Page 54 of Free to Live
Grace nods seriously. I brush a kiss on her forehead before I face my parents again. My mother has tears in her eyes. “What is it?”
“I don’t care if you told me the person who’s giving me back my son has six earrings, multicolored mohawk-shaven hair, and is an arsonist,” my mother declares.
“I might draw the line at arson, but what your mother said. Who cares if the person is a woman, Joe? And for that matter, if it grows into something more over time.” He shrugs.
I can’t mentally even go there yet, but I appreciate their support knowing all they want is the best for Grace and for me. “So, knowing you might hear about me and Holly Freeman sharing a few lunches together won’t upset you?” I ask carefully.
“That entire family is welcome at this table,” my father says gruffly. I smile knowing there’s no more significant honor from my father.
“Their table is bigger, Pop. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if you get an invitation to join them. When Grace and I were invited over for a meal while we planning the event, their farm table could probably…” My voice drifts off when I catch both my parents staring openly at me.
“It seems to me, my sweet boy, that this friendship started a while ago,” my mother says gently.
“Before, it was about planning the event. Now, it’s just about Holly and me. There will be talk.”
My father leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “The only two people who I could think of who might object to you living, son, are Eden and Seth. And I don’t need to go into why.” He gives my daughter, who’s too busy trying to stick her fingers into the meat sauce, a pointed look.
Eden and Seth are still so wrapped up in their grief. They feel nothing. I firmly believe no one should have to move on from that kind of pain we all felt until they’re ready, but not at Grace’s expense. Gently pulling Grace’s fingers away from the hot sauce, I bite them in my mouth, setting her to giggling.
Grief doesn’t have a deadline, that’s for sure. But life does. I don’t want the rest of mine to be spent feeling the desperate shards of pain being shoved into my chest when I might be able to enjoy a few moments of happiness with the ability to scar the wounds left behind.
I lift Grace, then put her down. “I don’t know about you all, but I’m starving. I can’t come into this house and not want to eat.”
“Eat!” Grace dances, but suddenly she crosses her legs. A telltale sign.
I laugh. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go potty before we eat so we don’t ruin Grandma’s chairs.”
“’Kay!” She grabs my hand, and I let her drag me to the hallway bathroom.
Leaning against the jamb, I think about what my mother said and laugh. A six earrings, multicolored mohawked arsonist.
“What’s so funny, Daddy?”
“Life is, sweetheart,” I tell her honestly. Kneeling down, I help her readjust her clothing. “Now go wash your hands so we can eat.”
As she steps on the little stool to do just that, I stand to my full height. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I realize that after all these years, I’m finally taking steps to move forward.
As a man who by choice runs into a wall of flame, taking this step seems both more frightening and more astounding.
“Get a move on, you two! I’m getting hungry out here!” my father bellows.
“Yes, Grandpa!” Grace goes tearing back toward the table. I turn off the light and follow at a more leisurely pace, my soul more settled than it has been in a long time.
26
Holly
“So glad you suggested this,” I tell Joe as I shove a bite of Frances’ macaroni and cheese into my mouth. “I rarely leave the mansion for lunch.”
He chuckles. “You all sound worse than we do. Unless we’re out on a call, we make the probies cook for us.” His face twists in a grimace. “That can be pretty hit or miss.”
“We’re normally not that bad. If we’ve just had a family dinner, we bring the leftovers in for the next day. Otherwise, we just congregate with whatever we’ve brought from home. If we’re splurging or it’s a special occasion, we’ll beg for someone to bring us Genoa.”
The groan that passes from Joe’s lips causes my lips to turn up. “I take it we’re not the only one obsessed with it?”
“I think they funded their expansion due to the CFD,” he tells me.
I break out laughing. His eyes twinkle as he shoves a bite of food into his mouth and chews.
