Fractured Fairy Tales: A SaSS Anthology

by Amy Marie

  “It’s a girl,” Grant forces out in a husky whisper. “Shannon Amelia Crawford. We wanted you to know your granddaughter’s name.”

  I stare out the window, not fighting the tears that well up.

  God, Amelia. You should be here for this. We raised such a good man.

  In my heart, I know she is here. I’ll always carry a bit of her in my heart, as will Grant.

  “That’s a beautiful name, son.” My mouth opens, then closes again. I don’t know what to add. My jaw clenches. “Beautiful.”

  I walk over to where Grant sits at Kathleen’s side and hug him, reaching over to pat her arm. “Beautiful girl, I’m so sorry. So damn sorry.”

  We love on our kids, trying to carry some of the load of their grief. It’s messy and perfect.

  Eventually, the rest of the family spills into the room. Kat announces their little girl’s name this time, and we run through a few more boxes of tissues. Eventually, most of them trickle out, allowing Kat’s oldest niece to come visit her for a few minutes. The siblings and their families eventually load up and caravan back to Glasgow.

  Ian and Colleen will be here until Kat is discharged—and probably a while after to help with her recovery. I made arrangements to stay another night, but Bryant and I will need to leave tomorrow afternoon to get back for work and school. I’ve got some vacation time accumulated, so I’ll come back for some visits to make sure Grant is staying strong.

  Roxie would be good in this situation. I quickly dismiss the thought. It’s too soon, and such a highly charged atmosphere isn’t the place for this introduction.

  Hope is starting to bloom. Roxie would fit in here. She would love on everyone. Bring that sense of stability. Comfort.

  Maybe I’ll get an opportunity to talk to Grant. Maybe I’ll make an opportunity. I won’t push.

  But I’m getting a glimpse of what could be.

  Sunday morning, Janice and Grace are visiting Kat, so Grant steps out with me for a bit.

  I hand him my green thermos. “Joseph told me what to order at your favorite coffee place, so I stopped on the way here. I didn’t want to tempt Kat with the smell, so I sealed it in here. Bryant whipped you up some breakfast—he’s got it in the waiting room.”

  He grins, taking the coffee gratefully. We stop by the waiting room, and the two brothers hug.

  We did good, Amelia.

  The three of us make our way out to the courtyard. Grant thanks Bryant, then eats in silence.

  “Boys, I want to talk about something while we’re all here together.” I rub my chin, running my fingers through my beard nervously.

  “Around New Year’s, my therapist told me to think about the possibility of dating again. I fought it, because it just felt wrong. But he was right. Getting to that point—giving myself permission to consider it—was part of working through the grief. Part of allowing myself closure instead of living in limbo.”

  Bryant smirks. “Told you so.”

  “Nobody asked, smartass,” I chuckle.

  Grant glances at me. “But there’s more.”

  He’s perceptive. “Yeah, there is. I met someone in group. She was actually filling in for my usual therapist, on medical leave.”

  Grant’s eyes harden, but I wave away his concern.

  “She was just the group facilitator. Grief therapy isn’t really her area, so she treated it more like she was attending the session. She’s a military widow. She actually started attending after that.” He relaxes, returning to his breakfast.

  Bryant looks at me strangely, putting together pieces as I watch. He’s pretty perceptive, too.

  “Sometimes the group goes out to eat afterward. She and I started talking about kids. She knew Grant was in another city, and asked advice about letting your kids leave the nest. It kinda grew from there.”

  “It’s still really new. We’re taking things slow, because we’re both dealing with dating as widows. It makes things complicated. For every moment of happiness, there can be layers of guilt and grief.”

  I get a shoulder grip from Bryant.

  Grant asks, “But there are moments of happiness, right?”

  I nod. “She’s a good woman. Right, Bryant?”

  He looks at me, confirming his suspicions. “Are you talking about Mrs. Cole? Alex’s mom?”

  “I am,” I reply softly.

  “Yes, she is a good woman.” He hesitates. “Does Alex know?”

