Page 47 of The Space He Left
The idea hung in the air, a lifeline I hadn't even dared to imagine. It was a partial solution, a quiet concession to a father's rights and a daughter's needs, without compromising my own fragile healing.
"But... would they be okay with that?" I asked, my voice small. "With me basically still calling the shots from a distance?"
"Harper, they love their granddaughter," Mom said simply, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And they see how heartbroken their son is. They'll understand. They'll do anything to help heal this family, even if it's one secret visit at a time."
"Okay," I whispered, a wave of relief so profound it almost made me dizzy. "Okay, let's try that. But it has to be our secret. Jack can't know I agreed to it. He has to think it's their idea, that he's just... getting lucky. I can't have him thinking I'm ready for more than I am."
"He'll never hear it from me," Mom promised, squeezing my hand. "I just want my daughter and grandbaby to be happy."
"We don't need Jack to be happy."
It was true, but it was also heartbreaking. I'd married Jack because I'd wanted to build a life with him, not because I'd needed him to survive. The difference between wanting someone and needing them had become painfully clear.
And oh, how I wanted him. I wanted the man whose love wasn't in grand declarations, but in the quiet, steady rhythm of our life together. He was the low rumble of the coffee grinder in the kitchen every morning, a sound that always came before myalarm. He'd bring me a mug in bed, remembering I liked it with a splash of cream but no sugar.
His love was in the flowers that would appear on the kitchen counter, not a weekly obligation, but a spontaneous burst of color that mirrored the seasons. Daffodils in the first thaw of spring, a bouquet of fiery sunflowers in the thick of August, a single, perfect crimson rose just because. It was his way of bringing the outside world to me, a piece of beauty he'd seen and immediately associated with me.
We'd wander through the weekend farmers' market, my hand in his, and I'd idly admire something—a small ceramic bowl with a robin's egg glaze, a jar of local wildflower honey. Weeks later, it would appear on my bedside table, a small, wrapped surprise. He collected the quiet things I loved and gave them back to me when I least expected it. That was the man I'd married.
He paid attention. He remembered the little things. And now, the man who remembered the specific shade of blue I loved was the same man who had seemingly forgotten me since our anniversary.
I truly could not reconcile these two versions of Jack.
"Harper?" Jack's mother's voice came from downstairs. "How are you doing, darling?"
"Come on up," I called back as my Mom disappeared, leaving us to it.
Jack's parents appeared in the doorway, their faces lighting up when they saw Emma. Despite everything, they were her grandparents, and they deserved to know her.
"She's beautiful," Jack's mother said, her voice thick with emotion. "She looks just like Jack did as a baby."
"She has his eyes," I agreed, letting them take turns holding Emma. "And his stubborn streak."
Jack's father chuckled. "That's the Henderson genes. We're a determined bunch."
"Determined or stubborn?" I asked.
"Both, depending on the situation," he admitted. "Harper, we want you to know how sorry we are about Jack's behavior. We raised him better than this."
"I know you did. This isn't about how you raised him. This is about the choices he made as an adult."
"Still, we feel responsible. And we want you to know that whatever you decide about your marriage, Emma will always be our granddaughter. We'll always be here for both of you."
The promise was both comforting and sad. They were pledging support for a future that might not include their son, acknowledging that Jack might have lost his family permanently.
"We've also set up a college fund for Emma," Jack's mother added. "And if you need anything – groceries, babysitting, help with bills – you just call us. We don't want you to worry about money while you're figuring things out."
The generosity was overwhelming. Jack's parents were essentially offering to support me and Emma financially if their son wasn’t around. It was an act of love and responsibility that stood in stark contrast to Jack's recent behavior.
"That's very generous, but I don't want to be a burden—"
"You're not a burden," Jack's father said firmly. "You're family. Emma is our granddaughter. Taking care of family isn't a burden, it's a privilege."
After they left, I sat in the nursery with Emma, thinking about the conversation. Both sets of parents were rallying around us, creating a safety net that would allow me to make decisions based on what was right rather than what was financially necessary.
It was a luxury Jack had made essential through his choices.
My phone buzzed with a text from Sam:How are you holding up?
