Page 90 of Embracing Trust

I slip into the kitchen and answer the call. When I finish and come back out to the living room, Grandma is still on the couch. She looks at me expectantly.

I let out a breath and my hands shake. My head falls back. What a relief.

“That was my attorney. He just got the paperwork. They’ll be serving Aubree for the DNA test.”

“It’s a start,” Grandma says, her tone hopeful. “Just know that you don’t have to sit around and sell insurance if that’s not what you want.”

I groan. “That isn’t at all what I want.” I plop down next to Grandma on the couch.

“When your father had six sons, he had big dreams of adding each one of you to the agency, but that’s not what any one of you has wanted.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“Pfft.” Grandma shakes her head. “Even if he doesn’t like it, you have to do what’s right for you. Your dad may grump around about it a bit, but he’ll get over it. I can say that truthfully, he’d rather see you boys doing what makes you happy than forcing you to work at his insurance company.”

I wonder if we’re talking about the same guy.

“It sounds like you have some people you need to talk to, yeah? To get your life moving forward.”

“I don’t know what to do about Julia.” I sigh and rub the back of my neck.

“You’ll need to give her some time. I imagine she’s pretty angry right now.”

“Of course, who can blame her? After the whole thing went down with Aubree at Mom and Dad’s, I followed Julia home and—”

Grandma perks up. “Oh, what did she say?”

“She wouldn’t talk much. She locked herself in her house. Refused to come out. When I tried to explain, she pretty much told me to hit the bricks.”

“You’re going to have to give her some time.”

“What if I can’t ever get her to listen to me?” My shoulders slump.

“I know the Irish in you doesn’t give you much patience, my boy, but you’re going to have to let some time pass on this one.”

“I can’t lose her.”

“You’re going to have to show her…not only that you’re sorry, but that you’ve changed. That you’ve changed not only for you but for her too.”

“I don’t know how to do that.”

“I think you’re doing it now. Therapy and getting to the bottom of the paternity. You know, getting control of your own life. As long as you let those ghosts from war haunt you—”

“Then I can’t move forward.”

“Exactly.”

“Thanks for the tea and the advice. I better get going.”

We rise from the couch, and she wraps her arms around me. “Ryan, you’re a good boy. A smart boy. I want you to go home and put your plans into action. Get yourself strong again and then go out and get the lifeyoureally want—the life you deserve.”

“Thanks, Grandma. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

When I pull away from Grandma’s house, I leave with a sense of purpose—a sense of courage that I didn’t feel only hours ago. Grandma has always been the matriarch of the family and the glue that has held us together. When I was 14, my brother Sean—who was 19 at the time—had a serious motorcycle accident that almost killed him. Of course, Mom and Dad blamed themselves for his ‘out of control behavior,’ but it was mostly Sean being Sean. Grandma Nola came to the rescue and patched things up between Sean and the folks. He’d been drinking that night and thankfully, the accident didn’t involve any other automobiles or people. He paid his fines, did his probation, and went on to be a successful doctor. He still walks with a limp and has permanent nerve damage to his left leg—a constant reminder of a few bad choices.

Mom and Dad have obviously forgiven him, but Mom still holds some sort of guilt over the whole ordeal. She says it’s part of being a mom—having guilt over everything that goes wrong with your kids.

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