Page 75 of Bringing Home the Bacon
“I don’t know what you mean.” I turn to the squealing kettle.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Gran stares me down like she used to when I was a kid and left the freezer door open. “This nonsense about needing to be on your own. Moving out of the lovely home you’ve created with Bacon.”
“Gran, were you or were you not the person who told me just a few months ago that I should focus on writing?” I pour hot water into both of our mugs, return the kettle to the stove, and sit down beside her.
“That was me, yes. But at no point did I say you had to move out on the man you love in order to do it. I swear, young people today are so extreme! It’s all or nothing with you kids!”
“For the last time, Gran, I needed to prove that I could be on my own. That I could rely only on myself.” I’ve tried explaining this to her many times, but she just doesn’t get it. “Over and over again in my life, I’ve let people save me. My parents died? You and Granddad stepped in to take care of me. Girls were bullying me at school? The Bedd brothers came to my rescue. I got pregnant from a one-night stand? A gorgeous man swooped in with a beautiful new home for me to live in and all but begged to support me financially. Not only that, but he came up with a whole plan for how he can contribute to my family’s failing farm.”
Gran interjects, “Well now, I wouldn’t say our farm is failing. We’ve hit some bumps in the road, but?—”
“I’m tired of taking the easy way out!” I shout.
You could hear a pin drop after my outburst.
Rule #1 in our house growing up: you do not raise your voice to Gran.
“Colleen Bedd,” Gran says softly after a few moments of silence.
“Gran, I’m sorry I yelled, I’m just?—”
“You’re just going to listen to me right now. That’s what you’re going to do,” she says fiercely. “I heard you say your piece. Now it’s your turn to hear me say mine.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say.
“I want you to hear me very closely, young lady. You, Colleen Bedd, have never taken the easy way out. Never.”
“But—”
“Never,” she repeats. “You were ten years old when you lost your parents. That is a terrible tragedy to have to face. And you faced it with more grace than people five times your age could have managed. You certainly handled it better than I did.”
“But, Gran, you lost your son. I can’t imagine what that must have been like.” I place my hands on my belly. “I haven’t even met these two yet, and just the thought of losing them makes me—” My voice breaks, and I swipe at my eyes. I can’t bear to even finish that thought.
Gran’s eyes go glassy. “It was an incredibly difficult time, and I mourn your father to this day. But in case I’ve never told you this outright, I need you to know: it was my honor to step up and become your primary parent. You and your brothers—and now these two great-grandbabies—are the joy of my life. You are the blessings I was given after a great storm.”
“That’s…” I grab a tissue from the table and blow my nose. “That’s beautiful, Gran.”
“It’s the truth.” She shifts gears from sadness to her usual no-nonsense attitude. “Now, I’d like you to reflect on what you said a moment ago. Every example you gave of taking the easy way out was actually just someone loving you. Your grandfather and I raised you because we love you. Your brothers defended and protected you because they love you. And that very sexy Bacon boy of yours? He wants to build a life with you because he loves you.” She reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. “Let people love you.”
The light tap of a truck horn sounds from outside.
Gran gets to her feet. “That’s your eldest brother. He and Lia brought me tonight and are driving me home.” She walks to the window with her mug and peels back the curtain. She waves to them. “Can’t say I’m too fond of being beeped at, but I suppose I’ll let this one slide.”
“You?” I chuckle. “You’re going to let something slide?”
She shrugs. “None of us love each other perfectly. What matters is that we try.”
“You’re getting wise in your old age, Gran.”
She points a finger at me. “Don’t kid yourself, missy. I’ve been wise at every age.”
I laugh and blow my nose again. “You’re right. You have.”
She takes a sip from her mug and winces. “Though I was dead wrong about this beverage. Red Raspberry leaf tea tastes like dirt.” She pours her tea out in the sink. “Can I scrub this mug before I go?”
“No, no, I’ll get it. Ethan’s waiting for you.” I unlock and open the door.
Gran joins me in the doorway, her purse slung over her arm.
