Page 49 of A Night to Remember

On the phoneI’d told my grandmother that I was bringingThe Girl with the Anklewith me to pick up the dried-flower bouquets she had made for Hungry Hearts. Even though there are many girls in the world and it’s probably safe to say that most of them have ankles, Grandma had instantly known who I meant.

I had been on my way toherhouse years ago when I pulled Kayla out of that ditch; later, as I helped her wash dishes, I hadspilled my guts about how amazing Kayla was and how happy I’d been that she’d let me help her.

“Death is coming, Gabriel,” she’d said by way of terrifying encouragement. “You had better ask this girl out.” I knew she never understood why I didn’t; I knew what that eyebrow raise meant when I introduced her to Gretchen. I knew, too, that I had to stop her from matter-of-factly planning a wedding the instant Kayla walked through her door.

“She’s skittish,” I had explained. “And I don’t know how much she really likes me, you know,that way.”

“Does she know that you like herthat way?”

“Um… probably?” I replied, wincing on my end of the line. Probably not. But Kayla would run screaming for northeastern Missouri’s non-existent hills if I told her I love her. Grandma sighed loudly.

“Gabriel. How many times have I told you? Death?—”

“I know, I know. Just play it cool tonight, okay? Part of the problem is that she thinks our family won’t like her.”

“Is she unlikable?”

“No! She’s very likable! She’s just, um, not one of the fifteen.”

“Who gives a crap about?—”

“Dad. Mom. Adam.”

“Ah. Well. Don’t worry aboutthem. We’ll get this sorted out.”

Needless to say I’m as nervous as Kayla as we drive out of town to visit her. I’m gambling that Kayla will like Grandma; I have a hunch that no-nonsense old women are her jam. And I want to show her that not everyone in my family is an insufferable snob. She needs to know that I’m not ashamed of her and that shecouldfit in if she wanted to.

But I’m also praying that Grandma won’t put her too much on the spot, because that could end very, very badly.

“You’ll like her,” I tell Kayla, hoping that saying so will magically make it true. “She’ll like you.”

“How do you know?” Kayla shoots back. “Are we the same astrological sign or something?”

“Oh! Maybe! Your birthday is in December, right?”

She turns to me with an expression that either meanswhy do you know thatorwhy don’t you know that. “December 27th,” she replies stiffly.

“Grandma is early January, I think, so that would make you both…”

“Capricorns. Capricorns are stubborn jerks who hate other people.”

“Johnson. You don’t hate other people.”

“So I’m a stubborn jerk?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Well, if the shoe fits…” She whacks me hard on the shoulder, but she’s smiling.

Finally Grandma’s nineteenth-century farmhouse comes into view. It’s a white two-story Victorian with a wrap-around porch. Massive oaks and maples dot the front lawn, sheltering the house from the wind. It’s not as grand as the house I grew up in, but I’ve always thought it was prettier.

As soon as we step out of the car, a filthy border collie jumps all over me.

“Who’s this?” Kayla asks with a smile, bending to coax the dog over to her. He doesn’t need much encouragement; within seconds he’s orbiting around both of us in a frantic ellipse, getting pets from whoever’s closest.

“Bello,” I reply.

“He’s an excellent watchdog,” Kayla deadpans. “Very wary of strangers.”

“Gabriel!” Grandma calls from the porch. “And this must be?—”

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