put up my hand. “No, no. It’s okay. Really.”
He sat across from me at the counter. “No, it’s not okay. I have no
idea where we might be headed, Josie.”
Well, at least he was as confused as I was.
He reached for my hand. “But I want you to know you mean the world to me. I know you have a lot on your plate right now. With your mother, a new job . . . even this doctor, who seems pretty interested in you.”
“Oh, no, really. He’s only . . .”
“Stop. You have no idea where that might go. It might just be a colleague relationship, true. But . . . I have to face the fact that you could fall in love with him. You need to choose for yourself, Josie. I can wait until you’re sure. So . . . you’re going to go home on Tuesday and focus on your mother. That’s your priority right now. You’ll be there for her and help her through this. And I want you to know . . . I’ll only be a phone call away if you need me.”
I nodded. “And what about us?”
He paused for a second before saying, “Well, we’ll always have a connection because of our daughter, but I’m hoping when the time is right, you and I will have something more.”
I stepped into Estelle Fletcher’s condo and smiled. It was like stepping back in time to a Victorian sitting room. Heavy mahogany furniture dominated the room, but instead of brocade drapes at the windows, sheer lace curtains let in the morning sunshine, giving the room a cozy rather than sinister feel.
“Come in, come in,” she said, indicating that I should sit on the sofa. “I’ll get the coffee and muffins.”
“Can I help?”
“No, no. I’m fine.”
I looked around and noticed a large painting above the credenza, realizing it was an image of the original brick structure of Danvers State Hospital.
“Here we go,” she said, placing a tray on the coffee table.
I saw the oversized blueberry muffins and smiled. “Those are Jordan Marsh muffins, aren’t they?”
“They are. Do you have the recipe too?”
“No, but Grant’s mother does, and I used to love these.”
“Ah, yes. They were quite popular around this area in the sixties. I think every housewife had the recipe.”