Page 40 of Embracing Trust

I could just lift my dress and let him…

He pulls away from me and sits up on the couch. He grabs my hand and pulls me to sit. He wipes his mouth, still panting. His eyes are wild with desire and the strap of my dress is still off my shoulder.

I clear my throat. “Why’d you stop?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to rush you or make you think this is some one-night thing.” He lets out a deep breath. “I want to see you again.”

“I’d like that too.” My reply comes out breathless.

He holds out his arms and I go to him. He holds me and we continue kissing, somehow managing to keep our hands on the outside of our clothes.

We never get around to the tour of my house. I can’t remember the last time I spent hours kissing someone.

After he leaves, I stand in the shower for a long time. The house feels exceptionally warm or maybe it’s just me. I dress in my usual bedtime attire—a tank top and boy shorts.

Once I’m in bed, my thoughts are consumed with what happened and what almost happened. I was disappointed when he pulled away from me. Would I have stopped? I’m not sure. I wanted nothing more at that moment than for him to take me—to take me to a place we’ve never been before. I wanted him to claim me.

Chapter Eighteen

Ryan

Finola McCormick. I don’t know how to describe her. Nola is cool grandma extraordinaire. She’s a savvy, rosy-cheeked, garden-loving, pop-culture-knowing funny lady. She loves her family. She was married to Grandpa for over 60 years. He has since passed, but Grandma still talks about him and tells funny stories about their youth in Ireland. They came to the U.S. shortly after they were married. Grandpa worked in a factory while Grandma stayed at home caring for the McCormick brood of three boys (my dad was number 3 in the mix) plus one girl—who Grandma says was her challenge. Michael, Ronan, Cullen, and Eileen made up the family of Grandpa and Grandma.

When we pull into Grandma Nola’s driveway, Julia’s excitement is obvious in her smile.

“Grandma Nola? You’re right. Thisisa surprise.”

Before we’re even out of the car, my grandma appears at the front door in her usual attire—blue jeans and a t-shirt. She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel and steps onto the porch.

“Ryan and Julia,” she grins and waves. She steps down off the porch and greets us on the walk.

I wrap my arms around her small frame. “Grandma,” I say as I keep her in my embrace. “Of course, you remember Julia Crandall.”

Grandma takes Julia into her arms, and they hug. “Who can forget this beauty?” Grandma’s eyes squint as her smile lights up her face.

“Thanks for having us.”

Grandma took a liking to Julia the first time they met at a McCormick family outing. It was Memorial Day. Dad grilled burgers and Mom had every side dish imaginable—all my favorites. Besides Grandma Nola, all five of my brothers were there.

It had been a few months since my oldest brother Sean had been home from the hospital. When I was sixteen and he was twenty, a motorcycle accident almost took his life. Lucky to be alive, he ended up with nerve damage to his left leg. He was in a bad place since the accident, and I remember Grandma Nola and Julia bringing a bright spot to the tension between my parents and my oldest brother.

After the hugs, Grandma invites us inside. The small three-bedroom mid-century modern house is just as I remember it while I was growing up. The hardwood floors gleam in the sunlight streaming through the large picture window and the sweet aroma of fresh baked goods wafts from the kitchen. The antique mantle clock is still proudly displayed on the fireplace. I grin to myself at the old oak rocking chair in the corner. Sometimes it was used for our time-outs and other times Grandma liked to rock us and tell us stories of her days in Ireland. And just like I remember, Grandma’s sewing basket sits on a small footstool next to the couch along with her latest project.

Julia helps Grandma prepare lunch and more memories abound as the familiar plates and drinking glasses are placed on the table.

As always, Grandma loves to talk about her memories of us growing up.

“And this one,” Grandma points her fork in my direction, “he was such a happy baby. Never cried much. And then Mr. Patrick came along and those two were thick as thieves practically from the day Patrick came home from the hospital.”

Julia grins and pops a chip into her mouth.

Grandma continues with a chuckle. “What one didn’t get into, the other did. I don’t know how your mother did it with the four of you little rascals. Besides you and Patrick, Sean and Aidan also took her attention. But she raised all of you and I think y’all grew up to be fine young men. I love all six of my grandsons.”

After lunch, Julia and I help Grandma put the food away and tidy up her kitchen.

She invites us to her backyard and gives us a tour of her gardens. She has both a flower garden and a vegetable garden. It’s truly amazing how passionate she is about her tomatoes. As we walk through the many rows of her varieties of vegetables, the warm summer sun shines on her once fair skin that is now weathered from her obvious time in the gardens. She appears to be happy and content. I miss these simple days spent with Grandma and if only I could turn back time to when I didn’t feel overwhelmed so much of the time.

Grandma insists we have dessert before we leave. We finish out our visit with chocolate silk pie and homemade iced tea on the patio. I love listening as Grandma and Julia talk and connect. Julia is the only girl I’ve ever brought to Grandma’s, but according to my brothers, this little lady has scrutinized more than a few of the McCormick dates that have passed through her door of 617 West Elm Street. And not every girl passed the Grandma test. I’m disappointed I missed that.

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