“I told you.” He mouthed the words, lifted a hand in farewell and headed silently out of sight, leaving behind the impression of his kindness. A kindness she appreciated.
Mary released her from the hug, but held tight to her hand, as if she were determined not to let go.
Strange, Lauren had come here feeling vulnerable, but this woman’s arm was so frail, nothing but fragile bones and a silk sleeve. Lauren took a more guiding hold on her to make sure she was all right. “You look like you need to sit down.”
“No, dear. Just taken back. You wouldn’t remember my dear sister. Cancer took her. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss her sorely.”
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t imagine what that must be like, to miss someone so much. To love them so much.
Judging by the pain stark on her grandmother’s face and how it seemed to drain her of strength, Lauren decided that she might live a lonely life, but maybe she was lucky, in a way. She would never know her grandmother’s sorrow and loss and heartbreak.
Maybe that was better, to be safe from that kind of pain.
“I’m so glad you’ve come. Now, let me get a good look at you. My, how you’ve grown. A little underfed, but that’s an easy remedy. I can’t get over it. All this time.” Tears silvered Mary’s eyes. “Twenty-two years just flew by and it’s an eternity all the same. It’s been enough for the sweet little toddler you were to grow up. You don’t remember me at all, do you?”
“No, but I wish I did.”
“Well, here I’m going on and on and you must be tired from such a long drive. You must have come up through Utah.”
“I did. It was a gorgeous drive. It’s lovely here, too.”
“I think so, too. It’s home.” Mary slipped her arm through Lauren’s. “I hope you don’t mind I’ve put you out here.”
Sadness seemed to stick with the older woman and her voice was brittle sounding. Lauren didn’t know what to say or how to make it better. She looked up to realize there was an in-ground pool to her left, glittering around an enormous brick patio. Ahead, there was a garden gate that led to a small cottage, hidden behind climbing roses and flowering shrubs.
It was sweet, like something out of a gardener’s dream.
“This used to be my studio, and then a guest house. Your sister Katherine lived here for a long while, until she got her own place in town. Caleb stayed here when he went to college. He lives next door now, and takes care of the place for me when I’m gone. These days I spend most of my time in Arizona.” Mary led the way along the cozy porch to the front door. “Speaking of Caleb, where did he get off to?”
“To see to the horses, I think.”
“He’s a fine man. I don’t know what I would do without him. I’ve known him since he was a wee thing. He’s a man a woman can count on.”
How could she tell her grandmother that she hadn’t thought that a man like that existed on this entire planet? Mary obviously held Caleb in high regard and for good reason. The image of him in his cowboy hat, calming the horses seemed implanted in Lauren’s brain. There was goodness in him and a lot of dependability. Even she could see that. But a lot of men were that way—except when it really counted.
“I thought you might be more comfortable out here,” Mary was saying as they ambled along the flagstone path to the little cottage. “You’ll have your privacy. I know this is going to be a lot for you to adjust to, meeting your family. There are a lot of us.”
“It’s already overwhelming. But nice.”
Mary’s beaming smile was reward enough. Lauren was deeply glad that she’d come. No matter what. A flicker of joy filled her right up. She, who’d always felt so alone, had a grandmother—a real one, a caring one. It was hard not to care right back. And didn’t that mean she was completely out of her element?
Yes.
The little house had a fan-shaped window in the rounded top of the door. It was like a storybook cottage.
Another clue that she was out of her comfort zone. Inside, the cottage was as sweet as promised from the outside, with sheer white curtains swinging in the breeze from the open windows, gleaming honey-wood floors and a cabbage rose covered couch. There was a matching chair and ottoman, which looked good for reading, and scarred end tables topped with colorful pottery lamps. Lauren spotted a tiny kitchen in the corner, with an avocado-green stove and refrigerator. The place was so homey, she was afraid to believe it was real.
Just like with Mary.
“You go ahead and freshen up, dear. I know it was a long, hot and dusty drive. I had Caleb stock the little kitchen with a few necessities, so poke around if you like. When you’re ready, come up to the main house. I should have supper on the table in thirty minutes.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
During the whole trip Lauren had wondered what she would say to her grandmother. She’d made a mental list of the questions to ask and of the things she needed to know. Now those questions flitted away like dry leaves in the wind, rolling out of sight.
She felt lost. Nothing was as she expected it to be.
Mary reached out and squeezed her hand. The contact wasn’t something she was used to, but for that one microsecond, the vast canyon she always kept between her and everyone else was bridged. She was no longer painfully alone.
Then Mary let go and stepped away. The canyon around her returned and she didn’t know what to say next. She wrapped her arms around her middle, but that was no comfort from the loneliness.
She was trailing her grandmother to the open door, to close it after her, when she spotted a framed picture hung on the wall. It was one among many with unfamiliar smiling faces, but this photograph called to her.
“Oh, that’s you right there.” Mary brushed a manicured fingertip toward the family portrait. “Do you remember?”
“Not really.” She stared at herself, the little girl in the photograph, chubby with the look of a tot who was more infant than toddler, dressed in a poufy white-and-blue sailor dress and bonnet. She sat on her mother’s lap. She recognized her mom, of course. Perhaps that was what had made her stop in the first place.
She studied the face of the tall, capable-looking man standing behind Mom. She didn’t recognize her father’s face, which was more lean than round, with a hawk-like nose and square jaw. He had a friendly look to him.
Her dad. The dad who’d never wanted to see her. She swallowed hard against the pain. Maybe what her mother had told her about her father was not true, either. Why didn’t she remember him? Or her brother and sisters? Her brother was a tall, teenage boy who closely resembled their father. There were three other girls—a slim preteen, who had wide eyes and a pretty smile even with braces, and two grade school girls who were shockingly identical.
Twins? Lauren didn’t even know there were twins in the family. Her family. People she was connected to by blood, but nothing else. They were simply strangers.
Strangers.
She studied the smiling family. The clothes were dated, fashionable twenty years ago and of modest department-store quality. The kids had the same blond hair and violet-blue eyes that she had.
An eerie feeling of recognition crawled through her, but it was nothing she could grasp. No tangible memory came to the surface through the void.
“That’s your father, of course. He’s remarried. Spence runs the family bookstore these days, along with Katherine. You won’t be meeting her on this visit, since she’s off on her honeymoon. The twins are Aubrey and Ava. Of course, they’re all grown up now. Don’t think, because you didn’t grow up here, that you were out of my thoughts or my heart, because that