Page 80 of The Friendly Fall

“Your dad wasn’t born until I was nearly twenty-five,” Granny remarks, before continuing the story. “Naturally, I was really nervous about getting married, too, so I was harder on him about it than I should’ve been. I interpreted his nervousness to mean he didn’t want to marry me at all, and I laid into him, right there in the malt shop. I told him that if he didn’t want to marry me, he should just say so. Well … because your Pops was the type to go quiet when he got upset, he never saidanything, one way or another.”

I cringe, thinking about the stress that probably caused them. “So, what did he do?”

“He told me he had some things he needed to do and took me home. I just about went crazy for the next few days.” Granny giggles at the memory “And we didn’t have all this technology you kids have today. I couldn’t just call him up on a cell phone and check in on him. He didn’t even use his landline.”

“I would’ve gone crazy, too,” I say, taking another bite.

Granny grins. “I started feeling so bad for laying into him like I did … and I got tired of waiting to hear from him. So, I convincedmy dad to let me borrow his truck for an afternoon, and I went on a hunt.”

I laugh, trying to imagine my Granny as a young woman on a mission to find her fiancé. Somehow, my brain conjures up a younger version wearing the same eccentric clothing. “Where did you find him?”

She sighs. “He was at his house, trying to build a bedroom set for us. I guess it was supposed to be a surprise, but when I got there, he couldn’t hide it. I told him I was sorry for laying into him the way I did, and you know what he did?”

“What?”

“Nothing. He just shrugged, told me it was okay, and went back to working on the bedroom set. I’d spent all that time all worked up for no reason at all. Now, don’t get me wrong, I think your Pops was definitely bent out of shape over the whole thing, because he never went more than a day without seeing me.”

I tilt my head, swallowing the last bite of my casserole. “But he just didn’t want to admit it?”

“No, I don’t think that was it, either. I think he just … wasn’t the kind to talk about it. After I came over, everything was fine, so he wasn’t going to worry about it. I don’t know, really. But he was always like that.”

“Dad’s not like that,” I say thoughtfully, thinking of the way my father hasheseverythingout.

“That’s because your daddy is like me. We’ve got to talk and talk and talk until we feel better.”

“I don’t think I’m like that.” I pick up the cookie, noticing the melted chocolate smeared across my finger. “I think I’m somewhere in between.”

“I think you’re a lot like your mama, Eliza Kate. Your mama is a strong, stubborn, and sweet woman. I was really happy for your father when he brought her home. She’s the perfect balance, and that’s what I think you are.”

I smile softly. “Thanks, Granny. I just hope that this works out.” My eyes drift back to the stack of wood. “I don’t really know what I’m doing, and I think that shows. My imagination is much larger than my skill set.”

Granny glances over to the pile and then back to the plans. “Well, you know, Ididspend a lot of time out here in the workshop with your Pops…”

Nowthatsurprises me.

“Do you know how to run all these tools?”

Granny bursts into a fit of laughter, the bells attached to her sweater jingling as her shoulders bounce. “Oh, Eliza, you have no idea of the things I know how to do.”

“So is that a yes?” I start to get excited, because help is exactly what I need.

“I’ll help you finish this thing. I’m so proud of you for starting, and I’m more than happy to lend a hand.” Granny smooths out her jeans and sweater, standing to her feet. She leans over the plans, squinting down the cut list.

“You got all these measurements exact, right?”

“Um, I think so,” I say carefully, suddenly second guessing everything I’ve done so far. “They’re at least very close. Idoknow how to read a tape measure.”

“Perfect,” she nods. “Then let’s get started.”

I grin, finishing the rest of my cookie and standing to my feet to join her. We spend the rest of the evening hammering, drilling, and laughing. I find out that Granny knows alotabout tools—and just building things in general. In fact, I’m certain that she could’ve built her own ramp.

We work into the night, and by the time the new workbench is complete, it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning. I still have to paint or stain it, but the bench itself is done, complete with hooks to hang his tools. I wipe my brow using my bandana, fatigue creeping into my body. Granny is chugging some water with a big grin on her face, not even phased by the late night—not that I let her do much of the heavy work.

“It looks great,” Granny comments, patting me on the back. “I’m proud of you.”

“There’s no way I would’ve gotten this done without you.” I pull her into a side embrace. “I would’ve been out here for weeks.”

“Oh no, you wouldn’t have, but I was more than happy to tell ya what to do. You still did it all mostly yourself. You don’t have to tell Nick that I helped you.” She shoots me a wink that makes me giggle.

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