He swayed back and forth a few times, perhaps debating whether to hug me or shake my hand. He rubbed the back of his neck. Then he broke into a huge grin. He skirted past Candice and wrapped me in an embrace that knocked the wind out of me.
His jagged breath rushed past my ear. “My baby. My little baby. You’re all grown up.”
I buckled into his arms.
“Puppa,” I gasped through tears. The word came to me as naturally as the grip of my elbows around his neck. Here was my family. My blood. My heritage.
When the moment ended, I stared at him, wiping the streaks from my face. “I’ve been here a week. Why didn’t you come see me? Why didn’t you call?”
His hands lingered on my shoulders. “I wanted to, but I didn’t know how you’d feel. I figured we’d take it slow.”
I swatted at his chest like a child. “Slow? I haven’t seen you in twenty years. Isn’t that slow enough?” But his blue eyes looked with love into my own, and I forgave any insult caused by his delay.
“Closer to twenty-six years. But now that we’re together again, let’s forget we were ever apart.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “Come up to the house for supper tonight. Everyone wants to meet you.” He turned. “Candice, you . . .” His voice petered out.
Candice and her groceries were gone.
9
I hummed and boogied and did my hair in the bathroom mirror while I waited for five o’clock to roll around. I couldn’t believe I was finally going to meet the aunts and uncles and cousins that comprised the “everyone” my grandfather said wanted to meet me. For the first time in years, I had family.
“Fam–i–ly,” I sang at the top of my lungs. I barely heard my cell phone ringing from its place on the kitchen counter. I raced down the hall.
I flipped it open, so rushed to make the connection I didn’t even glance at the caller ID. “Hello?”
The other end was silent for a beat. Then he spoke. “Tish.”
I almost choked at the sound of his voice. “Brad?” I slumped to the floor and leaned against a cupboard. “How are you? I’m so surprised to hear from you.”
Silence again. “I guess I thought I’d be hearing from you. What happened? Why didn’t you call me?”
I scanned the specks on the floor for some valid excuse. “It’s been hectic. New house, new grocery store, new church. I guess I’m just getting settled in.” How could I tell him the truth—that we were just too different, that things could never work out between us? Or was it simply that I was too afraid to enter uncharted territory?
He delayed his answer. “I’ve been worried about you. I know you don’t want a relationship right now. You made that plain enough. But, Tish, I thought we were friends. Friends call each other to say they made it to their new house. They call each other to ask how the ski trip went. They call each other just because.” His voice dropped off. “I guess I thought you’d call me.”
My throat knotted up. “It goes both ways, you know. You should have called me last week if you were so worried.”
Silence.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” he said at last. “Did you find what you’re looking for?”
I rubbed my face. What was I looking for? Oh yeah, just trying to figure out who I was by figuring out my mother. But she was dead. It seemed her trail had been washed away by the years. And really, what difference would it make to know whether she liked dark chocolate or milk chocolate best? Would it change the fact that I would always prefer dark? I stared at the perforations in the ceiling squares. Maybe it was all just an excuse not to get involved in a relationship. Who could understand it? I’d have to be crazy not to return Brad’s love.
I sighed into the receiver. “I’m just starting to figure things out.”
“Gonna take awhile, huh?” Brad’s voice was little more than a whisper.
“Yeah. Pretty sure it is. Hey, I’m going to my grandfather’s tonight. I get to meet my dad’s side of the family.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah. I bumped into Puppa by accident. Kind of funny how it happened.” I looked at the stove clock. “In fact, I have to get going soon if I’m going to get to supper on time.”
“Well, enjoy yourself. I hope it’s everything you thought it would be.”
“Thanks. Thank you a lot.” I cleared my throat. “Well, I guess I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sure. Yeah. Call me sometime.”
“Okay then. Bye.”
“Bye.”
The phone went silent.
I flipped it closed and stared at it for a while. I just wanted Brad here. I wanted him with me. I wanted things to be like they were in Rawlings. Phone calls, walks, supper together four nights a week, and church on Sundays. But I’d left him. I’d moved away from all that. And now it was a phone call once a week, walks on my own, and meals all alone.
I stood up and put on my jacket. I stuffed the cell into my pocket. Why’d Brad have to call me anyway? I’d been doing great without him. I’d hardly given him a thought. He’d nearly been relegated to that distant place called the Past. And I would have been fine without him.
The kitchen door slammed behind me, a little harder than I intended. I was fine without him. I didn’t need his “Boo hoo hoo, why didn’t you call me” pressure in my life. I had another mission to focus on. Maybe I’d get back to him when it was completed, or maybe not. Only time would tell.
I drove through Port Silvan, taking the curve past town and heading out along Lake Michigan. Silvan Bay, a once thriving harbor in the now defunct port town, was covered over with ice. Fishing shanties dotted the white expanse. A snowmobile, nothing more than a black speck, made its way to shore.
I passed the sign to the public boat launch, right where my grandfather said it would be. A line of white fences cropped up, barely visible against the mounds of snow. Puppa’s house. I turned into the driveway and slowed, stunned by the view ahead. A quarter mile down, across the serene, snow-covered lawn, rose a massive lake house. A pillared porch wrapped the front and sides. Weathered gray shakes covered the exterior. Bright white trim and shutters provided relief from the dreary color. Above, third-story dormers broke up the vastness of the charcoal roof. A fieldstone chimney topped the structure. Just beyond the house lay the icy harbor.
I blew out a breath of anxiety and pressed on the gas.
I parked along the circle drive that flanked the sweeping front stair. A red four-wheeler was parked to one side. Those things must be a dime a dozen up here. I tucked my keys into my pocket, took a deep breath, and headed toward the door. I took a closer look at the dwelling as I walked up crimson steps. The canopy of the porch dwarfed me with its ten-foot height. The width was at least ten feet as well, providing plenty of space for outdoor furniture, which was now covered in cheerful striped tarps and clumps of snow. The front door itself was double-wide with a transom above. Stained glass in a colorful red and green tulip pattern trumped the overbearing gray shakes to extend a belated welcome.
I pressed the bell.
Deep inside the walls, I heard a bing bong bing. The notes sounded rich, an upper-class interpretation of the boring, traditional ding dong.
A shadow approached the door. The handle turned. The white wood swung open. I put on my happy face, expecting my grandfather.
I got the man from the bluff instead. The one on the red four-wheeler. Candice’s accusations about my grandfather being a bad apple appeared to be dead-on.
I wiped off my smile and squinted at the doorman. He was handsome in an overactive testosterone gland sort of way. Dark whiskers gave the hint of a beard without him actually having one, as if his watch read five o’clock perpetually. Black hair, blue eyes, more bulk under his plaid flannel shirt than seemed natural. He reminded me how Brad had looked that day on the porch when he’d opened his door in just his sweats and tank.
I cleared my throat. “Please tell me I’m not related to you.”