Page 91 of More Than My Hometown

I won’t lie though. I kind of love it.

“Perfectly respectable,” I inform her with a firm nod. Then, I think better of my answer, leaning in to whisper. “And sometimes not so respectful…”

“As it should be. Every girl needs a rip in her jeans.”

I laugh, unable to hold it in any longer. It’s a phrase I’ve heard her mutter many times before and never thought anything about, usually attributing it to my need to follow my own path. But now that I hear it in this context, I’m starting to think it might be a bit too much information about my grandfather.

Although, good for Grandma…

“I’m happy to see you so happy, Maisey,” she continues, her voice turning serious. “There was a part of me that was worried when your mama told us about everything that happened with your job in Central America and that you were going to come spend some time back here to regroup. That’s never been who you are, my little free spirit. You always had your own drum to dance to. But you found your way.”

A single, wry chuckle escapes before I can stop it. If only she knew that I’m in even more of a pickle now than I was a last month when I arrived back in town. That this happiness that she’s so happy about is not a facade, per se, but may be a little bit in jeopardy right now. My heart not far behind.

I look up at her, wishing I had a way to tell her everything. Other than outright telling her everything. That is an option, other than the fact that I literally told Ewan not fifteen minutes ago that I wanted to keep it between him and me. Doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind.

“Something on your mind?” Grandma asks.

You could say that…

Executive decision—Grandmas don’t count.

That, and it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Right? Right. Ewan will understand. Especially since my seeking forgiveness will involve whatever the female equivalent of rather respectable wienering is.

“I am happy,” I tell her, not bothering to hide my smile. “I did find my way, because what I didn’t realize was that drum was leading me back here. That…”

I sigh, sitting back in the chair and slouching down. I wait for her to correct me—tell me that’s not how a lady sits—but she doesn’t. Simply lets me loaf here with bad posture.

“That its matching beat was here the whole time, waiting for me.”

“But…”

“How do you know there’s a but?” I challenge.

“Maisey, you’re not sitting in that cheap folding chair like a discarded sock without there being a but.”

Fair point.

I sit up, straightening myself out, not liking the discarded sock comparison one bit. That was a little too vivid.

“Have you ever had to make an impossible choice? One that you somehow know that no matter which option you choose, you’re always going to wonder what if?”

The corner of my grandmother’s mouth lifts, her expression softening as she thinks. “At the time I thought so. Although looking back…”

She shrugs, her contentment still clear.

“What happened? How did you choose?”

“Life kind of chose for me. Made it clear which path I was supposed to take. Turns out, there wasn’t as much wondering as I expected. Almost none, actually. Looking back on it now, I can’t even imagine having chosen the other option.”

I nod, letting her answer settle inside me as more people pour into the tent, the noise level kicking up a notch. Pretty soon we’ll be interrupted, people wanting an audience with the guest of honor.

“I’d really like some of that kind of clarity right about now,” I tell her.

“You’ll find it. When and where you least expect it. The universe has a weird way of gifting those kinds of things to us.” Reaching over, she takes my hands, squeezing them. “Know what I would like?”

“What?”

“That drink we were promised. I wasn’t kidding about being parched.”