Page 26 of My Mountain Man Grump
Gran puts a fresh pot of coffee on, and we take a seat on her porch. It overlooks the horse field and the valley, and the view helps to calm my nerves even more.
She sets a plate of baked goods on the table, and I ignore it as usual. She’s found it hard to accept my no sugar rule, which may be too harsh too.
Gran eases into the seat next to mine, and we both stare out at the view. “So, you let her leave.”
I knew this was coming, but instead of anger at Gran for meddling, all I feel is a dull ache.
“Yeah.” I sip my coffee and keep looking out at the undulating hills and towering mountains behind. “She deserves better than me, Gran.”
Gran pats my knee like I’m a boy again and not a grown-ass man. “What makes you say that, honey?”
I risk a glance, and she’s looking at me curiously and with warmth. I’m reminded of her strength when Mom died and then Mel. Always there for me, as solid as the mountains and as comforting as a warm blanket.
All the fear that I’ve been holding in bubbles to the surface. “Because I let Mel down. If I’d been here I would have noticed the changes. I would have gotten her help.”
Gran squeezes my knee. “I know you would have, honey. But that wouldn’t have made a bit of difference. That disease had a hold of her, and it doesn’t matter if we’d noticed earlier or not. It would have been the same outcome.”
She’s told me this before. The doctors told me this. It was a rare aggressive strain of cancer that ate her up from the inside. But I can’t accept that I couldn’t do anything. I was away in Afghanistan thinking everything was fine when a disease was slowly eating away at my wife. It’s unacceptable. In defending my country, I left my family undefended, and I can’t do that again.
“Mel hid it from all of us,” Gran continues. “I should have noticed too.”
“No. You couldn’t have. When you see someone every day, you don’t notice the changes.”
Gran shrugs. “If you don’t blame me, then why do you still blame yourself?”
Her shrewd gaze bores into me, and I consider her question.
I left the military when Mel got sick, and I dedicated myself to my family. But it wasn’t enough. She still died. She still broke my heart and not just mine, but the hearts of my two little girls. Kyra’s too young to remember, but her cries for her mamma will haunt me for the rest of my days. Trying to explain to them where Mommy had gone and why she wasn’t coming back broke my heart more than losing Mel did.
Olivia took to hiding under the trampoline for hours, and I had to crawl under there to drag her out screaming for her mother.
For months we all slept together in the big bed, their little hands clinging to me for comfort, their bodies twitching in the night as they cried out in their sleep, searching their dreams for a mother who was never coming home.
I gave them all the love I could, hugging them tight and taking their tears and confusion and pain.
Eventually, as the days passed, we formed new memories. I took them horse riding and swimming and to the park. We played for hours out in the yard and read books snuggled up in bed.
When I needed to grieve in private, they had sleepovers at Gran’s cabin. As the months, then years passed, the memory of their mother faded, the pain eased, and I got my happy girls back.
I learned to cook healthy meals from scratch and gotthem into sports, then dancing, activities to keep them active and happy.
It’s been a hard four years, but I’ve built a happy home for my girls, one where there will be no more heartache and loss.
It hits me then, the real reason I can’t let Carrie in. It’s not because I’m scared I’ll let her down. It’s because I’m scared she’ll let us down.
The thought makes me sit up straight. “I don’t want my girls to go through any more heartache.”
I know it’s the truth as I speak it.
“I understand that, Cole. I really do.” Gran takes a cupcake from the plate.
“But have you ever thought that you might be depriving them too? That those girls might the missing out on a whole lot of love?”
She pops the cupcake in her mouth, and her expression goes soft. “Hmm. These are good.”
“They’ve got me and they’ve got you. We’ve been just fine for the last four years.”
Gran swallows her cupcake and washes it down with a sip of coffee. She sets her mug on the table and sighs. “I’m not going to be around forever you know.”
