Chapter Twenty
PARKER PADDED INTO the living room late in the afternoon, looking sleepy and sad with her tousled hair and puffy eyes, but when she saw Grayson, her lips curved into a grateful smile. Christmas was right behind her. The lovable pup had remained by her side since the minute she’d climbed into bed when they’d arrived home after visiting Abe. Grayson had lain with them until Parker had fallen asleep. Too restless to lie still, he’d come into the living room and called to check on Abe—and Helga. Over the last few days of calling to check on Abe, he’d learned that Helga had been in love with Abe for years, and he worried about her. He’d also phoned Sky, since she and Parker had become so close, and she must have filled everyone else in, because he’d heard from his father, Hunter, and Pete. Pete said Jenna and Sky were reaching out to the other girls.
Grayson held his cell phone to his ear, listening to Matt, who had called a few minutes ago, and wrapped his arm around Parker. He whispered, “Hey, sweetheart.” Into the phone he said, “Hey, Matt. I’ve got to go. Parker just got up. I appreciate the call.”
“I’m here if you need me,” Matt said. “Give Parker my condolences. Love you.”
“Will do. Love you, too.”
He set his phone on the counter beside the wooden box Helga had given them when they were leaving. She’d told Parker it contained Abe’s most treasured things, and he wanted her to have them. Parker hadn’t been up to looking inside it, but there was plenty of time for that.
“Matt sends his condolences.”
“You told him?”
“I told Sky, and I guess Sky told everyone. I’m sorry, she’s just—” He realized what Sky was doing and knew it would make her feel better. “She’s treating you like family. She worries, so she thinks everyone should.”
She tipped her chin up. “That’s nice.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty thoughtful.”
Christmas pushed between them, and Grayson petted him.
“Are you hungry?” Grayson asked, but Parker was moving from his arms, having spied the basket of goodies he’d prepared a few days earlier.
She sat on the couch rifling through the basket, fighting for space as Christmas nosed in beside her. “Peanut and pretzel M&M’s? Snickers? Twizzlers? Laffy Taffy?” Her mouth and eyes widened when she got to the bottom and found the movies. “Psycho, The Blair Witch Project, The Cabin in the Woods, The Ring. Grayson…”
“I wasn’t sure what flavor of horror you liked, but these seemed like your go-to remedies for sadness.”
She set the basket aside and went to him. “They were.”
“I didn’t get tequila.”
“I don’t need tequila, and honestly, I don’t need these things, either. I need you, Grayson. You’re my go-to remedy now.”
He hated to tell her the news about Abe, but Matt had reminded him that one of the hardest things for him to deal with when their mother passed was that he hadn’t received the message until two hours after the rest of the family knew. He’d been teaching a class, and his cell phone had been turned off. With that in mind, he sat down on the couch and brought Parker down beside him, holding her hands in his.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” she said softly.
“He is, baby. I’m sorry. Helga said he fell asleep right after we left, and he went peacefully. In his sleep.”
She blinked away fresh tears and snuggled into his side. “It’s good that he went in his sleep. Will they let us know about his funeral? I’d like to go.”
“There won’t be a funeral. Abe didn’t want one.”
“I guess that makes sense. He wasn’t really the kind of guy who would want to be the center of attention.”
“Helga said you were the only person who visited him.”
“The only person? That’s so sad, and it’s probably why he left me whatever’s in that box.”
“Apparently he sold their family business years ago, and once the transition was complete, she said he preferred a solitary life.”
“At least he had Helga.” She eyed the box and sighed. “I’m going to wait to look at what he left me.”
“Wait as long as you’d like. No rush.”
He gazed into her eyes and was surprised to see light beyond the shadows of sadness. “You’ve had a rough few weeks.”
“It’s funny how the bad comes with the good. Losing Bert was awful. Losing Abe is sad but not as hard as losing Bert. I had no warning with Bert, but I knew from the first day I met Abe that he wasn’t doing well. And while all that sad stuff was happening, you and I had all these wonderful moments. So I’m in this weird place where I feel okay instead of devastated. Does that make me a bad person?”
He gathered her against him. “No, baby. It makes you someone who knows she’s loved. You felt alone when you lost Bert, but now you have me and our friends. You have family.”
