Page 53 of Bringing Home the Bacon
“Well, you just said you were waiting for one of your kids to come home, so I thought maybe you’d gotten a little confused.”
She scoffs. “I’m sharp as a tack, missy, and you know it. I was talking about your beau.”
“You’re waiting up for Bacon?”
She already considers him one of her kids?
“Do you have another beau I’m not aware of?” she asks. “I’m trying to keep up with the times, Colleen, but my goodness, you’re asking a lot of an old woman all at once.”
I chuckle in the dark. “No, Gran. Bacon is my only beau.”
“That’s good.” She gets up when the kettle squeals. “Don’t get me wrong, if you told me you were throupling now and you had a boyfriend named Beef and another named Tenderloin, I would find a way to accept and support it. I dip into those spicy books you leave around the house, and I’ve learned a thing or two. What is it called when ladies have several fellas? ‘Don’t pick?’”
“Why choose,” I gently correct. “Not to get technical, but the example you just gave would be considered a quad.”
“A what?” She pours her tea.
“Beef, Bacon, Tenderloin, and I wouldn’t be a throuple. We’d be a quad.”
“I see. Well, regardless, I would support the love you four found together.”
“You really would, wouldn’t you?” I say, somewhat in awe of all the changes Gran has made this year. If a woman in her early seventies can keep learning and growing, maybe there’s hope for me too.
She moves to where I’m standing in the doorway and places a warm, weathered hand on my cheek. “All I want is for my grandchildren… ” She moves her hand to my belly. “…and my great-grandchildren to be happy.”
“Thanks, Gran. I love you.”
“I love you too, sweet girl. We don’t say that enough in our family, do we?”
“No, I guess we don’t.” I hesitate, not sure I should say what wants to come out of my mouth next. “You know who else told me they love me tonight?”
“Who, dear?”
“Bacon.”
“Well, isn’t that lovely,” she says softly.
“I think he was drunk, and he told me over text, so I don’t know if that counts, but?—”
“It counts.” Gran nods. “And it’s lovely.”
“You don’t think it’s too soon?” I ask, my voice sounding like a little kid’s, even to my own ears.
“Too soon for what?” she says. “For love? I’ve never understood these arbitrary rules people place on relationships. ‘You should wait at least one month before saying ‘I love you.’ You should date for at least six months before getting engaged. You should be engaged at least a year before you’re married.’ Should, should, should. Can we all stop should-ing on ourselves? It’s all nonsense.”
“Aren’t you the woman who said ‘rules are rules for a reason’ on repeat throughout my entire childhood?” I laugh.
“I am that woman,” Gran says. “But know this, Colleen Murphy Bedd, rules apply to farm chores and curfews. Rules never apply to love.”
Having said her piece, she shuffles back to the table to enjoy her tea while I head back upstairs, my heart fuller than it’s been in weeks.
I may not be ready to say those three words back to Bacon yet, but one thing is certain: I love my Gran to the moon and back.
I don’t know what I’d do without her, and I hope it’s a really long time before I have to find out.
Chapter 18
Bacon
