Come to Me Free

by Leah Atwood

  “Gramps may be gone, but no one can take your memories of him.” A piece of his heart broke with every tear she shed.

  “I was a selfish granddaughter.” She broke down in sobs.

  Instinctively, he put an arm around her shoulders and held her until she calmed. “I highly doubt that.”

  Her head rested against him. “No, it’s true. For the last few years I’ve been so focused on work, I pushed family aside. The day before he died, he and Gram wanted me to come for lunch, but I canceled to finish some paperwork.”

  He offered his sleeve as a tissue, thinking too late he should have grabbed some before leaving the funeral home. “You had no way of knowing what would happen.”

  “No, but it doesn’t excuse my behavior, and I’ll have to live with that guilt for the rest of my life.”

  A moment of clarity hit him with such force, he couldn’t breathe. Taking his arm from around her, he put his hands on her shoulder and made her face him. “Dani, I can tell you unequivocally that Gramps would not want you to carry that guilt.”

  “Why do you say that?” She blinked rapidly, but it didn’t stop more tears from falling.

  “First, if you look beyond your grief, you know Gramps was a man who saw past a person’s mistakes.” He paused with the knowledge that what he was about to say would change everything. “Secondly, I say that because Gramps told me if I wanted to live with guilt, then so be it, but I’d die a lonely, miserable man. He likened it to an illness, with the difference being that we have the power to stop guilt.”

  “Gramps told you all that?” Her knotted shoulders hunched forward, begging for the information.

  His head moved up then down. “Remember how I told you he was responsible for me praying?”

  “Yes.” She looked at him, expectation written on her face. “You told me you’d share the story someday.”

  “I think that day’s here.” He removed his hands from her and crossed them over his lap. Swallowing, he looked at the ground and willed himself to get through his story without breaking down. “I grew up in church, became a Christian when I was eight.” Daring a glance at her, he saw her eyes widen with surprise. “Looking back, I couldn’t have asked for a more idyllic childhood. Life was pretty much perfect.”

  “What changed?”

  “Let’s walk.” Standing up, he held out a hand to help her up. Something about sitting still made telling his story more difficult. Wishing he didn’t have to, he let go of her hand. Side by side, they walked around the house, into the backyard, before he spoke again. “I was working at a music store after high school, no real ambition to go to college, and worked my way up to a management position. My goal was to save some money, move to Nashville, write more songs and sell them.”

  Dani looked at him. “Not playing guitar?”

  “No. I enjoy it, but my heart was in creating.”

  “That makes sense now,” she said softly.

  “What makes sense?” He stopped walking, curious what pieces of his life she’d put together.

  “When you told me I was lucky to be living my dream because not everyone does.”

  Now that the conversation played fresh in his memory, he remembered it clearly because he’d been surprised he’d shared that much. “It’s true, you know. You are lucky, in many ways.” He rubbed his bent fingers against his palms. “When I was twenty, I met Carrie. She came into the store one day, and we hit it off. We were so much alike it was eerie. We started to date and a year later we were engaged, with plans to move to Nashville after the wedding.”

  Still stationary, he braved another look at Dani. She was listening intently, but didn’t reply. From his guess, it seemed she was trying to absorb the fact that he had been engaged.

  Forcing his feet to move, he walked and continued his story. “Our dreams were shattered two weeks before our wedding. The band we’d hired for the reception had cancelled at short notice, and we were headed to Bakersfield to audition their replacements. We were on a back road in the middle of nowhere, very few other vehicles were around.” His chest heaved, his breath came more ragged. “Carrie told me to look at something behind us, so I looked in the rearview mirror. I never saw the eighteen-wheeler come from a cross street, but I can still hear his brakes screeching. He ran his stop sign, plowing into Carrie’s side.”

  Legs weak, he found a tree to lean against. Dani placed a hand on his forearm.

