Page 79 of Marrying the Gardener
Human. If only I’d been raised as a human instead of as a man’s least favorite tool. It’s going to be sonicenot having to juggle a hundred social engagements once I no longer am required to babysit my father’s clients. I’ll be able to embrace clients of my own, the right way, with the humanity I used to manufacture for him.
I wish gaining my freedom weren’t so bittersweet.
“I can try to rely on you more, after all this,” I say, curling my legs up closer as I stop hugging myself in order to hug Kaleb. “I don’t know what that looks like, but I’ll try.”
“I love you, Crimson. I want the very best for you. Always.”
Smothering my face against him, I immediately fail to put relying on him into practice. Because—if I’m honest—I think I love him, too. I just don’t know how to confess that without feeling like I’m giving up an entire chunk of myself.
Which, of course, is probably the point.
Chapter 25
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The price of freedom.
Crimson
In days, if everything goes to plan, I’ll be free. In days. Mere…days.
The thick scent of rubbing alcohol burns my nose as I close the hospital room door behind me. I’m the last in a series of goodbyes, and I’m not entirely sure why I’m bothering. I don’t know if my grandfather cares to see me. I don’t know if I truly care to see him, or if some sort of twisted obligation propelled me to raise my hand when my father asked if there was anyone else who wanted their time.
Despite the open windows on the other side of the room, it’s dark and cold in here. A cabinet holding a dormant TV rests across from the bed, which has a single chair beside it.
I approach that chair and silently slip down against the plastic seat.
“You look like your mother,” my grandfather murmurs.
I bite my lip to hold my emotions at bay. It’s not often I hear anything about my mother, and my grandfather is the last person I’d expect to bring her up.
He continues, “She was a terrible match for Jared. I said so. But he didn’t want to listen to me about it. He didn’t want to marry someone in our social class. And look where it got him.” My grandfather takes a labored breath. “Now…look at you…following in your father’s footsteps.”
My flesh bristles at the mere notion, and I lower my eyes in case hatred sparks in them.
“I like Kaleb. Bright boy. He’s gonna go places, so don’t you hold him back, you hear me?”
Rage simmers, complicated, subdued. Why did I come in here? Do I really like abuse that much? Swallowing hard, I say, “I’ll support him. However I can. I promise.”
Gold catches in the dim light when my grandfather smiles, and he reaches a weak hand out to pat mine. “You’re the only girl in my family who came to say goodbye to me during these past weeks, Crimson.” His eyes glass as his smile teeters and falls. “None of my daughters care about me. None of their son’s wives ever considered me as their grandfather. But Jared raised you well. With respect.”
Becauserespectin the form of submission is all women are good for according to you.
“When my great grandbaby comes, you raise him right, too. Stay in shape. Eat healthy.” He grips my hand. “Do not abandon Kaleb like your mother abandoned your father.”
My lashes flutter, damp, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I’m not delusional enough to believe my father loved my mother in any way that mattered. At no point in my childhood did he ever speak kindly of her. She was weak, because she died doing the one thing women are born to do. I was given no time to want a mother. I was reminded—often—that Ava was not my mother, even if she was the one who fed and clothed me.
Still, the idea ofabandoningsomeone strikes something andhurts. “I won’t,” I whisper.
He nods, sharply. “He’s a good man. And behind every good man is a good woman. You’re not too sensitive. You know how to take a joke. You’re kind and nurturing. You’re a good woman, Crimson. Stay behind him. Be his strength. Raise a family. Know that as far as I’m concerned—” He dips his head toward my midsection. “—my legacy continues with you. Yours is the onlyline of the Nightingale name that I claim. Do me proud.”
Do him proud.
By standing in the shadow of someone we both met a month ago?
All the men in my family really, really have a funny sense ofpride.
Nevertheless, I rise, bend, and touch a kiss to his forehead, murmuring, “I will.”
