Page 93 of Shadow and Skulls

“Sickening, isn’t it?”

He laughs. “To some … to others it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

I smile. “The balance of life.”

“I’m sorry about your mama. How are you doing?” he asks, taking his hat off to scratch at his brow.

“I’m good. I grieved the loss of her long ago.”

We look over at my parents. They’re still holding each other.

“I’m sorry about Grandma.”

When I turn back, I notice he’s twirling a stick between his fingers. He stops the swing with his heel and holds it out for me to take.

“Your grandmother was holding this when she passed. She said that the man who gave it to her was going to marry her granddaughter.”

My thoughts trip on the word granddaughter. “She … she really said granddaughter?” I cry, snagging the branch from him and cradling it to my chest. My grandmother never called me … well, she never called me anything. I don’t think I was around her enough for any part of me to stick in her mind. Or at least that’s what I had thought.

He nods, chuckling lightly. “I’m glad to hear that it wasn’t more of her crazy ramblings, because she also told me she’d be waiting for me on the other side.”

I wipe my eyes. “Did … did Dad hear her?”

His gaze roams over my shoulder to where my parents stand. “No, honey. She waited until your mom and dad fell asleep. It was just her and me at the end.”

“Like it should be.”

I offer him a small smile, sitting down beside him. I place my palm over his heart. There are no words to comfort him. He drops his face and stares at my hand. He takes a deep breath.

“One love story ends and one begins,” he says quietly.

My hand presses harder against his chest in an attempt to keep his heart from breaking any further.

“Don’t worry, honey. This old thing is going to keep beating a while longer. I’ve got a little living yet to do,” he assures me.

My dad yells at me that he’s ready. Grandpa releases my hand. “Bring me back a hot fudge sundae.”

I nod before stepping away.

Dad asks me what I said to put a smile on Grandpa’s face.

“It wasn’t me. It’s her. Even though she’s gone, she’ll always be with him.”

He looks away, remaining quiet for the rest of the drive.

Thirty minutes later, Dad and I are sitting across from each other with spoons in our hands, shoving ice cream in our mouths. I glance out the window, remembering my first encounter with Tank. That seems so long ago. So much has changed since then.

I look at my dad. He’s deep in thought. “Tell me about her.”

He looks up from his dish. “Who? Your grandma?”

My legs curl under me, and I lean onto the table. “No. I knew Grandma. I want you to tell me about your mom.”

He looks around the room, avoiding my eyes again.

“If you tell me about yours, I’ll tell you about mine,” I singsong.

His gaze finally lands on me, and he grunts. “You’re too much like your mother.”

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