  “Carrie was in bad shape. My leg was broken, but I managed to crawl out. The driver of the truck jumped out and called nine-one-one. We could smell gas leaking and knew we had to get Carrie out of the vehicle even though we knew under other circumstances we shouldn’t move her. I wasn’t much help with my leg, but the other driver got her out.” He raked his hair, gripping the strands. Reliving the worst moment of his life was torture. “She was unconscious. While the driver carried her to the sandy field, I crawled along until we were safely away from the vehicles. A minute later, there was an explosion, and the car caught fire. We saved her from that, but even still, the ambulance was too late. Carrie died in my arms.”

  “I’m sorry.” Fresh tears trickled down her face.

  He hated causing her tears, but he wanted her to hear his story. “For a long time, I was angry, at myself, at God, at the truck driver. I blamed the driver at first for not seeing the stop sign in time, but an investigation cleared him of any wrongdoing, finding that his brakes failed, despite passing a recent safety inspection. It was a freak accident.”

  Silence fell. Telling the story never got any easier, and he needed a minute. He rubbed his jaw absently, then continued. “After the driver was cleared, I blamed God because He’s God—to my thinking, He had the power to prevent the accident from happening, but still allowed it. But mostly, I blamed myself. If I had kept my eyes on the road, I could have seen the truck coming and done something. My responsibility was to protect her, and I failed.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Rob.”

  “I needed to blame someone.” He leaned his head against the tree bark and gave a mocking snort. “I never even knew what it was she wanted me to see.”

  “I had no idea,” Dani whispered.

  They were silent again for a while.

  “How does Gramps come into this?” Hope played in her eyes.

  He smiled. He was almost to the happy ending of his story. “As soon as my leg healed enough to drive cross country, I left Sand River.”

  “Sand River?” Her hand that had been on his arm fell to her side.

  “My hometown in California. It’s a sleepy little place in the middle of the Mojave desert.”

  “Hmm.” Her lips twisted, and she stared at him, intrigue written on her face. “I didn’t have you pegged as a California guy. I would have said Wisconsin maybe, or Minnesota.”

  Her smile and guess made him chuckle. “For real?”

  “Yes, but don’t ask why because I couldn’t give you an answer.”

  “For the record, I’ve never been to either of those states, not even on tour.” He shook his head, still amused by her guess. He’d grown up in one of the hottest parts of the country, and she’d placed him in the coldest. He shivered just thinking about it. “Too cold for my blood.”

  “Are you going to finish your story or not?” She playfully punched him, but her tone still held eagerness.

  The light banter was a pleasant intermission. “I moved to Nashville, and while I still wrote songs, I couldn’t bring myself to market any of them. There was a song I had been writing for Carrie, that was to be a wedding present for her, but after her death, I couldn’t bring myself to finish it. The right words never came.”

  “So you played instead of creating?” She crossed her arms loosely over her chest.

  “Yes. I’d been in Nashville a few years doing little gigs here and there when I met Adam and Jay. They were new to the scene and needed a guitarist. Our styles mixed well as did our personalities.” The memories made him smile again. “We’d been playing as a g
roup for a few months when we met Bryce, who was dating Caroline at the time. Everything fell into place at a last minute gig, and the rest, as they say, is history, at least in terms of how we all came together.”

  “Did they know about Carrie?”

  “No. No one in Nashville knew, which was how I wanted it.” His voice tightened. “I wanted to forget Sand River and Carrie. I’ve never gone back.”

  She gasped. “Not even to see your family?”

  “No.” The familiar guilt hit him. Soon. Soon, he would be able to. “I talk to my mom on a weekly basis and usually my dad. My sister and I talk often. We keep in touch through Facebook and such.”

  Her lips pinched in a clear display of disapproval. “I can’t imagine leaving my family.”

  He sucked in a breath, her words cutting the still-healing wounds. “Guilt will do that to you, Dani. That’s why I want you to understand that Gramps wouldn’t have wanted you to hold on to it.”

  Their conversation had come full circle.