  “To some degree. He knows that she has gone out with Bryant’s dad. I don’t know how much he knows beyond that.” Now it’s my turn to hesitate. “She’s younger than I am. Almost a decade. Does that bother either of you?”

  “If you’re happy, I’m happy,” Grant tells me, smiling.

  “Me, too.”

  “Good.” I’m more relieved than I thought I would be.

  “Now that I’ve shared that, I want to mention therapy again. Even if it’s for a short time, it might be good for you and Kat. A little or a lot of help processing things so they don’t fester. Strengthening your relationship as you prepare for marriage. And Bryant, it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you wanted to have a few sessions yourself. Sort out everything with your mother, how I handled that whole time, and getting ready to launch into your career.”

  Both boys look agreeable. Since Grant’s mouth is full, Bryant replies for both of them. “We just may do that. And Mrs. Cole would be a good one to ask for referrals—she’s the one I asked at Thanksgiving.”

  “That she would. And thank you for that.”

  “Anytime, Dad.”

  Life is short. Happiness isn’t guaranteed. Love is precious.

  And a second love? It’s so far beyond what I ever allowed myself to dream. That’s not where we are—not at all.

  But it could be.

  And as greedy as it might seem to reach for this, I can’t even consider the alternative. To squander this beautiful possibility.

  Chapter 7

  Clint

  I have a lot on my mind as I drive from Nashville to Glasgow. Part of me wants to stop and see Roxie on my way home and catch her up.

  No, that’s not true. She’s pretty current—I’ve texted and talked with her on the phone several times. I want to be around her. Hold her. Absorb a little of her strength. Feel her frozen fingers on my chest again. Maybe offer her a little of my warmth.

  But I want to get a few things squared away within myself first. Roxie deserves to feel treasured. I certainly know how to do that.

  She also needs to feel secure. I’m comfortable financially, and so is she. We both have good relationships with our kids, and they’re all okay with us dating. But I’m almost a decade older than Roxie. We both know the risks of loss, that you can’t eliminate all of them. Longevity is in my genes, but I haven’t done myself any favors the past few years. It’s time to get serious about my health, both physical and mental.

  Grant gave me some workout tips. I’m going to get more consistent with those. I’ll talk to Bryant about refining my diet. Not some fad diet, but just some general guidelines for now. Cutting down on sugar and eating more vegetables is a safe place to start until I talk to him. In another month, maybe I’ll go back to both of them and step up the diet and exercise plans a little more.

  I need to review the paperwork I got from the clinic where I did my outpatient rehab. They took a lot of bloodwork, and the results came with explanations about what they meant. Maybe schedule a visit to my primary care doctor and see how she recommends I take better care of myself.

  When I started therapy, I committed to give up bourbon for six months. March is month number four. I used to drink because I liked the flavor. In the aftermath of Amelia’s death, I drank to numb myself. To drown my emotions. And now? Now, I’ll always associate the smell and taste with overwhelming grief.

  Now, I’m not saying I’ll never touch alcohol again. An occasional glass of bubbly, maybe a beer with the boys? I’m okay with those. But giving up bourbon makes sense for me.

&n
bsp; I’ll even ask for help on grooming stuff. Maybe Kat can help me, or point me in the right direction. Get some lotions and shit for my skin. Better stuff for my hair. Definitely better stuff for my mustache and beard, if I plan on kissing Roxie.

  Spoiler: I plan on kissing Roxie.

  I pull my V-neck sweater over my head, smoothing it into place. I survey my outfit, feeling stylish but not stuffy. I mentioned to Joseph on a recent visit that I had no idea what to wear on a date these days—everything I had was either casual enough for jeans and hiking boots or my work uniforms, with a couple of formal pieces thrown in for the occasional wedding or funeral. That leaves a huge gap in that nicer-but-not-too-formal range I want to hit.

  I can admit that I want to look nice for my girl.

  Joseph sent me to meet a friend of his at a nearby department store. I’m pretty sure that’s not where he worked, but the staff greeted him by name. Jared confirmed what Joseph told him as my goals, asked me a few questions about the types of dates, and looked me over with an assessing eye. Then he loaded my arms with colors, patterns, and luxurious fabrics.