CONVINCING GRAYSON TO go to work Thursday morning was like pulling teeth. But as much as Parker wanted to spend time with him, which had become her favorite thing to do, she needed him to know she was okay. And the only way to do that was to push him out the door.
She’d taken a walk with Christmas and returned the calls and emails she’d missed. Phillipa had sent her two film pitches to consider. A few weeks ago she would have been chomping at the bit to get the most challenging roles. But her life had changed so much, the idea of filming ten to fifteen hours a day and being away from Grayson and Christmas for weeks on end didn’t sound the least bit appealing. She was excited about the romantic comedy script she’d read, though, and she hoped to secure the lead role. But that was only one movie.
She no longer needed to fill empty hours with work to avoid a life she wasn’t living. She liked the life she and Grayson were building together. She hadn’t even realized that’s what they were doing, building a life together, but that was exactly what had happened. And the life they were building was becoming their real life.
In the afternoon Parker armed herself with a bag of pretzel M&M’s and took Abe’s box down to the dock. She was doing well, but she wasn’t a fool. There were going to be tears, and tears required hugs or chocolate. Since she’d sent Grayson away, what other choice did she have?
Christmas lay on the dock beside her, his tail slapping the wood in a pattern that seemed to say, Hurry up! Hurry up!
“You can go chase birds. I don’t need a babysitter.” She kissed his head. “Really, I’m good now.” Good. I’m so much better than good. I’m happy.
Christmas woofed and bounded back toward the beach, leaving Parker alone with the box Abe had given her. She was happy that Abe had thought of her and sad that he’d had nobody else. Running her finger over the rough wooden edges of the box, she thought about Bert and the day she’d opened his safe-deposit box. She’d cried the whole way home from the bank. Now, thinking of what Helga had said when she’d given it to them, she wondered how a man’s most treasured possessions could possibly fit in a box. Then she thought about the things she cared about, and she had the answer, and her heart ached anew. Her most treasured things weren’t possessions at all. They were a man, a dog, a few close friends, cherished memories of Bert, and Grayson’s emails and all the memories they’d created together recently. Abe didn’t have anyone.
Drawing in a stabilizing breath, she opened the lid and saw the pictures she’d given Abe looking back at her. Her heart squeezed with the memory of his knobby fingers holding the picture of him and Bert. She lifted them from the box, enjoying the memories of both men they roused.
Setting those pictures aside, she withdrew an aged and worn envelope. The handwriting and date told her it was the first letter Bert had sent to Abe. The one he’d said he read. With shaky fingers she opened the letter, missing Bert anew at the sight of his familiar script. She smiled at the succinct note and wondered if he’d kept it short because confidence and control were so important to his brother.
Abe, you stubborn son of a gun. Call me. Bert.
Abe was right. He had wanted to fight it out.
Quiet laughter slipped out, and she turned damp eyes up toward the sky.
“You two. I love you guys.”
Christmas barked, and birds scattered. Parker watched them fly toward the clouds, thinking about the three people she’d lost. She’d been an infant when she’d lost her mother. She didn’t have any memories of her, but she’d always felt she was missing a piece of herself. But she’d moved on. Bert had taken a bigger chunk of her heart, and Abe had taken another piece. She never knew a heart could take so much loss and still function, but Grayson had shown her that not only could her heart still function, but it could be strong and happy and feel full again.
Lifting out the stack of Bert’s letters, she fingered the neatly spliced edges, imagining Helga’s capable hands sliding a letter opener along the creases. Parker chose to believe Helga had read each of the letters to Abe. Pleased with that thought, she put them aside. Whatever the letters contained was between Abe and Bert. It was enough for her to know the letters had been among Abe’s most treasured possessions.
She withdrew a book wrapped in red cloth from the box and unwrapped it. Turning the pink journal over in her hands, she saw the word Diary written across the front. The pages were frayed, as if they’d been read many times. A small golden lock hung crooked from the hinges, the tiny clasp broken. Like the man who left it to me.
She opened the cover, her pulse quickening at the scrawl of youth in the center of the page. Miriam Stein. Her heart stumbled as Abe’s voice whispered to her, My girl Miriam had guts. With shaky hands, she flipped the page of his daughter’s diary and read the date written in the top left, December 3, 1980.
It’s Chanukah. All I wanted was a guitar. I got this stupid diary and a bunch of ugly jewelry and fancy clothes…