Page 65 of Luck of the Devil
After several seconds, he released me and grabbed my shoulders, leaning me back. “Let me look at you.” His sharp eyes scanned my face, then he lifted a hand to my cheek. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“How did you know it was me? Grandma didn’t recognize me.”
“I’d know you anywhere,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. “My little Harper all grown up.”
I hated that I was about to kill their joy with the news about Mom. I wasn’t ready to tell them, not when they were both so happy to see me, but they’d be justifiably angry if I spent time talking to them, then half an hour later said, “Oh, by the way. Your daughter is dead.”
My stomach felt heavy, but I forced myself to say, “Grandma’s inside, maybe we should go in so I can talk to you both at the same time.”
He nodded and put a hand at the small of my back and ushered me to the back door.
“Shirley!” he called out as we entered through the back. “Can you believe it? Harper’s here!” He stopped short when he saw Malcolm sitting on the sofa next to my grandmother’s chair, but then he winked at me, a cheesy grin stretching across his face. “You brought a young man with you.”
I nearly laughed at him calling Malcolm a young man, but I supposed he was compared to my grandparents. “Grandpa, this is my friend?—”
Malcolm stood and took a step toward us, extending his hand. “James Malcolm, sir. I’d like to thank you and your wife for having me in your home.”
My grandfather shook his hand and looked pleased. “I like a man with a firm handshake,” he said when he dropped his grip on Malcolm’s hand. “If you’re a friend of Harper’s, you’re welcome here.”
Malcolm gave me an honest-to-God grin, and I wondered who the hell this man was and where the James Malcolm I knew had gone.
“Thank you, Mr. Langford.”
“You can call me Gary, James,” my grandfather said as he moved across the living room to sit in his recliner on the opposite side of the room. He sat down but didn’t recline back, watching me in amazement instead. “We always hoped one day you’d change your mind, but I confess, I’d decided years ago that it wasn’t likely to happen.”
I took a seat next to Malcolm on the sofa and gave my grandfather a confused look. “Change my mind?”
“About seeing us.” When I still looked puzzled, pain flashed in his eyes. “Your mother made it clear you didn’t want to see us. We’d hoped it was just a phase, but when she told us we weren’t welcome at your high school graduation because you didn’t want us there…” He took a breath to compose himself. “It broke our hearts, and right or wrong, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to try again.”
I slowly shook my head. “Grandpa, I never said that.” When he still looked hurt, I said, “I never said I didn’t want you there. Mom said she invited you, but you and grandma said you couldn’t come. That you had other plans. She told me you didn’t want to see me.”
His face reddened and his jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”
My mother had purposely kept us apart. Why?
Grandma sniffed and I turned to see that she’d started to cry.
“Grandma, I swear. I never, ever said I didn’t want to see you. I know you and Dad had some kind of falling out, and that you made Mom choose between you and him, and she chose him. I figured I was just collateral damage.”
“Falling out with your father?” Grandma said, shaking her head. “What falling out?”
I stared at her in disbelief, then swung my attention to my grandfather. He didn’t look confused. He looked angry.
Had everything been a lie?
“Mom and Dad said you blamed Dad for Andi’s death, and you all stopped speaking because Mom was furious at you.”
He clenched his jaw. “I think I’m gonna need something to drink to continue this conversation.” Then he got up and walked into the kitchen.
I looked over at Malcolm who was watching me with concern, which caught me off guard as much as the conversation I’d just had. Malcolm had never shown concern for me. Irritation, condescension, understanding, but never concern. Not even the night before, when he’d helped nurse me through my withdrawal. I’d known he was worried given the way he’d nursed me, but he hadn’t shown it. His lack of concern seemed like a cornerstone to our relationship. He never treated me like I was fragile.
The hard truth was that I was fragile, as hard at that was for me to accept. I’d always prided myself on being strong, no matter what, but if I were honest with myself, I’d been fragile for a hell of a lot longer than a couple of days.
My grandfather returned a half second later, carrying a tray with three juice glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
My stomach dropped with dread, while another part of me lit up in anticipation of the warmth sliding down my throat and spreading through my body.
Grandpa set the tray on the coffee table and then grabbed the whiskey bottle and twisted off the cap. He poured a finger of liquid into the cup closest to Malcolm, but when he turned it toward the cup in front of me, somehow, I managed to reach up and cover the opening. “None for me.” Everything in me screamed to grab the bottle from his hand and fill my glass half full, but the stubborn part of me held strong.
