Page 85 of In the Light of the Moon

“I—your granna’s having a hard night, and I’m not sure… I think it would help if you came home.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Sylvie

Ifound another few shards of glass under the corner of the fridge and swept them into the dustpan. Screaming and a heavy guitar solo filled my ears, but I swore I could still hear the tinkling of the remnants of the pitcher Granna threw on the floor. Well, to hear her tell it, she’d dropped it. That Roz was overreacting. She was just stressed out, was all.

When Roz had turned to leave, thinking she’d been the trigger for the episode, Granna surprised us both by giving her a hard hug. Granna held her best friend for a long time and told her that she loved her. That she was the best friend she’d ever had.

Granna had quickly pulled away, tears in her eyes, but said nothing else to either of us before trudging outside to tend to her garden. In the dark.

I’d turned on the lights that lit that side of the house so that she’d at least be able to see what she was doing, and she stayed out there for a long time. I knew that her garden gave her such joy, but it was also very cold, especially for someone thatthreatened to freeze in the slightest draft. But when I urged her to come inside for some tea and time reading on the couch, her usual nighttime routine, she refused.

I’d kept one ear out of my headphones while I cleaned the kitchen that was… a mess. My usually tidy grandmother had cooked large pots of her Samhain stew and other random dishes and set out on a personal project to label everything in the kitchen. Roz had caught her mid-organization, she’d asserted. That she was almost done and would clean everything up, but she got frustrated, then mad, and then the pitcher had just slipped out of her hands.

When I asked her why she’d made all that food, she said that she needed enough for everyone.

I dumped the contents of the dustpan into the trash while my music changed to a poppy indie song. My head bopped along while I wiped down the counters again and waited for the water to boil for some tea.

It was the middle of the day, but by the creaking in the floor I’d heard earlier, Granna was just now waking up. She’d been despondent last night, apologizing to me before retreating into her bedroom, but when she finally made her way downstairs now, her eyes widened at the sight of the clean kitchen before she immediately collected herself.

Granna was dressed in a simple turtleneck sweater and jeans, and her hair was brushed smooth and loose down her back. She’d grown paler with the colder months, but her brown skin was still warm against the cool gray of her hair and the green of her sweater.

I shoved my headphones to my neck, and cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if you’d want to finish decorating for Yule? Josie will be over in a few hours, Orion a little while after that, and then we can all have some of the stew you made?”

Granna looked at me. Really looked. She worried at her bottom lip while running her eyes over my face, down to my feet.

And then she started crying.

In any other situation, I would’ve immediately started crying and rushed to the other person. Granna had always said that I had a sensitive heart—like it was something to love and pity because it would leave me feeling raw from other people’s emotions just as much as my own.

But I’d never seen Granna cry. Not when she talked about my mother, not when I was sad, not even when we watched sad movies.

“Sweetheart, I—” she roughly swatted at her cheeks to clear the tears “—I have very much enjoyed having you here. Being your grandmother has been the joy of my life. You’ve grown to be more amazing than any of us hoped.” She took a deep breath that turned into a gasp before smoothing out, “Your mother would be so, so proud. And I know that you’ll go on to do and be so much more. I love you more than I ever thought possible.” By the end, her words were little more than a hoarse whisper. She wiped at her eyes again, and I realized that I was tearing up, too.

Unease. Panic. Dread. They were churning so fast in my chest, that I felt like I couldn’t breathe. This and the hug with Roz all felt like… a goodbye.

“I love you too, Granna.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” she walked to me, and I somehow managed to collapse into her much smaller frame. She sniffed, “I just wanted to make sure you knew. I’d been so flustered when you called asking to move in.” She chuckled thickly, “I nearly told you to just visit a spell and go back, but I’m so glad I couldn’t do it. These past few months have been marvelous. All because of you.”

Another torrent of tears spilled down my face and soaked into her sweater. “Granna… I’m so glad to be here with you. AndI’m so sorry for all the years I wasn’t. All the times I visited only to hang out with friends or go off on my own, I?—”

“Shh, sweetheart,” she patted my back, “none of that. I’ve never been upset with you for living your life. Because I’ve always… I’ve always lived mine. If anyone needs to forgive anyone, it’s you.”

I pulled back and frantically searched her face. Even lined with years, I saw the origin of mine and my mother’s. My eye color was hers, as was the shape of my jaw and brows. But where my eyes and lips were round, hers were more angular. Her nose was sharp where mine wasn’t. For a second, I got caught up imagining what my grandfather must’ve looked like. How many of my features were his?

But I mustered up the courage to ask the thing that I needed to. It felt like black sludge on my tongue, but I finally croaked, “Granna… are you going to hurt yourself?” She’d been doing so well. The slips in memories were normal for people her age, but the sentimental words for someone who, all her life, had been decidedly unsentimental, wasn’t just jarring. A thousand alarm bells were going off in my head.

Her head cocked into a confused tilt, but I saw the moment my meaning dawned on her. The rest of her tears cleared, and she smiled. “No, sweetheart. I’m sorry again for scaring you. I just needed you to know all of this. To let you know that no matter what happens, I have loved you with all of my heart. And that I hope you’ll one day… forgive this old lady for her mistakes.”

If she wanted me to believe that she wasn’t giving deathbed confessions, she was doing a shit job. I didn’t say that, though. Maybe I was too scared by the possibility of her leaving, so I just took her assertion that she wasn’t going to hurt herself because it felt safer.

Before I could say anything else, she ran a hand over my curls and asked, “How about we start decorating? That was a good idea.” And she looked almost back to normal. Enough to at least placate my cracking heart. I nodded. A cozy night in with my favorite people sounded like just what I needed.

“Dude, I don’t know how you’re wearing that. It’s cold asmytit out here. Ha! Get it?” Josie laughed at her own lame joke while we crunched through the snow. It wasn’t a terribly thick layer under the cover of the trees, but it was enough where our progress was slowed.

I shrugged and stuck my hands into the convenient pockets of my new dress. My trusty knife was a comforting weight beside my hand, even if we were using garden shears for our foraging instead. My coat over it wasn’t nearly as thick as Josie’s, but I was more than warm enough with it and the boots on my feet.

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