Page 63 of A Jilted Bride for the Cowboy

“That’s not far away at all.”

“It’s not. I thought she was up near Kalispell, which, in the grand scheme of things, isn’t far, either.”

Graham nodded. Waited.

“But now that I have a street address, I find myself wanting to drive into town and watching for a glimpse of her.”

“But you’re waiting on her to invite you. Right?”

“It’s an older house. Shabby.”

“You looked it up on street view?” Graham shouldn’t be surprised. He’d have done the same thing, and Grandfather was at least as astute with technology as he was.

“Of course.” Grandfather shrugged and looked down at his phone. “Want to see?”

“Why not?” Graham accepted the device and studied the older house. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t tiny, either. The siding and white picket fence might be in need of a paint job, but the yard overflowed with roses. “Someone loves flowers.” He handed the phone back.

“She always had a bouquet on her desk.” Grandfather stared into the image. “I teased her about her boyfriend, but she said she bought them for herself since they brightened her life.” He huffed out a breath as he shook his head. “Why did I take advantage of her? She didn’t deserve to think she’d lose her job if she didn’t give in to me.”

“Did you… force her?” Graham couldn’t believe he had enough nerve to ask that question, but after what his grandfather had said…

“No. But, if memory serves, I probably came close to that line. Times were different, boy.” Grandfather pursed his lips. “But not that different. I regret my actions a great deal.”

“You’ve been in contact, you said. Did you tell her you were sorry?”

“I did.”

“And her response?”

Grandfather swallowed hard. “She forgave me a long time ago, she said. Water under the bridge and all that. And she loves Nadine and could hardly wish her not born. I only wish… no. It was better this way.”

When the old man didn’t seem ready to go on, Graham nudged. “You only wish what?”

“I wish she’d told me why she left Chicago. I’d have done the right thing. I’d have married her, taken care of her and our daughter.”

“But then…” Graham waved around the place then pointed at himself.

“I know. Your grandmother and I were happy together. I loved her. I did, even though I made her crazy and failed her often. I love your father and your uncle. All you boys.”

Graham wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Grandfather voice the L word before, let alone more than once in one conversation. Let alone referring to him.

“You know that Robert Frost poem, “The Road Not Taken”?”

“Uh… yes?” At least, Graham had a vague memory of studying it back in school. “Something about a crossroads, and the poet took the path less traveled by.”

“And that has made all the difference,” Grandfather quoted, musing. “The point being, I suppose, that for every path we select, we are choosing not to explore all the other ones.”

Who knew the old man had such a philosophical bent? Graham had never suspected it. And yet, did it take poetry to make a man realize he couldn’t test every fork in the road before committing? Wasn’t that simple common sense? He shook his head. Give him mathematical equations any day of the week.

“So, we’ve exchanged a couple of emails, and she waits several days before responding.” Grandfather harrumphed. “Has she forgotten I’m eighty years old? If she keeps that up, I’ll die of old age before we finish the conversation.”

Graham couldn’t help the chuckle.

Thankfully, his grandfather joined with a self-deprecating cough before pinning his eagle eyes on him. “Now, you.”

Oh, boy. Graham took a long breath. “I asked Cadence to marry me, and she turned me down.”

Grandfather blinked and leaned back in his chair, studying him before shaking his head. “You… what?”

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