“SO,” GRANT ASKED his mom, “have you and the girls figured out who’s hosting Thanksgiving this year?”
“Actually, now that you mention it, we have.”
Rena scooped up a spoonful of ice cream. “Let me guess—Anni’s house, because her dining room is bigger than Tressia’s.”
“Wrong! We put our heads together the other day and decided that since you missed the festivities for a couple of years, you should do it.” Tina sipped her water. “Besides, you’re a better cook than all three of us put together.”
“I’m flabbergasted. And flattered. Are you sure? I know how much you and your daughters love to host.”
“We’ve all roasted our fair share of turkeys. And I’ll still bring my famous green bean casserole, so I’m a happy cook.”
“Hey, Grandma?” Rosie piped up. “When we finish dessert, will you come to my room and read with me until it’s bedtime?”
“I’d love to, but we should help your mom with the dishes first.”
“No, you guys go ahead. Grant can help for a change.”
“For a change? I clear the table nearly every night!”
“Nearly isn’t nearly good enough,” she joked.
For weeks, she’d wondered how to tell him. When to tell him. She’d been about to broach the subject in the backyard earlier, before Rosie had come outside. Rena knew it had to be tonight. She just had to get him to herself.
Tina had gone home and the dishes were done when she pulled out a kitchen chair and said, “Grant, sit down.”
“Uh-oh. I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Hush, and let me talk.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He’d been saying that a lot lately. Hopefully, he’d say it again in just a few minutes.
“Do you remember what I asked you that night, when you were…upset?”
“You mean the night I bawled like a schoolgirl?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way, but yes, that night.”
“As I recall, you asked me to forgive you.”
Rena couldn’t believe it. Was he actually going to tell her what she wanted to hear, with no prompting from her?
“I’ve been going over that in my head. Over and over, to be honest. And the truth is, there’s nothing to forgive. Never was. Never will be.”
That surprised her and she said so.
He shrugged, as if that was the end of it.
“But, Grant, you said in plain English that you held me accountable for what happened to Rosie.”
“I did. And I’m sorry. And I was dead wrong.”
This wasn’t going at all the way she’d planned it. Rena decided to try a different approach.
“It’s just…what I’m trying to say is, I need to clear the air. Start fresh. Wipe the slate clean.”
His eyes widened and he paled. “What are you saying, Rena? A clean slate, meaning…”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that.” She hadn’t meant to freak him out.
Grant’s expression relaxed. “Good. Because I thought things were going really well between us.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.
Rena clamped her teeth together. When he looked at her that way, she was putty in his hands. He knew it, too. But tonight, she needed to be in control.
“I need to hear you say it. Unless of course you don’t mean it. Then this whole exercise would be futile.”
He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Rena. Honey. Please give me a break here. Exercise? What exercise?”
“The clean-slate, fresh-start exercise, of course.”
Grant sat back. “Oh.” He drove a hand through his hair. “So let me get this straight. You want me to say I forgive you, even though I don’t believe there’s anything to forgive you for.”
Could it be that he finally understood? A gal can hope…
“Yes.”
“Okay, then. I forgive you…on one condition.”
Rena’s heart sank. He didn’t understand, after all.
“You have to say it, too.”
“Say what?”
“That you forgive me.”
“For what?”
“For being unfair. For making you feel awful about yourself. For driving you out of your own home. For making you believe I hated you, when I didn’t. Not even for a minute.”
“Is this sounding a little déjà vu to you, or am I imagining things?”
“Maybe, but when a thing is right, it bears repeating. Right?”
“Grant…”
“Rena…”
He laughed, and she couldn’t help but join him.
“See, here’s the thing,” she said. “I have something to tell you. Something really important. But before I do, I want to be sure that this whole matter behind us. You know?”
His brow furrowed. “Not really, but I’ll humor you. How about this—we’ll say it together. On the count of three.” He held up one hand, raised his pointer finger. “One.” The middle finger popped up next. “Two.” And then, the ring finger. “Three.”
“I forgive you,” they said together.
“There. Slate’s wiped clean, the air is cleared, and we can start fresh. Satisfied?”
Rena still wasn’t sure he’d meant it.
“Well?” he said.
“Well what?”
“This big important thing you want to tell me—what is it?”
Now that she had him where she wanted him—sort of—Rena was tongue-tied.
Finally, she took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”
“You’re…you’re what?”
“You heard me. I’m having a baby.”
He got to his feet, pulled her up with him. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“When?”
“May. Around the time of Rosie’s birthday.”
He gathered her into his arms and pressed kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her eyelids, her chin.
She laughed. “You’re happy about this, then…”
“Happy? You’re kidding, right?” Picking her up, Grant whirled her around, and when he set her down again, he kissed her. Kissed her like her meant it. Kissed her the way he had before Rosie’s disappearance.
“We need to go wake up Rosie.”
“Why?”
“Because,” he whispered, his lips touching hers, “I feel like celebrating. As a family.”
Rena melted against him and memorized the moment. For some reason, the image of the Fenwick Island lighthouse came to mind, exactly the way it had looked in her rearview mirror as she left the cottage the day he called to tell her Rosie had been found. Back then, it had reminded her of the separation between her and Grant. Now, it only reminded her of all those weary sailors it had safely guided to shore.
Grant was her lighthouse, her safe harbor.
Rosie bounded into the room, grinning. “Mom…Dad…what's going on?”
“Sit down, kiddo,” Grant said. “Your mom and I have something to tell you. Something we think will make you very happy.”
Rena listened as Grant explained that soon, Rosie would become a big sister. And as she watched her daughter's eyes light up with anticipation and joy, she realized that her lighthouse analogy no longer fit the situation.
Lighthouses, more often than not, were lone structures, built on islands.
She wasn't alone anymore. Soon, their little family would grow, and together, they'd shelter one another.
Forever.
* * * * *