Page 125 of Smoky Mountain Dreams
“Of course they were happy to see you!”
“You know that wasn’t a given, Gran.”
“I know enough about Tim and Nova McMillan to know they’d befools not to just plum fall in love with the likes of you.”
“Well, I don’t know about love, but they liked me, I’mpretty sure.”
Gran’s eyes softened and she looked up at the ceiling,muttering a quiet “Thank you, Jesus.” She smiled at him. “And you thought noone would ever love you just the way you are. Thought no one would need you.”
“I don’t want to be needed,” he said—though truthfully hedid. “I just want someone to see me, all of me, and still want me around. Ijust want a family.”
“Well, it sounds like you’re on your way to having that.”
“I hope so.” It had felt that way. Tim and Nova had treatedhim like he was meant to be there, and he’d gone home with Jesse and the kidsthat night too.Home.In his head, he’d started totoy with the idea of Jesse’s house being his home.
“And good riddance to that awful Bob and your mama.”
“Gran…”
“Shh.” She tugged on his jacket. “What? You in some kind ofhurry? Aren’t you going to stay a spell?”
“I have nowhere else I’d rather be today.”
“Then go on now. Take off your coat and make yourselfcomfortable.”
Christopher hung it up on the small rack of pegs bolted intothe wall. It hosted an array of her sweaters and her long warm wool wintercoat. His navy peacoat looked huge next to her small things.
“You know what I think, Christopher?”
He sat again. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me, Gran.”
“I think maybe God wanted you to fail in Nashville so you’dbe there for Jesse to see up on that stage, shining down to light his way.”
“Gran, that’s like saying God wanted Marcy to end up braindead so that I could be with Jesse. I can’t believe in a God like that.”
Gran ran her fingers through Christopher’s hair, herexpression thoughtful. “What kind of God do you believe in Christopher?”
He was quiet a long moment before shrugging. “I guess Ibelieve in a God who gives us enough hope and joy to deal with the pain theworld doles out.”
“Write a song about that, baby, and sing it to me the nexttime you come. Deal?”
Christopher smiled. “How did you know I was writing musicagain?”
“I can see it in your face.” She touched the corners of hiseyes and then the edges of his lips. “You look inspired. First time in years.”
Christopher took her hands and kissed her fingers. Then he stoodand went back over to the rack of pegs. “I also came today because I havesomething for you.” He fished in the pocket of his coat for a green and redwrapped box. “Since I won’t be at Christmas this year and the next few weeksare going to be slammed with shows at SMD, I wanted to give it to you now.”
He pulled his chair closer handed it to her. “Before youopen it, there’s a story behind it that I think you’ll appreciate—probably morethan the present itself.”
He related how he’d gone to Jesse to request the locket, andhow that had started it all. “In a way, Gran, any happiness I have with Jessenow or in the future is because of you.”
Gran tsked and rolled her eyes, her gnarled fingers toyingwith the green ribbon and sliding over the smooth red paper. “No, no. If you’vefound happiness, you did it your own self, boy.”
She opened the wrapping carefully, like she always had,making sure to preserve the paper for later use. The box Jesse had put thelocket in was black velvet, and when she snapped it open, she gasped and puther hand to her chest. “Why, baby, this is beautiful!”
“Of course it is! Jesse made it.” Christopher showed her howit opened and how it could hold four photos. He’d even put them in already—oneof him, Jackie, and each of his cousins.
“Well, I declare. This is downright special.”
