Chapter 44
Grant
Grant was trying his best to be a gracious host. When the stream of arriving guests had slowed to a trickle then stopped, he grabbed a drink and joined his father in mingling with the well-wishers.
He talked with several senators, the governors of Connecticut and New York, and even the former vice president.
“Elections are next year,” his father told him under his breath. “They are here for a handout.”
“I see,” Grant said. He wanted to eat some of the amazing food that was going around. The tables were loaded with thousands of dollars of food that looked as if it had hardly been touched. Was everyone drinking and not eating? Grant didn’t think he would ever understand his father’s world.
Your world now, he thought. Especially since Kate was in it. Where is Kate? he wondered. He looked around. It was getting dark, and he was a little worried when he couldn’t find her. She must be around here somewhere, he tried to reassure himself. What if Luigi was creeping in the woods? He could snatch her.
He whirled around when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Stefan looked at him askance.
“There are two people here who wish to speak to you,” Stefan said, “if you have a moment.”
Rattled, Grant mumbled, “Sure,” and followed Stefan into the house. They went down a wide hallway to one of the smaller sitting rooms. Two older people who were not well dressed were sitting on the couch, noisily eating the food Stefan had brought them. Grant’s stomach churned when he saw who it was.
“Stefan,” he hissed, grabbing the butler by the shirt collar, “why did you let them in here? They are going to make a scene.”
“Grant!” his adoptive mother exclaimed when she saw him.
“You two are not welcome here!” he snarled at them.
Before they had a chance to answer, Walter walked into the room, saying, “You are Grant’s adoptive parents, I presume. It’s so lovely to meet you. You did an excellent job raising Grant. He’s a fine man.”
His adoptive mother beamed, and Grant saw red. They had been horrible parents.
“Don’t you dare! It’s your fault I was trapped with them for eighteen years!” he screamed at his father.
He pulled his gun out from the holster at the small of his back and pointed it at his father. Walter looked shocked and put his hands up.
“Grant, what on earth!” his adoptive father yelled.
Grant swung the pistol in their direction. Breathing hard, he growled at them, “Screw you. You have no right to be here. You both had addiction problems. My life was horrible. You belittled me, you lied to me, and you were abusive and neglectful. You’re racist. You stole from me. The worst thing you did, though, was what you said about Brendan. It was unforgivable.”
“Grant, put the gun away, please,” Walter said slowly. Grant ignored him. He saw the fear on his adoptive parents’ faces.
He laughed and said in a mocking tone, “It’s not fun when someone forces you to be afraid, is it?”
He put the gun away, and his adoptive parents slowly lowered their hands.
“Grant, we—”
“Shut up!” Grant roared. “Now, you listen. I’m actually around people who care about me and who are trying to make me a better man. You have no business here. Leave.”
“I didn’t steal from you!” his adoptive father cried out. “I just needed to pay off a debt. I’m going to pay you back. I promise.”
“We’re your real parents. We raised you,” his adoptive mother protested.
“Get out!” Grant screamed. “Don’t ever let me see you again. I want them gone. Do you understand?” he spat at Stefan as he stalked out of the room.
Walter ran after him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and slammed him into an alcove. The statue that was displayed there toppled over and smashed on the floor.
“What is wrong with you?” Walter growled. “You could have killed someone.”
“They deserve it.” Grant pushed Walter away and started pacing. His eyes darted around erratically then settled on his father’s face. Wetting his lips, Grant told him, “I got my best friend killed. We were on patrol, then suddenly, we were attacked. Brendan got hit in a bad spot. Marines are covered from head to toe in body armor, but the insurgents made a lucky head shot somehow. I just… I tried to save him… I should have… it should have been me. When they gave me the Medal of Honor for my actions in that ambush a few months later, I was hoping to die. I wasn’t trying to be a hero.” Grant looked at his father helplessly, trying to tamp down all the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.
“I’m sorry,” Walter said, patting him gently on the back.
“The worst of it is, when I went back to see my adoptive parents, you know what they said? They said, ‘Don’t worry about that n-word. He’s better off dead.’ I just lost it. I destroyed their house, smashed their cars.”
Walter handed him a handkerchief.
“I swear I’ll die before I ever see them again.”
“Grant, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
His father looked crestfallen, but Grant didn’t care. He hurried away from his father and locked himself in a bathroom. He splashed some water on his face and forced himself to return to the party. He still didn’t feel that well, so he grabbed a drink from the waiter when he got back outside and downed it, put the empty glass on the tray, and grabbed another one.
The anger and helplessness he always felt around his adoptive parents burned in his gut. He saw Kate floating effortlessly through the guests. Being near her was the only thing that grounded him. He wanted to wrap himself around her and forget all his problems. He squared his shoulders. He had a job, he was out of the military, and he had just banished his adoptive parents for good. All he needed was Kate.
While he waited for the party to end so he could finish his mission with Kate, Grant schmoozed with guests and had his picture taken. He also drank to try to numb his pain and anger. The night became a blur, and the only thought he could hold onto was Kate. He had to win Kate.
When the garden party finally came to a close, Kate came over to him with some snacks. Grant set the plate down and drew her to a small green alcove by a fountain with a bench that was the perfect size for two.
“That went well,” he said, trying not to sound drunk.
“Yes, it did,” Kate replied.
“I need to ask you something,” he slurred, looking deep in her eyes and taking her hands. “Kate, I want you to be my girlfriend. I love you. I think we belong together.”
She started crying.
“I can’t, Grant. You don’t understand. I can’t be with you.”
“Why?” He tried to focus on her face.
“I did something terrible.” She sniffed.
“It can’t be that bad,” he said, reaching for her.
“I can’t.”
He had grabbed her too hard, he realized vaguely as she let out a loud yelp.
Grant shook her roughly and said, “I love you.”
He crushed her to his chest, and he felt her struggling. He vaguely remembered being that close to another person before, but that was Brendan, and he had died. Grant pushed Kate up against the wall, saying, “Kate, I need you.” He started pawing at her clothes. “You have to be my girlfriend.”
“No, I don’t,” she said and slapped him.
He slumped over on the bench. He had drunk way too much. He watched, his vision spinning, as she straightened her clothes and put her shoes back on.
“You are disgusting, Grant Holbrook,” she said.
Grant watched in horror as she ran off, taking all of his hopes and dreams for their future with her.