Page 23 of The Escape Plan

Gramps is already settled in a rocking chair, looking almost comical in his over-the-ear Beats by Dre headphones that Ezra and I gifted him for his birthday. In order to hear his audiobooks better, of course.

When he sees us, he smiles, and his wrinkled face lights up.

Everett squirms out of my arms and runs over to him, arms outstretched. “Grandpa Great!”

“Try not to break the old man, my dude,” Ez mutters as Everett practically leaps onto his great-grandfather.

But Gramps just laughs good-naturedly and ruffles Everett’s hair before he slips off his headphones.

We all take it in turns to greet him, and Grandpa smiles at each of us before turning adoring eyes back on Everett, who is now on the floor, playing with Grandpa’s shoelaces.

“Very nice boy you’ve got there,” he tells Ezra, his eyes going a little misty. “I once knew a boy like that, a long time ago.”

I smile gently. Everett has a similar aura to Ezra’s when he was a little boy, and I wonder if Gramps means Ezra—or even my dad, his only son—when he says this.

“Thanks. We’re super proud of him.” Ezra beams at his boy.

“As you should be. He’s going to be a strapping young man, Ben.”

Ezra and I both stiffen slightly and exchange a look. Then, Ez gently pats Grandpa’s shoulder. “I’m Ezra, Gramps. Ben’s your son, my dad.”

“Oh.” He blinks up at Ezra, his eyes unfocused for a moment. “That’s right.”

My brother pastes on a smile. “Are you hungry? Keeley brought us breakfast sandwiches.”

Gramps nods. “I haven’t eaten since last night. Pork chops and green beans.”

“Sounds delicious,” I say with my very own pasted-on smile. I know for a fact that Grandpa would have been served coffee and oatmeal this morning, as well as a post-dinner snack of muffins and fruit last night.

Gramps has dementia. He was diagnosed a couple of years ago, and his forgetfulness has been growing slowly but steadily worse. And while he’s still his wonderful old self in so many ways, I miss the relationship we had in my younger years, when he justgotme.

During the early stages of the illness, my dad worked with him to get his affairs in order while he could still clearly dictate what he wanted. He updated his will and picked out Silver Springs as the place he wanted to eventually live.

And then, one day, Gramps took me for a walk in Oldford Park. On this walk, he slipped a little black velvet bag out of his pocket and placed it into my hand with a squeeze.

“This is for you, Keeley,” he said, eyes shining with what looked like tears. “Remember, my sweet girl, a light heart gives a long life, and in order to keep your heart light and free of burdens and baggage, remember to listen to it when it speaks. Don’t let circumstances dictate what your heart wants, but rather, let your heart shape your circumstances.”

I had no idea what any of this meant, but I hugged him tight, and when I got home, I opened the pouch to find a ring that featured a heart and a crown, with strange engraved writing in a foreign language inside.

It was a woman’s ring, and it fit me perfectly.

The obvious explanation was that it had once belonged to my grandmother, who had passed away before I was born. But for some reason, I didn’t think that was the case.

The ring felt like a secret Gramps was somehow sharing with me. A secret written in code that he hoped I would one day decipher.

I’d never met anyone else who had one like it… until last night.

I look down at it now, glinting on my middle finger, and spin it around.

Claddagh rings,Beckett called them. I vaguely knew the name of my ring, but never really thought about it, or the fact that it would’ve come from Ireland.

I make a mental note to look them up at some point and turn my attention back to the table, where Mae is telling Grandpa about the trip they took to Korea a few months ago.

I’m about to take a bite of my bagel when my phone rings, buzzing on the table in front of me.

Freya, the display reads.

Of course she’s working on a Sunday.

---