  Dani sighed. “I know you’re right, but I can’t shake it. I know it sounds small compared to what you went through, but I feel so guilty for putting work first all those times, especially this last one.”

  “You have to shake it, or it will eat you alive. It did to me for a decade, and probably would have continued on if not for Bryce and Gramps.” Determined that she understand, he pinned her with his gaze.

  “How did you finally let go of it?” When she asked her question, looking at him with doe-like eyes, his heart constricted.

  “Bryce and I got into a huge argument at the end of the Redemption tour. We both said things we regretted, but then we started talking.”

  “I can’t imagine what would cause you and Bryce to fight. Neither of you are the confrontational type.”

  “Why we were arguing doesn’t matter.” But it did. “I broke down and told him about Carrie, though, admittedly, it was done in a manner to make him feel guilty for what he’d said to me. The funny thing is, it opened doors, and our friendship is stronger because of the fight.”

  “You’ve both been through tragic events.”

  He nodded. “Yes, and he understood where I was coming from, because he’d been there. Different situations, but similar self-destructive reactions.”

  They started to walk again, going back to the porch and sitting in the rocking chairs. It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was beginning to lower. Their time to talk was ending, he’d have to get her back to the funeral home soon, but he needed to finish sharing.

  “Bryce didn’t have all the answers, but he told me what he could, and helped me to understand that we don’t always get answers. That was a hard thing for me to accept, but once I did, there was a freedom I hadn’t known in years. We talked long into the night, and the next morning, he had me call Gramps.” His feet pushed against the planks, causing the chair to rock.

  “And I’m sure Gramps was more than willing to talk.” Dani smiled at the mention again of her grandfather.

  “Oh yes. For two hours, in fact.” He laughed. “He was a wise man. The first thing he told me was to let go of my guilt. He said guilt has a purpose, to prick our conscience and keep us from repeating past grievances. Other than that, it does no good, and it’s an insult to the Lord to keep it up because if God can forgive us, who are we to not forgive ourselves?”

  “That does sound like something Gramps would say.” She rocked opposite of him.

  “Then I told him I wasn’t so sure I believed in God.”

  She gulped. “You didn’t? I can’t imagine anyone saying that to Gramps unless they wanted an earful.”

  “You’re right, but the thing was, I wanted an earful. Buried deep inside me, there was a part that still believed, but I’d lived with my anger and grief for so long that I couldn’t find my way out of it to admit that. I needed someone to call my bluff.” Wishing he had something to drink, he paused, his mouth dry. “Gramps was the first person in all those years not to placate me and explain away my behavior. By the time we hung up, he had prayed with me, and I knew I was done with fighting.”

  Reaching over, Dani gave his hand a quick squeeze. “I’m glad you had the chance to have that conversation with Gramps.”

  “Me, too.” His hand still tingled where Dani had touched it. “There are days when I still don’t understand and want to keep running, but now I know that although that single event changed my life, it doesn’t have to define my existence. I allowed it to for too long, but no more.”

  “How do you get through those days when you struggle?”

  He sensed she was asking for herself, for her own days ahead. “I’m still rusty at it, but I pray and cling to the promises God’s given us. Bryce gave me a version of a Bible he’s been reading that’s helped him a lot, and I’m trying to read daily, but especially on the rough days.” His feet stilled against the porch and he looked at her intently, with one arm resting on the chair’s arm. “I’m no paradigm of how to overcome grief, and certainly not on how to not lose faith, but I’m trying. Don’t make my mistakes, Dani.”

  Staring back, she also leaned toward him. “Thank you for telling me.”

  He hadn’t realized how close their chairs were. The proximity was too much. The air in his lungs constricted, and he jumped up. “It’s getting late. Think you’re ready to go back?”

  “Yes.” She stood, closing the space between them again.