  It felt like one of those makeover shows, but every item and combination was a winner. Jared helped me narrow down my selections for that day, making suggestions for the next pieces to add. He even showed me how to make different combinations with those pieces, so I didn’t just have the shirt-and-pants pairings I normally think of.

  The man even added a few packs of new underwear at the register. And dammit, I liked them, too.

  Today, I’m wearing one of my favorite new outfits. My light blue V-neck sweater—Jared called it cerulean, but I’ll just stick with blue—is layered over a white dress shirt with a subtle pattern, collar unbuttoned. No tie. The chinos—again, Jared said they were Adirondack Berry, but God help me, they’re pink. Not pale baby pink, thankfully, but perfect for spring and Easter dinner at Grant and Kat’s. My navy blazer on top—just navy this time—and a pair of casual brown leather shoes. I add a big watch—Jared told me to lean into the old school vibe there, since so many people don’t wear watches anymore—and I’m ready to go.

  I’ve made a few visits to check in with Kat and Grant since they came home from the hospital. It was a little rocky at first, with him taking her to his house and her mom expecting her back at her own place. Until she could travel, of course, and Colleen could pack her up and bring her back to Glasgow. Kat put her foot down on that one, surprising everyone.

  After the tug-of-war subsided, things settled into a routine pretty quickly. Every time I visited, I checked if the Shannons needed me to deliver any meals. Unless they were visiting that day, they always did. Grant wisely gave Colleen and Kat’s sister Leslie a mission: to prepare healthy meals, labeled and frozen, to allow him to focus on Kat’s recovery. Grant’s freezer is full, as are Grace’s, Joseph’s, and Nate’s. Grant sends meals back with me on a regular basis as well, so I’ve been eating better than I have in years.

  I could have brought Roxie, but that would have left Alex on his own for Easter. Besides, she’s hosting a bunch of friends. We are avoiding the attached-at-the-hip couple vibe, where people lose their individual identities. I want Roxie to stay the strong woman I met—that’s what attracted me to her.

  I can’t help but suspect that Grant and Kat have some kind of surprise for us. I talked with Dr. Black after my decision to kick bourbon for good, and he agrees with my reasoning. Since alcohol as a whole is not my issue—just bourbon as an emotional trigger rather than an addiction—he even suggested if they do have some sort of surprise, it wouldn’t hurt if I have a small glass of something (besides bourbon, of course) as a toast. Bubbly or beer is what I might consider, so if Grant pours his usual whiskey, I’ll abstain. Too close to bourbon for my comfort level.

  I think they’re announcing the wedding date, and this is more of an engagement dinner. Maybe not that, but they seemed awfully determined to get everyone there. As a matter of fact, there are far more people attending than they have parking for, so some of us are carpooling.

  I drive to Joseph’s house and park so I leave room for others. He’s a big guy—a former NFL defensive lineman tends to be both tall and muscular—so he drives a big SUV to have enough headroom and legroom. His ride is on the street, leaving the entire driveway for me and a few of their friends. I hear a rumble in the distance—definitely not a modern engine. A gorgeous Plymouth Barracuda roars down the street. Not speeding—the driver is a Metro police officer, after all—the engine just has that vintage American muscle car growl.

  Sweet ride. I’ll definitely be talking to him and checking that car out later.

  As we all load up, Joseph motions me to the front with him. He’s a good man, and a good friend to my son. As conversation swirls in the back, Joseph shifts his weight to his arm on the console, leaning closer to me. “Sharp outfit. Jared?”

  “It is, thank you. I really appreciate the introduction. He knew exactly what I needed. I learned a lot.”

  He nods. “I send a lot of my clients his way. He’s talented. Really understands how to use your appearance to communicate who you are.” He shoots me a mischievous grin. “He has another job where he tends to practice that on himself.”

  I can tell he wants me to ask. Model, maybe? Jared is tall and confident. But they wear what they’re told.

  “How, exactly?”

