AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Present day—The Dickxie mansion, Nashville
Iturn off the shower and when I look at my reflection in the mirror, I see my eyes are red from crying. “He isn’t worth it,” I tell myself, although I don’t believe a single word that leaves my mouth.
After gassing up the pickup truck the four of us share between us, I head out to see my grandpa who fixes up guitars from his home. He has all the time in the world since selling his construction company.
Parking the car, I stare at the house. No matter how many times I visit Grandpa’s ranch home, it always takes my breath away.
Walking up the steps of the wrap-around porch, I let my hand glide over the wooden railing. I don’t know how many acres he still owns, but beyond the beautiful grassland I can see the trees and the mountains in the distance. This is my dream home: two stories high, painted white, with a big old porch wrapped around it. The house even has blue shutters like Noah’s in the freaking Notebook.
I smile when Grandpa pushes open the screen door. “Hi, Allie. Here to pick up my babies?”
“I sure am, Gramps,” I say, before giving him a kiss on his cheek. The old devil flashes me one of his sweet grins.
We lost Grandma early last year. She and Grandpa had been married for over five decades.
He is reaching seventy-five and I don’t know why, but he looks so much frailer than before I left for New York. He shuffles inside the house and I follow.
The place is still the same, even with Grandma being gone for more than a year now. Her knitting still lays on the chair she used to sit in next to the fireplace. The photos of their travels together hang on the living room walls, along with photos of both my grandparents during the Vietnam war. Grandpa had done a couple of tours there and Grandma had been a nurse. They’d first met in Woodstock and later again in Vietnam.
Grandpa catches me staring at a picture of her standing in front of a helicopter, shading her eyes against the sun. She was the same age as me when she was over there.
“Been thinking about the past a lot,” he says, looking at the picture, and I pick up on the love in his voice.
“How are you, Grandpa?”
“Doing okay, Squirrel,” he answers. “I would love to have a bunch of great-grandchildren to take my mind off things,” he says before smiling at me.
“Don’t start. Dad has been dropping the same hints.”
“How’s that man of yours doing?” he asks, winking at me.
He knows all about me and Navarone, mostly because Dad can’t keep anything to himself. “He came back—can you believe it? Although I don’t know if I can still officially call him my man.”
Grandpa lays his hand on my shoulder. “Remember, little Allie, us men can use a good ass-whooping once in a while. Your grandma wasn’t afraid to call me out when I was being an asshole.”
“Grandpa.” I smile.
“Sure, we were married for fifty years, but the first couple we didn’t spend a whole lot of time together.”
“You never told me that,” I say, while I follow him into his studio in the back of the house.
He sits in his favorite green velvet chair, the armrests worn down. “We were both dealing with our own pasts at the time.” Pointing to a couple framed pictures on the wall, he says, “We always found a way back to each other no matter how long it took us.”
“I don’t know if Navarone and I could ever come back to each other like you and Grandma did; it’s been too long. Too many things have happened, or didn’t happen in our case.” Grimacing, I stare at the photographs.
“You kids today see time differently than we did back then. We didn’t have the technology you guys have. We used to call and send each other letters. I had a pager once.” He makes a face.
I giggle. “I don’t see him sending me a letter, or a page.” I look at the guitars in various states of repair on the work counter.
“Maybe he will tell you what he feels for you in a song. That last one playing on the radio every other day is not half bad.” Putting his hand on mine, he pinches reassuringly when he sees my small smile. “Grandma still gave me a chance after every stupid stunt I pulled. And I fucked up, like you kids say nowadays, more times than I can count.”
“You, Grandpa? I don’t believe it.” I grin.
“I was young once.” The side of his mouth hikes up.
“Have you and Dad been talking?” I ask, laughing.
“Jack and I haven’t been swapping notes.” He feigns innocence.
