Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85399 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“You didn’t break Grandma’s heart.”
“Grandma’s not here to defend herself. So, we’re better off not making assumptions when it comes to her,” Dad says.
I furrow my brow, but he ignores my unspoken question.
“So, you did break her heart?” Maddie asks the question I wanted to but didn’t.
Dad sighs. “I didn’t break her heart. But I could’ve done better by her. It’s a bunch of shit that you don’t learn some lessons until it’s too damn late.”
I keep my gaze focused ahead of us and not on my father.
“Well, I can’t wait to prove you wrong about Daniel,” Maddie says. “I’m gonna make you eat your shoe at our wedding.”
“I won’t be at your wedding. I’ll be dead.”
“Pops! Stop it.” Maddie grabs his arm and rests her head on his shoulder. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice, sweetheart. But there’s no sense in lying to you.”
Dad’s face is blank, as if he’s talking about the trees and not his ultimate death. He’s a cranky old man most of the time. Lauren says it’s part of his charm. But it’s not just crankiness today; there’s an element of acceptance. Like he’s not only trying to get a rise out of his granddaughter but also trying to tell her something.
I shift my weight, giving my father a quick once-over. He has good color in his cheeks, and he’s getting around about the same as always. But there’s something off about him. I noticed it last night.
He scoffs. “I’m just tired, Jack. I’m an old man. Get out of here and let me sleep, and maybe I won’t be so aggravating tomorrow.”
“What are we doing with all of these blackberries?” I ask.
Dad hums. “Well, I guess we’ll give them to Mrs. Shaw and see if she can make us a cobbler.”
“Yum,” Maddie says.
“Mrs. Shaw is a pretty damn good cook.”
Maddie stands tall but keeps her arm locked with Dad’s. “Is she a better cook than Grandma?”
“Oh, now you’re playing with fire,” he says. “I can’t answer that.”
The two of them banter back and forth about loyalty and the right answer to Maddie’s question. I tune both out.
“It’s a bunch of shit that you don’t learn some lessons until it’s too damn late.”
I grin. Thank God I learned mine while there was still time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LAUREN
Ihate hills,” I mutter, groaning as I reach the top of the ascent into Story Brook.
The late morning is beautiful, the epitome of perfection. Birds chirp overhead, singing pretty songs and happily chatting among themselves. The breeze is a wonderful juxtaposition to the warming temps. The other residents of Story Brook mill in front of their cabins as I walk by, cleaning up from last night’s campfire or throwing balls with their dogs.
“Hi, Gayle,” I say. She married her husband the same year I married Jack. We were Story Brook rookies together. “How have you been?”
She steps off her porch and comes to the road. Her red hair shines in the sunlight. “I’m good, Lauren. How have you been?”
“Good. Thanks.”
She grins. “You look wonderful. I’ve been wondering if you were up here this summer. I haven’t seen you, but I thought I saw your kids run by the other day.”
I laugh.
“They’ve gotten so big,” she says, laughing too. “Do you get tired of everyone saying that? I don’t have kids, as you know, but I would imagine comments like that would irritate you at some point. Like, ‘Yes, I know my kids are growing up. Stop reminding me.’”
“I’m reminded every day. Maddie has her first boyfriend, and if that doesn’t remind you that your kids are growing up, I don’t know what will.”
“Ooh,” she says. “The first boyfriend, huh? How is Jack taking that?”
“About as well as you’d think.”
She chuckles. “He’s always been so much fun to watch with the kids.”
I’m unsure what my face does, but her brows pull together in response.
“You know what I mean,” she says. “You see so many fathers at the beach with their kids, or boating, or having a slice of pie outside of the Cupboard. But when you really look at them, they aren’t paying a bit of attention. They’re on their phones or striking up conversations with other people. So many of them don’t even acknowledge their children, but that’s never been Jack. If he’s throwing a ball with Michael, he’s throwing a ball with Michael. If he and Maddie ride bikes, they’re side by side and chatting away. Quality over quantity. So important.”
“Yeah. Absolutely.”
I blink, wondering if things just seem to pertain to our situation because I’m thinking about it. Or if the universe will keep splashing things in my face until I finally notice.
No, I know Jack’s an excellent father, and what Gayle has noticed when we’re on vacation has been true.
But there have been unnoticed gaps in the other fifty weeks of the year.