Page 81 of Waiting for Devon
“No. Take me on Simply Red,” she insisted.
“Grammy, I don’t think…” Jackson began doubtfully.
Devon tossed aside her cane. “Do as I say, Jackson.”
Jackson lifted his dainty grandmother into the saddle and swung aloft behind her. Moving Simply Red into a slow walk, it took nearly a half hour to reach Reed Barrington’s log cabin. Through the years, nothing about it had changed. Tears filled Devon’s eyes as she recalled the steak dinner Reed had prepared for her the first time he’d brought her to the cabin. Memories of the fiery kisses they’d shared, forbidden kisses when she was pretending to be engaged to his brother Shane, making love with him, leaving him the morning after… Devon turned toward Jackson, and she began to tell him a story, a story he’d heard before but never told with such passion.
Devon’s voice had grown hoarse by the time she brought her tale to its conclusion. “I almost died giving birth to your father, Taylor. My first husband, Jack, insisted on delivering the baby himself when he learned of the danger I faced. I know that sounds odd, but your namesake and I and your grandfather remained good friends throughout our lives until cancer took him from us the year you were born. Your father honored Jack’s memory by naming you after him.”
She gripped her grandson’s hand tightly as her eyes glazed and a faraway expression appeared on her face. Looking straight ahead, she murmured, “He’s here. My love has come for me at last. He says it’s time to go.” She turned toward Jackson. “A woman is waiting to steal your heart and soul, Jackson. She’s tall, proud, and beautiful with long dark hair and brilliant emerald eyes.”
His grandmother smiled mysteriously. “Oh, I see you’ve already met her. She’s sad, lost, and lonely, but she will love you madly and fiercely. Her name…is…Lily.Lily Stone…” Devon closed her eyes and shuddered as she drew a harsh breath. “I’m coming, my love. I’m coming…” Reed’s name left her lips in a loving, wistful sigh as she took her last breath.
Jackson felt his grandmother’s hand release her grip on his, and he stared disbelievingly at her for a moment while he tried to grasp what had just happened. He gently shook her, crying her name, but did not receive a response. When he did not feel a pulse, he set her down onto the floor and immediately began CPR, however, it was too late. His beloved grandmother, who was alive and vibrantly talking with him only a moment ago, was gone. Just gone. In the blink of an eye. White-hot pain ripped through Jackson as he held his grandmother in his arms and bawled like a baby. When he eventually regained his senses, he called 911 and reported the Barrington matriarch’s death.
THE END