  Mere inches separated them. It wouldn’t take much to bring her to him, kiss her like he’d been wanting to do for months. From the look on her face—the narrowed eyes, the lowered eyelashes—she wouldn’t stop an advance. He leaned forward, then stopped abruptly, short of touching her lips. What was he doing? If he had any chance of a future with her, they’d have to do this the right way.

  “I’m sorry.” Not by his own volition, but by a sheer force of nature, he stepped backward.

  “No, you’re right.” Her voice was even shakier than his. “Jeff…”

  He let out a long breath. “This past summer, I told you ‘in another time, another place’.”

  Lips pressed together, she tipped her chin. “I remember.”

  “I’m there.” Watching her, assessing her reaction, he finished. “If we can ever be there at the same time, I’d like that.”

  Her mouth formed a perfect O. A second later she spoke. “So would I.”

  A new peace filled him. If Dani and he were meant to have a relationship, it would happen. In a friendly gesture, he dropped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a smile. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 14

  Dani lifted her shoulder, swaying her purse back in place before it slid to the ground. She stuck her key into the lock, opened the door and stepped into Bayou Bits for the first time in a week. The faint smell of garlic and onion greeted her, the ever-present fragrance that never disappeared.

  She trailed a hand along the stainless steel counters as she walked through the kitchen. A lack of dust confirmed her suspicions that someone, Angela, had come in during the last day or so to clean. Sorrow pushed up from her stomach. She hadn’t expected her return to work to be so difficult. It was here she’d received the news, and here she’d wasted her last opportunity to see Gramps.

  “Help me, Lord,” she prayed aloud. Inhaling a deep breath, she made her way to the office. When she exhaled, a lock of hair that had fallen from her ponytail tickled her nose. She pushed it behind her ear then sank down into her chair and dropped her bag onto the floor beside the desk.

  A paper was stuck to the computer monitor, a note written in Angela’s handwriting.

  Don’t forget the truck will arrive at ten. I was able to persuade them to change their route to get here today.

  Bless her heart, Angela had been a lifesaver. Dani opened the folder her assistant had left on the desk and glanced through the pertinent information. She trusted Angela had been thorough, and no longer felt a compulsive need to go behind her and check that she’d procured everything necessary
to not run out of supplies. After the truck came in, she’d do her own inventory as she put away supplies, just to get herself back on track and throw away anything that had spoiled.

  Today was going to be a long Monday, even more so than most. Her to-do list ran the entire front and back of a typed sheet of paper. She had normal administrative tasks to complete, plus the backlog of being gone a week. Specials had to be planned, foods prepped, trucks unloaded and a handful of other things. She’d planned to work on some of it last night, but with family still in town, she’d chosen to spend time with them. From now on, family came before work.

  She tapped a pen she didn’t remember picking up against the desk. The items on the list weren’t going to cross off themselves. Reviewing the tasks ahead, she prioritized them and got busy. Soon, ten o’clock arrived and fifteen minutes later, the truck. The remainder of the morning passed quickly, for which she was grateful. She was in desperate need of distraction.

  At one, she stopped to eat a tuna sandwich she’d brought from home. As she ate, she took time to check her phone. Jeff had called and left a message, prompting a groan. She’d been avoiding him, using her family as an excuse. Their relationship was over. She knew without a doubt they were only meant to be friends. Telling him that, however, was a dreaded conversation, and something she didn’t want to deal with while still grieving Gramps.

  “Dani, are you here?” The voice came from the back door, still open from the delivery.

  “Gram? You could have come in.” Dani found her grandmother waiting for entry. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can’t I come visit my favorite granddaughter at her place of employment?” Gram came through the doorway.

  Dani laughed. “I’m your only granddaughter unless you count in-laws.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s really going on?”

  Gram looked at her, the usual sparkle in her eye gone. “I needed out of the house. I know everyone has the best of intentions at heart, but I’m smothered. Everywhere I go, everything I do, there’s someone there to do it for me.” She huffed. “You’d think I was crippled or an invalid the way they’re acting.”