Page 41 of Love Walked In

“I realized that pretty fast,” she said wistfully, “but I appreciate you saying it anyway.”

I trailed my fingers through her hair and she closed her eyes and hummed. “That’s so nice when you do that.”

“I’m glad.” The other words I wanted to say I jammed back down my throat.

Could she have loved me, I wondered, been truly vulnerable with me, if someone had shown her what was possible?

I closed my eyes and wished with all my heart that she’d let someone love her someday. Even if I wanted to snarl at the thought of that person not being me. That was my problem, and I had to find some way to live with it, because I couldn’t stand to end this now.

I couldn’t leave Graham on his own forever, and after ten more minutes of cuddling, I left Mari to rest for a bit, making her promise she’d text or call if she needed me again. When I got to the bottom of the steps, Judith was leaning hard on her cane, chatting to Catriona.

“Ah, there’s the man I wanted to talk to,” she said warmly.

I was normally beyond pleased to see my step-grandmother, but after the day of emotional revelations Mari and I had had, I was ready to ignore other people for a while. “You should have told me you were coming.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “I own a share in this place, I’m allowed to make surprise visits. I’d like a cup of tea and a biscuit, please.”

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” I said to Catriona. “I’m sorry I keep sticking you all with the shop.”

“You’re looking after people today, I understand,” she said kindly. “I hope you’re looking after yourself, too.”

I just shook my head. I’d worry about myself some other time.

When Judith and I got to the break room and she settled herself into one of the cheap chairs, I brewed us each a cup of tea, milk and no sugar for her, milk and two sugars, no, three sugars today, for me.

Judith leaned forward and laced her fingers together on the table. “I wanted to talk to you about Alexander.”

I gawped at her. “This couldn’t have waited until I got home tonight? You had to get in a cab and come all this way to tell me now?”

She shook her head. “When would I have had the chance to talk to you in the last few weeks? You’re almost never home.”

I opened my mouth to apologize, but she said with a laugh, “I’m not saying you can’t be out all hours of the night.

You’re a grown man, and whatever you’re doing is good for you.

Your color is better, and I haven’t seen light in your eyes like that in years.

But that’s why it’s even more important to talk about your grandfather. ”

Wariness crept up my spine. “What did you want to tell me?”

“That he didn’t have the gift for happiness,” she said, testing each word like it was precious.

My head shook without conscious thought. I remembered my grandfather’s wide smile, his laughter, the way he made conversation flow like the wine he poured. “I don’t know what you mean. He always seemed happy.”

“He was good at performing being happy, because he knew it drew people to him. No one can ignore the life of the party. But deep down, he was restless.” She looked down at her hands. “In some ways, he was empty. He needed other people to fill him up, but didn’t have anything to give back.”

It was like Judith had put the memories I’d excavated with Mari under a bright spotlight.

“And it made him look for affection wherever he could get it,” Judith continued, hurt creeping into her voice.

I thought of how he’d looked at women, even when Judith was in the same room. How sometimes it seemed like he barely saw her when she was right next to him. “I’m sorry. That must have been hard for you.”

She shrugged. “I chose life with him when I was young and naive, barely out of university. But we had some good times together, he and I. He loved me in his way, and I didn’t suffer too much.

” Judith leaned across the table and touched my cheek.

“But what I wish for you, my favorite boy, isn’t the kind of loud performance that Alexander put on.

I wish you contentment . I wish you being able to sit outside and feel the sun on your face, the soft grass under you, and to know that quiet pleasure that comes with enjoying being yourself, here and now.

” Her eyes were firm on mine. “And I ask you, what gives you that contentment?”

For the first time in my entire life, I muted all the noise in my head, the should s and supposed to s.

I thought about sitting on a bench on a spring day with my sketchbook, drawing the world as it went by.

I thought of listening to jazz and classical music with Judith in her flat, the instruments weaving a spell over me, drawing me away from all the day-to-day petty concerns.

I thought of hot chocolate and custard creams, long walks on the Heath, and reading in a comfortable chair with Mog in my lap.

Most of all, Mari. Mari smiling, Mari laughing, in my arms, in my bed.

I wasn’t like Alexander at all, empty and seeking. One woman filled me up to the brim. I loved making her smile and making her laugh. When she nestled into my side after we made love, I felt boundless.

Pain and joy had me putting my head in my hands. I loved her. My stroppy, stubborn, mouthy ball of sunshine. And I was going to have to let her go.

“Leo? Are any of the things you’re thinking of Ross and Co.?” Judith asked gently.

I hesitated. It would be like cutting a belay line, letting myself climb freely, risking that I’d fall. “No. I’m not thinking of the shop.”

I opened my mouth to confess about Vinay, about the possibility of letting the shop go, but Judith put her hand up.

“All right. That’s all I wanted to know.

” She smiled at me indulgently. “Now, can my tall, dark, and handsome grandson pick me out one of those colorful romance novels downstairs and call me another taxi?”

After she left, I divided my time between following up with all our festival speakers and thinking about everything that had happened today.

All families had their secrets, but some seemed to have more than most. Mari would shove away anything resembling pity, but that was what I felt for the child version of her, lies and silences stripping her of the life she was supposed to have had.

I hadn’t seen Jamie for long, but I hadn’t been able to ignore the way he looked at Mari, the determination in his eyes.

Right before closing, Mari came downstairs, moving slowly. “Jamie texted me,” she said, her voice careful.

I reached for her, and she came closer, let me take her hands in mine. “What did he say?”

“He’s asking if I can come for a cup of tea at his house next weekend. It’ll just be him and his wife and the three boys.” She gulped. “My half brothers.”

“That’s a lot,” I said, squeezing her hands gently. “How do you feel about it? Do you want to go?”

“I do.” She shifted on her feet, then took back one of her hands and picked at a loose bit of yarn on her jumper. “Will you come with me?” she asked shyly. “I know we’re not permanent, but I don’t think I can do this by myself.”

I understood that she just needed me to hold her hand, to feel me beside her as she confronted the life she’d missed. But I couldn’t help but feel like it was a gift, her trust, something golden and glowing that I could hold on to. “Of course I will.”

Her fingers moved toward her mouth, then she shoved her hand in her pocket. “I don’t know what to bring,” she said a little too quickly. “Or where exactly this place is. Or…”

“Shhh, darling, shhh.” I pulled her close, tried to pet the tension out of her back, not giving a damn who saw. “You have time,” I murmured into her sweet-scented hair. “We’ll figure out where it is, how to get there, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“I’m glad you can come,” she said quietly into my chest, and those words felt better than winter sunlight, even though they were just as fleeting.

I would treasure them anyway.