Page 72 of Saving Saul

Saul and I will build that bridge. Not just for him. Not just for me. But for the life we’re creating together—one note, thread, and leap at a time.

FINDING FOREVER

SAUL

I sitacross from Grandmother in her kitchen, the air thick with the aroma of spices and the quiet strength that always seems to surround her. The steam from her teapot curls into the air between us, but her gaze is sharper than the scalding liquid she pours into my cup. Her hands, weathered but steady, hold years of wisdom, and I know she can see straight through me.

"Grandmother," I begin my voice tight, betraying my uneasiness. "I am torn. Tessa misses New Orleans—her catering business and her roots. And I have commitments here, to family, to the people who look to me for guidance."

She tilts her head slightly, her piercing eyes softening with understanding. "Ah, Saul," she says, her voice a warm melody of the old ways, rich with the rhythm of stories passed down through generations. Then, she gives me an Akan proverb to ponder. “When two carry, it does not hurt. Have you allowed her to know and take some of your burdens? Or are you coddling her and just designing a life around her because you are scared? You have to let go of some of that control. You must be brave enough to plant roots together in fresh soil.”

She shakes her head. “You were the same way about your sister. You didn’t want her to go to Oxford because you wantedher close to you and us. You’re scared, but you can’t stay in Ghana forever. And Tessa won’t allow it. Her roots will wither and die without the water of the women who made her.”

I let her words hang in the air, staring into the depths of my tea as if it held the answers I couldn’t seem to find. “Our roots,” I murmur, “are worlds apart. Her soil and mine... I fear the reach will break us."

Grandmother places her hand on mine, its weight grounding me. "Then you must be the wise gardener," she says, her tone gentle but firm, like the steady hand that guided me as a child. "Prune what hampers growth. Graft your branches together. Create something new, strong—something that honors both soils. She won’t leave you."

Her words settle over me, their truth a slow burn in my chest. I glance up, meeting her gaze, and see only love there, a love that has held me through every storm I’ve faced.

“I know you’ve never really opened your heart to another after your mother died. You were such an angry and closed-off boy. But this woman, she’s given you life. Don’t reward her by being intractable. I know what you did to Patrick. I know the sacrifice you make for those you love. This is just another sacrifice.”

"Thank you, Grandmother," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of the kitchen fan. Gratitude wells up in me, but so does something else—resolve.

Later, I sit at my desk, her words echoing. The room is quiet except for the rhythmic tapping of my fingers against the polished wood. Duty, family, and legacy anchor me to Ghana, but my heart beats to a different rhythm now. It’s a rhythm that dances to Tessa’s laughter, the symphony of her voice when she speaks of home, and the memory of her hands brushing against mine as we craft dishes that tell the stories of two worlds.

"Prune what hampers growth," I murmur, the phrase rolling through my mind like a mantra. My eyes drift to the framed photo of Tessa on my desk, her smile a beacon of light against the shadows of doubt. I can hear her voice, warm and full of dreams, talking about New Orleans as if it were a living, breathing thing.

I must prune my fear and lack of complete trust in her love for me, as well as my need to control every aspect of my environment and my guilt.

"Create something new," I echo Grandmother’s advice. The words are a spark, igniting a fire in me. It’s not just about preserving what we’ve built here; it’s about building a life where Tessa and I can thrive together. Her dreams, her city—they’re not obstacles. They’re threads in our expanding tapestry.

I stand, the muscles in my legs coiled with energy as I move to the window. The Accra skyline stretches before me, vibrant and alive.

“Something strong," I whisper, the words grounding me. "Something that honors both soils."

Fear flickers in the back of my mind—fear of what we might lose, of the sacrifices we might have to make. But it’s eclipsed by the vision of what we could gain: a love that transcends oceans, cultures, and expectations.

I clench my fists, not out of frustration, but with the resolve of a man who knows his next step.

Marriage. This time, it’s the right time.

I findmyself at the beach, standing on the water’s edge as the waves come in, their rhythm constant and unwavering. The sun descends, casting fiery and golden hues across the horizon, yetmy heart remains restless. I feel a tightness in my chest with anticipation, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Tessa.

Then I see her.

She’s running toward me, her silhouette backlit by the dying light, the wind teasing her curls into a halo. My breath catches. She’s here. My Tessa. The woman who’s made me question everything I thought I knew about love and life.

“Saul,” she calls softly, her voice carrying over the hush of the waves.

I turn to face her, seeing her slicing through my tension like a blade. “Tessa.” Her name escapes my throat, rough and full of everything I’ve held back.

Otherwise, it sounds like Saul has forgotten her name (!) lol

She steps closer, her gaze searching mine, and for a moment, the space between us feels impossibly vast. But then she speaks, her voice trembling with honesty. “I’ve been thinking, Saul. About us, about this life we’re building.”

Her words are a lifeline, and I cling to them, desperate to know where they’ll lead. “Tell me,” I urge, my voice low, steady, though my heart races like a wild thing.

She takes a deep breath, her eyes locking onto mine. “New Orleans is my soul. It’s where I find my grounding, my inspiration. But I now see how much Accra means to you—your family and legacy. I don’t want to make you choose, Saul. I think... I think we can have both. We can build something that bridges our worlds. If you meet me halfway.”

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