Life Without You

That certainly made sense, especially in those days. Lord knew my great-grandparents weren’t made of money. With ten mouths to feed, every penny was pinched within an inch of its life, so the idea of having enough to spare to pay for a wedding was a bit ludicrous.

“Who was getting married?” I asked, finally closing my mouth around my first spoonful of thick broth and noodles.

“Grammie.”

I choked on my soup.

Not, Grammie and me. Just, Grammie.

Which meant that Grammie had been getting ready to get married to someone else.

Who?

This was something I’d definitely never heard about.

“Should let your soup cool down a little before you start eating it,” he scolded, shaking his head.

I coughed some more, trying to catch my breath.

Seriously? He’d just dropped a bombshell like that, and he thought the reason I was choking on my soup was because it was hot?

“It’s fine,” I said, finally finished with my coughing fit. “The soup’s fine,” I added, shaking my head. “I was just surprised, is all. I didn’t know Grammie had ever been engaged to anyone but you.” I paused. Maybe I’d misunderstood. “That is what you meant, isn’t it? That Grannie Rose was saving up for Grammie to marry someone who was…not you?”

He nodded.

“Who?” I probed, feeling as though I was pulling teeth.

“George MacMillan.”

If I’d thought the statement about Grammie being engaged to someone before she met Grandpa had been a bombshell, this was a nuclear blast. I was definitely unprepared for that one.

I gaped at Grandpa, who was as placidly chewing his chicken sandwich as though we were in the middle of discussing the weather.

“George MacMillan?” I repeated, somewhat unnecessarily.

Grandpa nodded, still chewing.

“What happened?” I asked, every available cell in my brain actively working to try and piece together something plausible that would explain this revelation.

He shrugged. “Oh, he decided he had a thing for Annabelle, and that was it. He ran off with her, and next thing anybody knew, they came back married.”

I blinked and gaped some more.

He finally ventured a glance my way, probably wondering at my long silence.

“Is there something wrong with your soup? Do you need to take it back up there?” he asked, his tone implying that it was the most reasonable question in the world. Clearly, the fact that I had only managed to take one mouthful of my soup could have nothing to do with the information he’d so casually imparted only seconds ago.

I shook my head vigorously. “Soup’s fine, Grandpa. Why have I never heard this story? Does Mama know?”

He gave me a look that seemed just on this side of a scowl. Apparently, I was pressing for details that he wasn’t prepared to give.

“It’s not that important,” he said with yet another shrug. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to wear his shoulders out from all the shrugging.

“Not that important?” I asked incredulously. That was insane. Of course it was important—it was part of our family history. If Grammie had married George MacMillan, none of us would even be here.

“Not really,” he replied. “It happened, and everyone just had to accept it. Then she met me, and we got married.”

The End, Amen.

“Yes, but—” I stammered, not willing to let it drop so easily.

“But what? It’s not complicated. George was an idiot, simple as that.” He took another bite of his fries. “Finish your soup before it gets cold,” he prompted, ready to move on.

“That still doesn’t explain anything,” I countered, hoping he would give me more.

“Sure it does,” Grandpa insisted. “It explains why he left a smart, stable girl like your Grammie for someone as flighty as Annabelle was back then. He was an idiot,” he reiterated, his face showing his obvious boredom at this line of questioning.

“Wow. How long had he and Grammie been engaged? And you still haven’t told me—does Mama know all this?” I couldn’t help but assume she didn’t. I would have known about it, too, if she’d had any clue.

“No, your mama doesn’t know,” he replied, finally acknowledging the question. “Like I said, there wasn’t really any reason to know. It happened, life moved on.”

Obviously, he wasn’t going to give me anything more than that. At least, not now. But I was determined to find out more. And if I had to go straight to the source of the scandal, I would. After all, she seemed more than willing to share.

“Now eat up,” he said, sounding a bit gruff. “I want to mow the lawn before the rain comes.”

I leveled my gaze at him and obediently took another spoonful of my soup, ice cold by now. Those gray-blue eyes of his had turned as cloudy as the sky outside, which now seemed portentous of a looming rainstorm.

What wasn’t he telling me? Maybe there really wasn’t much more to the story than the rashness of youth, but this was a part of my grandmother’s life that I’d never known. She was gone now, and I would never be able to ask her how it had felt. How long had it taken her to give her heart fully, and had she loved my grandfather the same way that she had once loved George—or did he teach her to love more? These were all things that I wanted to know, needed to know, and wished so greatly that I could ask Grammie now. These were the things I’d never known to ask her, and now I would never have the chance.

Chapter Ten

“Charlie, did you know that Grammie was engaged to someone before she met Grandpa?” I asked my sister, hours later as I sat on the bed in my temporary quarters, tracing the outlines of the roses on the cream-colored comforter.

The silence on the other end of the line gave me all the answer I needed.

“Did I lose you?” I said.

“I’m here,” she replied. “I’m just processing, is all. It’s…a surprise.”

“Isn’t it? I almost choked to death on my soup when Grandpa told me.”

“I guess it kind of makes sense, though. I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff that happened when Grammie and Grandpa were young that we’ve never heard about. It’s probably just not something they even think anyone wants to know.” She paused. “You know how that generation can be. I don’t mean to generalize, but a lot of older people just aren’t big on information unless you ask them specific questions. It’s part of their past, and they just don’t think it’s anybody’s business.”

“But we’re not just anybody, we’re family. And this is stuff we should know,” I argued.

“I agree with you, Dellie; that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just trying to come up with a reason that we don’t know this already.”

“I wonder if Mama knows. Grandpa said she doesn’t, but maybe she does and she’s kept it a secret,” I said.

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