Mary watched the paper slide out of the printer, ready to put indecision behind her. At least this was one thing she could control. She picked up the paper, gave it a quick proofread, and was about to sign it when Grant appeared in the doorway.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“I’m signing my council resignation.”
Grant pushed off from the doorframe. “Why?”
She placed the paper on her desk. “It’s time. I opened the packet this morning and realized I just don’t care about most of the things on the agenda – code violations and park improvements…permits. It’s–” She sank into the chair. “I care about Whitfield, but I have more important things to do – like spending every minute I have left on this earth rocking that baby.”
Slowly, Grant nodded. “I agree.”
“You do?” His response both surprised and cheered her. Good. Maybe she could stop the back-and-forth battle going on in her head. On one hand it felt like admitting defeat, but it also felt…right.
He perched a hip on her desk. “Yes. Staying active is good, but you were overdoing it. But I do object to you spending every minute rocking Heather. Maybe you could spare the rest of us a crumb of your time.”
She reached for his hand. “Aw, are you jealous of your sweet little granddaughter?”
In the two weeks that Heather had been in their home, she had, of course, taken center stage – and taken over their lives. Mary was helping as much as she could, allowing Sara to get some sleep between the three-hour feeding intervals. Grant had run errands and done more than his share of cooking and cleaning up. And he was just as smitten with their granddaughter as Mary was. He couldn’t walk past her without a peek or a touch.
“Nah. I’ve got a pretty good handle on who’s in charge around here now,” Grant told her.
“Well, by the time you get back from Bolivia, she won’t be quite so needy. Oh, but before you go, I need your help with something.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Do you think you can find someone to put a ramp from the back door down to the patio for me? Or maybe you and Doug could do it? I– I went ahead and ordered one of those motorized wheelchairs the OT people mentioned.”
Grant’s eyes widened, and she’d swear his face paled. “You think you need a wheelchair? Your leg– your other leg is weakening?”
“No, it’s not that. So far, my right leg is okay, but the weather’s so nice, and I’d love to be able to take Heather outside. I think operating a wheelchair and holding her in my lap might be safer than gimping around with a cane. I’d hate to risk a fall with her in my arms. Just as a precaution,” she added, trying to reassure him. “Besides, I don’t want Sara to feel like she has to be here every second or can’t even take a nap.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Sure. I’ll figure it out. If we have to hire someone, though, might not get done before I leave.” Standing, he raked a hand through his hair. “Damn, Mary, you talk about needing a wheelchair and me leaving for six weeks practically in the same sentence. I’m not sure I should even go.”
Her heart sank at his words. She didn’t want to hear that. She did not want to be the reason he missed this opportunity. Mary pushed off from the chair and leaned against the desk, facing him. “Don’t say that. Of course, you should go. You’ve been planning this for more than a year. Sara and I can fend for ourselves. And you know Rita and Annie and Dana will pitch in. It’ll probably be like a three-ring circus around here.”
He stared hard. “Sounds like you want me to go.” His voice took on the slightest edge.
“I do. I want you to go on this trip, Grant.” With a weary sigh, she stepped away from him, and dropped into the armchair near the window, letting her gaze drift. “You have no idea how heavy the weight of disappointing you is. Some days it crushes me.” She looked up to see irritation turn to disbelief.
“Come on, Grant. You retired. I got sick. All those events we’ve missed? All those vacations we’d planned? We aren’t going anywhere. You can’t tell me you aren’t disappointed about that.”
Grant shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sure. It hurts like hell. But I’m not disappointed in you. I can go next year.”
Mary held up a hand. “Let’s don’t kid ourselves. Things will likely be worse next year. This is your chance. Please don’t miss it, too.” She didn’t bother to state the obvious, but it hammered in her brain, anyway. He could wait. It could be a cathartic trip for him after she was gone – when he didn’t have to worry about leaving her behind. But then she’d miss seeing him accomplish something he’d talked about for years. She’d miss the joy of that. She’d miss hearing his stories. Her lips trembled, and Grant took her hand.
“I haven’t cancelled Alaska yet.”
“Alaska! Oh, love. How on earth could I possibly go to Alaska?”
“You went to Hawaii. That worked out all right.”
“But all I did was sit.”
Grant shrugged. “The ship will have a pool.”
“Hawaii was lovely, but it wasn’t what we had in mind. No hikes or walks, no climbing around on lava rocks. I guess it’s my perverse nature. The more I can’t do something, the more I want to do it. Alaska is supposed to be so much more than sitting on a boat. We’re supposed to go see the grizzlies. We can’t do that from the boat.”
He crouched beside her. “So, we’ll scale back.”
And once again, she’d be holding him back, keeping him from doing the things he’d looked forward to. She hated that more than she hated the idea of missing the trip. Maybe they could look into modifying it. She sucked in a deep breath. “Don’t cancel yet.”
Grant leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “If it doesn’t work this year, we’ll try for next year. And if we don’t? It doesn’t matter.” He gently pulled her out of the chair and down to his lap as he stretched out on the floor. Mary rested her head against his chest. They sat quietly, Mary lost in thought, until Sara shrieked from the hallway.
“Mom!”
In the doorway, Sara stopped and sagged against the framework. “Oh, my gosh. I saw your legs…I thought you fell or something.”
“Sorry, sweetie. I’m fine.” Mary scooted from Grant’s lap onto the rug.
“What are you guys doing on the floor?” Sara demanded.
Laughter bubbled up inside Mary. She supposed they did look a little ridiculous.
Grant stood, and helped her up, then handed her the cane.
“We were just talking,” Mary said. As if that explained anything.
Sara shook her head. “On the floor.”