  Joseph grins. “He’s also a drag queen. I’ll let him tell you that name. He shares it with such a dramatic flair, it’s fun to watch.”

  I laugh and shake my head. Amelia would have loved that. Hell, Roxie might sign up for a makeover, herself.

  It occurs to me that I’m starting to think of Roxie almost as often as I do Amelia in these situations.

  Joseph’s low voice brings me back to the present. “How’s it going with the dating scene? Grant tells me you’re seeing someone.”

  “Yeah, I’m not one for playing the field.”

  He nods. “Makes sense. Can’t be easy, putting yourself out there again.” He pauses “You doing okay?”

  He doesn’t just ask questions to be polite—he’s actually interested in my answer. I give it a moment of thought. “I am. It took a while, and some help, but I am. Therapy’s damn hard, but it helped me find my way out of a dark hole.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Grant was really worried about you for a while there.”

  I hang my head, still ashamed of the depths to which I sunk. Before I can respond, he continues. “That’s to tell you how much you mean to him, not to make you feel bad. You came through hell and back. But you came back, Clint.” He eyes me briefly, focused on driving. “Grant says Bryant knows the lady you’re dating. Thinks the world of her.”

  “Roxie’s something else.”

  “Your boys want you to be happy, you know? If she’s a good woman, don’t hold back on their behalf. Deny yourself happiness for no reason.”

  “I’m not—we’re taking it slow, but it’s not about the boys. It’s about making sure we get it right. I can’t...move fast and still stay casual. Know what I mean? I’m not wired that way.” I keep my gaze straight ahead, a little uncomfortable with the conversation. According to Grant, this is how Joseph is. He seems to provide mini-therapy sessions to his friends on a regular basis.

  “I get it, man. I get it. Just make sure you don’t stay in low gear out of habit when it’s time to make your move. Carpe diem.”

  He offers his fist, and I bump it. “Seize the day.”

  I grin, thinking about Roxie. For so long, I couldn’t see more than a few days ahead. But now? I’m starting to see my future. And I think we’re pretty close to that point.

  When we get to Grant and Kat’s, they send us to the back yard, which is full of tables and flowers. Containers of lush ferns are everywhere. Apparently Grace’s little sister is an event planner and pulled off all this magic.

  Servers scurry under a tent at the back, and I smell the smoke before I see the giant trailer that looks like the kind of grill
or smoker you see in barbecue competitions. A pretty blonde steps up to a microphone and gets everyone’s attention.

  “Happy Easter, everyone. My name is Lina, but I also answer to ‘Grace’s little sister’.” Chuckles ripple through the group.

  “I think we’ve got the whole group here, but Kat and Grant asked me to let you know a few things before we start serving the food. We’d like to ask that you sit where you find you name. We have a few food allergies, so we’re trying to avoid cross-contamination. While we have a few medical professionals here, we’d rather avoid asking them to jump into service in their nice clothes.”

  She’s a gracious hostess, meant for this kind of work. I glance around, noting a few tables with subtle differences in décor. Probably how she’s communicating with the servers. Smart girl, like her sister.

  “In addition to the water already on the tables, we have an assortment of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks at the bar—lemonade, limeade, sweet tea, all that fun stuff. Please be prepared to show your ID to the bartender if you’d like to spike your drink. You have time to select a drink before we start serving.”

  She steps away from the microphone, walking around with a watchful eye. I find the lemonade and limeade are syrups, much like Roxie made for our picnic. “Got club soda or something sparkling back there?” A young bartender holds up a bottle of club soda and a bottle of tonic water. “I’d like a sparking limeade with the club soda, if that’s possible.” She quickly assembles my drink, garnishing it with a sprig of leafy herbs.

  It’s so good, I decide to forgo the bubbly and stick with this if there’s a toast.

  As I return to my seat, I notice Lina going in the house, Ian following her as she explains something. Curious.

  I pull out my phone and take a few pictures of the setup and text them to Roxie.

  Me: Haven’t seen Grant or Kat yet, and the event planner just took Ian inside.

  Me: I think we’re about to have a surprise wedding.