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My grandma was stubborn, but did she honestly think I wouldn’t drop everything and run back to help her through the chemo, radiation and recovery? I’d been a much different person when I’d left here, but surely, I hadn’t been that awful? Gazing around the kitchen, I smiled at the fond memories we’d had in it before I’d left.
The scent of sage and bergamot filled my nostrils as a sense of homecoming simmered and warmed my senses. Soft lighting from a chandelier of white oak offered the room light. On the far side of the kitchen were French doors which opened up into the sprawling gardens in the backyard. Beyond it, a garden filled with wondrous flowers that bloomed from spring until early fall sat, bathed in the moonlight.
Striding to the old cooking stove, she set the kettle on the burner and fired it up before moving to the cupboard and retrieving two teacups. Her silver hair was in curlers, which made my lips twitch with amusement. For a woman in her early sixties, Grams didn’t look a day over forty-five.
She’d had children young and lost the love of her life before she’d hit thirty-five. In all truth, it should’ve aged her, but it hadn’t touched her outer shell. Inside, I knew she still missed Finn Flannagan, her one and only love since childhood.
“You are home for good?” she asked without turning away from the tray she was placing things on. “I thought you had a couple more classes to finish?”
“I did, but they were merely supplemental to the degrees I already have. You know, nowadays, a woman doesn’t need a man to be happy. We’ve evolved, and there are a lot of men here.” Of course, most were the ones who’d tormented me, but the town always had more men than women. Or it had when I’d left it. “And, I’m not settling until I find it,” I muttered.
“Found what, Moira Darling?” she asked, and the worry churning in her gentle, blue depths had my stomach becoming a ball of regret. I didn’t want to disappoint the one person who’d never let me down.
“The butterflies. The world ceasing to exist when our eyes meet for the first time. Not being able to breathe without him. I found a lot of men while traveling through the United Kingdom, but you told me to wait for those things before settling down. I want that with someone, but I also want whoever I end up with to feel those things, too. Besides, I’ll have time for that later. In the message, you said if I didn’t come home, I wouldn’t have time to see you again.”
I didn’t know how to feel about having discovered exactly that with a stranger on a shadowy highway. Rowman stopped the entire world from turning, even it went silent. He’d then made something inside of me come alive with voracious hunger to sip deeper from the bottomless well of sin he’d offered. Never before had I ever felt a connection. It left me spinning on how to handle my feelings and the response I’d had to him. I both hated and craved it at the same time, which left me reeling in a mass of confusion.
“Not everyone gets the love they seek. Sometimes, we have to take what the goddess offers. There’s no one in this town who would suit you, I’m afraid. And what message did I say such nonsense in?” She sat at the table, and I took the seat across from her.
“The one where you told me you were sick.”
The skin on her forehead wrinkled as her features crinkled with a look of confusion stamped over it. Her frail hands lifted the teapot to fill my cup before moving to fill her own, and the familiar scent of sweet butterfly pea flower combined with the earthy undertone of chamomile drifted to my nose.
“I didn’t call you and say I was sick, Grimoira. I’d never make you worry in such a manner.” She set the teapot down before continuing. “Besides, I’m not sick. I feel perfectly fine.”
Confusion shot through me as my stomach dropped. “No, you called and left a message saying you have cancer. Look, I’m not upset about coming home, but I know it was you, Grams. You told me they’d diagnosed you with an aggressive cancer and had little time left. You said if I wanted to see you again, I should come home before the end of summer. I know your voice.” Panic thrummed through me, forcing me to my feet, as Grams rose with me.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To get my phone so you can listen to the message. Is it brain cancer? Maybe you forgot you told me about it?”
“Grimoira Darling Bishop, I’d never tell you I was dying over a damn phone call, never mind a message.” Her tone was heavy with defensiveness. “Maybe you dreamed of it and thought it was real?”
I’d always had vivid, lucid dreams, but there was no way I uprooted my whole life because I hadn’t been able to discern a dream from reality. Before I could insist, I hadn’t been mistaken, her cool hands clasped mine and she smiled.
“No, it couldn’t have been.” Shaking my head, I felt my stomach sinking to the hardwood floor at my feet. “No, it wasn’t a dream! Before I’d even gotten out of bed that morning, I’d called and quit both of my jobs.”
“See? It’s not entirely impossible you dreamt it up after all. Many people have done the same thing, I’m sure.” She forced a smile, because more than likely, I was the only idiot who’d ever done it. I loved her a little more for not calling me out for being one, honestly.
“I don’t make rash decisions without concrete evidence,” I argued, even as she lifted one eye brow higher than the other.
“You just drove across the entire country without phoning home, first.” She had a valid point, but I’d replayed the message multiple times.
Rolling my eyes, I responded. “Besides that, of course.”
“Of course. You’re here now and how it happened is moot. Come, sit with me and have some tea. I’ve missed our late-night rituals the most since you’ve been gone. We’ll worry about the message tomorrow. Some of the girls are coming over around noon to discuss the book we’ve been reading. You should join us. They’d love to see you.”
“Speaking of tomorrow,” I muttered, returning to my seat. “Rowan Teivel said he’ll be here for tea around noon tomorrow. He’d like you to make scones.”
The moment my words were off the tip of my tongue, the color drained from her face. Narrowing my eyes on her hand, I watched the delicate tea cup shaking before she placed it on the saucer. The harsh sound of glass crashing together pierced my ears. Lifting my regard to the shock flittering in her eyes, my lips jerked down into a frown.
“Around noon?” she asked as she recovered her composure.
Her lips remained strained in a white line, which was how I’d always known something was bothering her as a child. It was the only way to discern if she was sad or felt any emotions at all. Grams was a tough cookie to crack. Once you got to really know her, you couldn’t help but love the eccentric woman beneath the hard exterior layer.
“What else did he say to you?”
“Not much,” I lied.