Mary caught Grant’s eye, and the laughter froze as her heart clenched. Little moments like this, private just-between-you-and-me moments were the fabric of their lives. Private jokes, I-know-what-you-mean smiles, secret eye messages, memories that meant nothing to anyone but them…in bed, on the floor, in a car surrounded by the relentless chatter of three kids. Woven around the big stuff were a million quiet connections.
* * *
After two full days of banging and sawing, Mary had her ramp. At the back door, Grant and Doug built a wide platform to accommodate a wheelchair and then a long, very gradual slope to the patio, complete with a railing to ensure she couldn’t veer off the sides.
When Grant declared it finished, Mary and Sara assessed their handiwork. “This looks very sturdy,” Mary said.
“Want to give it a go?” Doug asked.
Grant crossed his arms. “Better start practicing,” he told her. “I’m not leaving until I know you can do this without breaking your neck.”
“Fine. Let me get my wheels.” Fortunately, the chair was easy to maneuver with one hand. Holding a bag to simulate holding her granddaughter, Mary fixed the stay on the door without Grant’s help, then closed it once she got outside. She settled into the chair and with only a tiny bump, eased onto the ramp. She grinned all the way down and stepped into Grant’s arms. He twirled her around and landed a quick peck on her lips. “Nice moves. But you gotta get back up to the house, too.”
“All right, all right. Such a task master.” The chair seemed to work a little harder going back up, but it did the job. Mary applied the brakes, pushed herself out of the chair, and turned to her audience. “Satisfied?”
Sara started the applause, and Doug and Grant chimed in.
Mary considered herself proficient at the maneuver by the time Grant deposited his bags near the front door Saturday morning. Only one duffle and a backpack. For six weeks. Definitely a man’s trip.
At eight o’clock, Blake’s car pulled into the drive. He was dropping Annie off to spend the day in Whitfield while he took Grant to the airport in Kansas City. Sara tiptoed down the stairs, baby monitor in hand. The girls hugged their dad goodbye then draped themselves across the sofa while Grant loaded his bag. Mary lingered at the door, and a moment later, he jogged back up to the house. They’d already said their private goodbyes, but she’d take one more kiss. “Be careful,” she whispered when he drew her against him.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll call you when I get there.”
“I sure hope that international service works.”
“Only one way to find out, darlin’. You girls take care of your mom.” His lips met Mary’s one more time. “I love you, Mary-me.”
Mary stood just inside until the car lights went out of sight. Slowly, she closed the door and turned to the girls. “I hope it’s a grand adventure. You girls staying up or want to go back to bed?”
“I can’t go back to sleep now,” Annie said.
“I’m good,” Sara added.
“All right then, who wants coffee?”
They both answered with a strong “me.”
“But first I’m going up to poke my niece,” Annie said.
“Not,” Sara objected, putting out a hand to restrain her sister. “Don’t you worry, she’ll be awake soon enough.”
Annie made a face. “Okay, grouch.”
The girls meandered into the kitchen, helped themselves to coffee, and curled into chairs at the table. “What are we doing today?” Annie asked.
“Well, we could hang out in our pajamas and watch a movie,” Mary suggested. “But I bet we’ll spend most of our time watching Heather Rose.”
As if on cue, the monitor sprang to life with a soft whimper.
“No way.” Pushing back her chair, Sara turned to Annie. “See that? I took one sip of my coffee. That’s how this works.”
Smiling, Mary enjoyed a drink of her own robust brew. “Ahh. Look at that. What goes around, comes around.”
“Can I get her?” Annie asked. “Will she scream if it’s not you?”
Sara hesitated a moment before sitting back down. “Let’s find out.”
Mary and Sara listened through the monitor as Annie cooed to Heather upstairs.
“Sounds like she’s got another one wrapped around her finger,” Mary said. “You might want to take advantage of that today.”
Sara grinned behind her mug. “Oh, I plan to. And I think I’ll start with a lesson on diaper changing,” she added loudly as Annie came down the stairs.
After Heather had been changed and fed, Sara handed her to Annie, who had taken a seat in the new rocking chair. “Let’s try to keep her awake for a little while,” Sara said. “Let her look at your face and the lights.”
The women followed the baby’s lead and spent the day napping and eating between intervals of conversation and baby-watching.
Blake arrived back at the house around three-thirty and stayed for dinner.
“We grabbed some lunch, then he went through security. Looked like everything was on time,” Blake told them.
Mary glanced at the clock. With the hour and a half layover in Atlanta, Grant was due to arrive in Bolivia around ten. She’d have to remember to take her cell phone to bed with her.
At eight, Annie reluctantly turned Heather over to her mother, and Mary wondered how long before Annie would want one of her own. It’d be so much fun if her daughter’s children were close enough in age to be friends.
“Remember, next week I’m coming to Paxton,” Mary said as they moved toward the front door. “I have my six-month appointment. I think that’s at ten, so we can go to lunch afterward.”
“What will they do, Mom?”
“Basic stuff. And blood tests, of course.”
Annie glanced at Sara. “Are you bringing her?”
They hadn’t discussed it yet, and Mary didn’t want to assume. “Oh, she’s got her hands full. I can get there on my own.” She probably should’ve made the appointment for Whitfield instead of Paxton but hadn’t been thinking about the timing when she scheduled it.
“Well, let me know,” Annie said. “Maybe I can meet you at the doctor’s office. I hate for you to go alone, Mom.”
Mary smiled and nodded. “We’ll see,” she said. “But either way, I’ll take you to lunch.” Unless Sara really wanted to pack Heather up and meet Annie for lunch, she wouldn’t be imposing on her daughters. Not if she didn’t have to.