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“You should have called me right away!”
He shrugged. “He made me promise not to tell you. Said he wanted to leave things up to you. I agreed it was your choice. Your move. Look,” he said and leaned closer to me. “In general, I think it’s best to be totally honest and upfront about things. Usually, I’d kick his ass out of the bar if he’d done something to hurt you, but the boy is clearly in love and clearly feels terrible about what happened. He said he fell in love with you after reading your letters to Dan and then when he met you, it was game over.”
“He said he was in love with me? He told you that?”
“I believe his words were to the effect of I’m in love with her, Sir. I think I fell in love with her on letter three but when I saw her in the bar that day? Goner.” Gramps smiled and took another drink. “Kinda hard to argue with a man who confesses his love for you.”
“Dan died because of him.”
“Dan died doing his job,” Gramps said, his voice soft.
The waitress put our food down and we were silent for a moment.
“He loved his job. That’s what you always told me when I said he had a dangerous profession,” Gramps said. “He was a hero.”
“He was,” I said and my eyes teared up, my vision blurring.
“If you ask me, so was Beckett. He almost lost his life trying to test equipment that was intended to make combat safer for our soldiers. I checked around after he came here and talked to a few friends I still have in high places. I believe Beckett has a few medals to show for what he did.”
I didn’t say anything. I wiped tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand and tried to get ahold of myself. I had to work in thirty minutes and wanted to be in control over my emotions.
“It’s up to you, of course,” Gramps said and handed me a tissue. “You have to decide whether to see him again. I liked him, if that means anything.”
“His family is in the Irish Mafia.”
“He told me that, too. I checked his uncle out. Don’t worry,” Gramps said. “Apparently, Beckett is keeping tabs on his uncle for the DEA.”
“He told me he was an undercover DEA Agent. I wasn’t sure whether to believe him.” I wiped my eyes with the tissue and blew my nose. Then I looked back at Gramps. “You like him? You think I should give him another chance?”
He shrugged. “I like him, but it’s not my choice. You have to decide whether to give him another chance. Or not. But I know Marines. Top notch men and there are not too many good men around these days. That’s all I can say about it.”
I sat in silence and pushed my food around on my plate. Usually, I’d have been all excited about eating the meat pie that my Gramps’s kitchen was so famous for, but my appetite had gone completely.
We didn’t talk any more about Beckett or Dan or the whole mess. Instead, Gramps caught me up with the news of the bar and what had been done to renovate it in the year since I left. He told me about his friend from the NYPD who died a few months earlier, and I recalled the man from my time working there. He even caught me up with news of my mother, who was living up north with her new husband. She was apparently trying acupuncture to cure her pain and had gone off her pain meds. I hoped it was true because they made her a zombie.
“You should go up there and visit,” he said. “I know she misses you and feels as if she’s been absent from your life for too long.”
“She has,” I said, an old sore spot in my chest hurting. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t let things go too long. People die, sweetheart. You know that only too well.”
I forced a smile and nodded. He was right. I should patch things up with my mom, if she was making a real effort to go off her meds.
As to Beckett, I couldn’t at that moment consider forgiving him, but if Gramps was so willing to give him a pass, maybe I had to seriously consider it.
I’d give it some time.
I spent a long time that night at the pub thinking about what my grandfather said about Beckett.
He said he knew Marines, and they were honorable and strong, heroic and loyal. I knew Gramps was right.
I tried to think of what I’d tell Leah if it were her in my shoes and I knew the whole story. I’d probably tell her to give him a chance.
Just the way she was telling me to give Beckett a chance.
“So,” Gramps said before he left for the night. “How are you doing, kiddo? Going to forgive him? Give him another chance?”
I smiled. “I’m thinking seriously about it.” Then I put down my bar cloth. “Why do you care? It seems like you like him.”
