As they rounded the corner, Penny was greeted by the sight of her grandmother, standing with open arms, her smile bright. Her silver hair framed her face, and her light blue eyes sparkled.
“Gram!” Penny exclaimed, rushing forward to fall into her grandma’s warm hug.
“Penny, my dear,” Gram cooed, squeezing tight. “How I’ve missed you.”
“Me, too,” Penny said, emotion catching in her throat. When she eventually backed away, Penny turned. “Gram, this is Hawke Foster. Hawke, my grandmother, Edith.”
“An honor, ma’am,” Hawke said, extending his hand.
“Please, call me Edith,” she responded, swatting his hand away to give Hawke a hug.
“Edith,” Hawke corrected himself with a smile that reached his eyes as he returned the hug, “It’s really nice to meet you. I’ve heard so many wonderful things.”
“Then Penny has only told you the good things.” Gram laughed softly. “Come, let’s go to my apartment.”
Penny followed, watching the exchange, her heart swelling with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Something akin to healing.
Once they entered the apartment, Edith led them to a cozy nook by a gas fireplace. “Let’s sit.”
Penny sat on the couch next to Hawke, while Gram took the chair closest to the warm fire. Her gaze swept over the room, a shrine to the passage of time, each photo and trinket a waypoint in Gram’s life.
On the small table next to the chair, a younger Penny, all pigtails and freckles, beamed out from a picture frame, her eyes bright with youthful mischief.
Gram caught her looking. “Oh, I found this the other day and framed it.” She picked up the picture frame, tapping a finger against the glass covering a photograph of a young Penny mid-climb on a towering oak tree. “Look at you here, such a determined little thing.”
“I remember that day,” Penny said, drawn to the image, feeling the rough bark under her small palms and the triumph of reaching the top as if it were yesterday.
“Never one to back down, even when Pa said it was too high for a little girl.” Gram’s voice swelled with pride.
Pa passed away not long after that photo was taken.
“Only made me want to climb higher,” Penny replied with a laugh.
“Of course it did,” Gram said, her kind eyes twinkling. “You never did like being told what you couldn’t do.”
Hawke chuckled. “She hasn’t changed much, has she?”
“Oh, no,” Gram said, “not one bit.”
Penny laughed. She accepted the photo and grazed her fingers over the glass, tracing the outline of her younger self. “Sometimes, I think that stubbornness is what saved me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Saved you more times than just up in that tree,” Gram agreed.
Penny nodded, smiling at Gram, who smiled in return.
She had always been there for Penny, making sure she never felt inadequate despite what her mother’s leaving had done. And as Penny gazed at her gram, she realized that she didn’t need anyone else to fill the role of a mother in her life. Her gram was a treasured presence that Penny would forever cherish and be grateful for.
Hawke smiled, gentleness in his gaze. “Tell me,” he said to Penny. “Did your mischief ever end?”
“Hardly,” Gram answered for her, eyes alight with secrets only grandmothers keep. “She once—”
“Gram!” Penny cut in.
“All right, all right,” Gram relented with a soft chuckle. “Some stories are best kept between us girls.” She turned to Hawke. “Now, you tell me, Hawke,” she said, “do you know the story of how our Penny faced down a bully twice her size in fourth grade?”
He leaned in. “I can’t say that I do, but I’m not surprised.”
“Let me tell you...” Gram began, her words a soothing balm to Penny’s soul.
