Page 61 of Mountain Grump Protector

“Yes!” She shouts her interruption so loud, Murph rouses from his spot on the steps, and he runs down to join us, barking at our feet. “Yes,” she yells out. “I’ll marry you. I’ll stay. I’ll…well, I don’t know what else. But, yes!”

We’re both laughing and kissing as I pull her into my arms and spin her around because I’m never letting her go. Not again. Not ever.

Six Months Later…

Willow

The first thing I notice when we pull into Dad's driveway is that someone has shoveled the walk.

Not just a narrow path to the front door, either. The entire driveway has been cleared, right down to the packed snow beneath. The walkway leading to the porch has been salted so thoroughly that not a single patch of ice remains.

For a second, I sit in the truck, staring out the windshield at it, and then the realization sneaks up on me.

I didn't shovel it. I didn’t spend hours out there chipping at ice and laying down salt or sand.

For as long as I could remember, if I didn't do something, it simply didn't get done. If I didn't buy the groceries, nobody ate. If I didn't pay the bills, the lights got shut off, and if I didn't keep track of the appointments, medications, repairs, and every other little thing that came with holding a household together, it all fell apart.

It was too much, and it never should have been my load to carry.

I can see that so clearly now.

Letting go of all that responsibility hasn't been easy, and some days I'm still not sure what to do with myself.

“Ready?” Cal asks from beside me.

I blink and realize he’s already out of the truck and standing next to me, holding my door open, the sharp January air already stinging my cheeks.

I take one more look at the neatly shoveled drive and blow out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “I think so,” I say. “It’s different now.”

“Of course it is.” Cal holds out his hand for me. “And that’s a good thing.”

He’s not wrong. It is a good thing.

I let him help me down and together we walk up to the house that no longer feels like home.

Truthfully, it never did. Not the way the cabin on the mountain does.

Snow blankets the yard, covering most of the imperfections that used to make this place look so tired and run down. The old truck is long gone now, the broken couch taken to the dump. Even the siding looks fresher, but I know that’s probably my imagination.

Dad is waiting for us inside, sitting in his favorite chair when we come through the front door. He has a blanket over his lap, his cane propped beside his chair, and a hockey game on the TV.

He still limps. He still lives with pain. And he definitely still complains.

But he’s taking his medication properly now, eating real meals, drinking less beer, and spending a lot more time living than simply hiding from the world in his dark bedroom.

All thanks to Sandra, the home health nurse Cal and I hired for him. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that she’s been a miracle worker. I still don’t understand how she’s been able to get him to take his pills every day and eat without complaint. Let alone engage with the world the way he does.

Cal is pretty sure it has a lot to do with how she smiles at him and flirts enough to keep him engaged.

Whatever it is, I’ll take it.

“Well,” he grumbles. “About damn time you showed up.”

I laugh and lean down to kiss his cheek. He’s still an old grump, at least that hasn’t changed.

“Nice to see you, too.”

His eyes immediately move to Cal.