Page 26 of Silent Heart

“Why don’t you tell us,” my grandfather nearly growled.

Sounds of confusion choked on my tongue as I opened my mouth to offer them something.

“Sarah Porter called. Apparently, she saw you this morning at Betty’s with a man. The same one you’re giving swimming lessons to,” Grandma explained.

I gaped. They were giving me the third degree over my choice of breakfast companionship? “Yes, I invited my student to breakfast. He’s new to the lake.”

“Don’t get defensive,” Grandpa barked.

That was the furthest thing from the tone I gave, but it seemed he was bound and determined to read something into the comment.

“Harley, Sarah seemed to think it was a date,” Grandma coaxed. “We’re a little concerned that you’re catching feelings for…someone you shouldn’t.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.“It wasn’t a date, but I could see how a gossip like Sarah might think that,” I said hotly. “But whatI do is my business. I’m an adult, Gran. Grown up, and well into my prime.”

“You could act like it,” Grandpa snapped.

I sighed. “I do, every single day.”

“I won’t have you sleeping around with someone like him!” Grandpa crushed the now empty can.

“Will you butt out!” I launched to my feet. “I’m not sleeping with anyone, but if I was, that would be my business.”

“Not while you live under my roof.” His sharp glare promised consequences.

I pressed my eyes closed. “Look, I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me over the years—”

“No, you’re not! Or you wouldn’t be with one ofthem.”

Alcohol mixed with small-mindedness brought out the strong divide that still lingered in these rural American towns. My grandparents hated the rich lake folk. In this modern day and age, it was hard to believe there was still an us-versus-them mentality, but it wasn’t something that died with the times.

“I don’t need this. I am leaving for college this fall, but if I have to, so help me, I’ll sleep on someone’s couch until I can get into my campus dorm.”

“So ready to run away,” he sneered.

“Harley, dear, your grandfather is just concerned,” Grandma said, trying to placate.

“Don’t tell me what I feel!” he raged.

A long breath left my lungs. “It’s late. You’ve had a bit to drink.” I had to raise my voice to talk over him. “I’m going to bed. Let’s chat later.”

“When?” he shouted. “You’re never home. You’re working—just so you can leave—or you’re slumming with the rich folk.”

“I’m not slumming,” I bit out angrily.

“I expected better from you,” he huffed.

I pursed my lips. “Goodnight, Grandpa. Grandma.”

Slinging my bag over my arm, I trudged to the stairs. The old man was a loud drunk, but he was never mean physically. I didn’t fear leaving my grandmother downstairs with him.

As I patted my face dry in the mirror, a knock came on the bathroom door. I opened it, and my grandma slid into the space, shutting the door behind her.

“Your grandpa loves you very much,” she began.

It was our usual song and dance. Only tonight, I was tired of pretending his outbursts were okay.

“Look, I’m not some kid. I understand he finds change hard, but I’m pursuing my dreams, and he can either be happy for me or be quiet about it.” I dabbed cream on my cheeks. The expensive goop did little to fight the fine lines that seemed to crease overnight.

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