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Eva scanned the unfolded page for a long minute, putting her hand over her mouth at one point, breathing heavily. Then she turned her gaze up to me, her eyes wide, shocked, tears already threatening.
“Nick… tell me this some kind of joke. Please tell me there’s an explanation for this.”
Chapter 13
Eva
Of all the words I’d expected to see written on that page, the disclosures, the revelations, perhaps the surprises…it was a simple name that sent me reeling. That had my heart twisting in agony and loss, and yet, wistful, joyful remembrance too.
Davis.
The man was quite elderly when I’d first met him, not long after Nick had first introduced me to his family so many years ago. Nick had wanted to wait to have me meet him, telling me he was saving the best for last.
Nick hadn’t lied either.
With his sweeping, full whiskers and piercing ice-blue eyes, Davis had from the start reminded me strongly of the pictures of Britain’s George V, or Nicholas II of Russia. With his rumbling, deep voice, something that would have done John Huston proud, his unique presence—and profound kindness—only charmed me more.
I never understood exactly why Nick’s grandpa and I became so close, but we had. He was the epitome of male caring and acceptance and encouragement that I never—ever—had as a kid.
I was the granddaughter he never had, but always longed for.
Reading the words again, I still couldn’t quite believe what they said, nor that this was something Davis had put into motion.
“This…what thefuckis this, Nick?”
He sat back down on his recliner, though he looked anything but at ease. “Read it to me. I want to know what it says. Can’t be any worse than how things are going so far today.”
“You really didn’t read it?”
He lowered his chin. “Come on, Eva. The envelope was sealed, wasn’t it?”
“How do I know you didn’t read it first, then put it in this envelope?” I didn’t know why I accused him of such a thing, and the pinched look on his face made me instantly regret it. A cheap shot was what it was.
“If you really think I’d do that, then you’d better just recite the words right now, don’t you think? If that’s the sum total of your regard for me, then I guess I’ll finally agree with you that thisisa waste of our time.” He looked away then, his lips curved in something uncomfortably close to a scowl, the shake of his head putting an exclamation point on his palpable hurt and frustration at what I’d said.
Davis had known, of course, that my marriage to Nick was on the rocks. Davis was one of the few people I felt comfortable enough to disclose that to. His cancer had already been diagnosed by that point, and though I was loath to add to Davis’ troubles, I couldn’tnottell him. He meant too much to me—and I to him.
What I hadn’t expected though was Davis begging me—even to the point of extracting a promise from me—to doeverythingI could to make it work, to keep at it, to stay together.
“You’re perfect together,” he’d always liked to say to me, his trademark grin revealing the intricate and extensive network of crags and wrinkles in his face that somehow only made him more dear to me.
Both of my grandfathers had died before my birth, and my own father was little more than a sperm donor, running out on Mom a few months after I was born.
Davis had filled that void in me, though, that gulf of need for closeness and understanding. I don’t think I’d even realized howmuchI’d craved it until the first time I had a real conversation with him, when he’d confided in me how much he missed his wife—who’d died when Nick was still a young boy.
I’d been able to let my guard down with him too, to let Davis see the pain that I felt at never knowing a man—aside from Nick, of course—who was actually there for me. Who accepted me—and valued me for who I was.
It was in that moment during my heartfelt—and unexpectedly tear-filled confession of my pain—that I’d first realized how wonderful a grandfather could be…and just how much I’d been missing.
From that day onward, we were close. I don’t think even Nick realized just how close. He had, of course, encouraged that bond, but I suspected he didn’t completely understand the depth of my connection with Davis.
And that was okay.
Somehow, that made itmorespecial, and it made Davis myrealgrandfather that much more in my mind—and my heart—to have it be something truly known only to the two of us.
I sighed, clearing my throat. “Fine, I’ll read it.”
But as I read aloud the message from Davis laying things out, I couldn’t help but hear the words of his counsel, delivered in his warm, gravelly voice from that day as he held my hand, years ago:
