“He says he doesn’t want to see her. But we think he’s lying, mostly to himself. He’s stubborn and proud, and he’s carried something for years that he won’t tell us. We think he wants her but can’t forgive himself.”
“So you’re doing this behind his back.”
“Yes. And she’s our niece. We want to know her too.”
“You let the time slip away.”
“I know. We should have stood up to Dad. We didn’t.”
I crossed my arms. “Are you trying to take her?”
“What? No.”
“Rich family. Lawyers. And me with a leaking roof.”
“Nobody’s taking anyone. I swear.”
“Swearing is cheap.”
He took a velvet pouch from his coat. “Tabitha gave me this. It’s Poppy’s.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Then hold it for her. Please.” He walked back to the SUV.
I locked the door and sat at the kitchen table with the pouch in front of me. They had money and lawyers. I had a leaking roof and a weak heart. What if they wanted to take her?
Poppy came downstairs in her socks, hugging her stuffed rabbit. “Who was at the door, Grandma?”
“They had the wrong house.”
She slid a drawing across the table. Four stick figures: me, Poppy, and two stars above us.
“That’s Mommy and Daddy. They’re watching.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Grandma? Sometimes I wish our family was bigger. All my friends have aunts and uncles and cousins. I love you, but sometimes it’s lonely with just the two of us.”
“I know, baby.” I pulled her close. “I wish things were different too.”
“Do you think I’ll ever have a big family?”
I couldn’t answer. I kissed her hair and looked at the pouch. Could I keep her from a grandfather with only weeks left? But what if he broke her heart?
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
“Hi, this is Tabitha. We met at Walmart.”
“What do you want?”
“Please don’t judge us by what Spencer told you. He doesn’t know everything. I’m at St. Luke’s cafeteria. There’s something about Lorna and your son you deserve to hear in person.”
My son.
I left Poppy with my neighbor Dottie and drove to St. Luke’s. Tabitha sat in a corner with a coffee she hadn’t touched.
“You came.”
“Have you been following my granddaughter?”
“For three days. I couldn’t make myself approach you. What was I supposed to say?”
“Then what happened at Walmart?”
“I was about to talk to you in the candy aisle when I saw Dad’s driver at the entrance. Dad had discovered the ring was gone and guessed what I was doing. He sent Otis to bring me home before I reached you. I panicked, hid the ring behind the candy, let Otis take me to the car, then begged him to let me run back for my wallet.”
“And Poppy found it.”
“Yes. The call was Dad, furious. And you were right to wonder about what I told you. Your granddaughter saved something I could never replace. That ring was Mom’s last wish for Lorna’s child. And I had already failed Lorna.”
“How?”
“She wrote me a year before she died. I never answered. Dad threatened to cut off anyone who contacted her: the house, the company, my kids’ tuition.”
“So you chose the money.”
“I chose the easy thing. I regret it every day.”
“Spencer says your father doesn’t want Poppy.”
“That’s what he says. But he’s kept Mom’s ring beside his bed for nine years.”
“What did Lorna do that was so terrible?”
“She married your son. Dad wanted someone wealthy. Gavin fixed school buses. Dad called him a mechanic with no future, right in front of Lorna.”
“Gavin was the best man I ever raised.”
“I know. Lorna said so in her letter.” She hesitated. “There’s something else. When I told Dad she was dead, he just said, ‘I know.’”
“He knew?”
“Apparently.”
“I buried them with eleven people there,” I said. “Not one from her side. Where is he?”
“Room 412.”
PART 3
A thin, gray old man lay in the hospital bed with an oxygen tube under his nose. He looked at me once, and then he knew.
“You’re Gavin’s mother.”
“I am.”
“My children had no right to send you. Get out. You’ll get nothing from me.”
“They didn’t send me, and I don’t want anything from you.” I dropped the velvet pouch on his blanket. “You can choke on that ring, but you’ll never see Poppy. Your daughter and my son died on Route 9, and you didn’t even come to the funeral.”
“I know.”
“You knew they were dead?”
“The state police called the next morning.”
“Why you?”
“I was the last person Lorna called.”
I stopped. “She called you?”
“She left a voicemail that afternoon. ‘Dad, we’re coming through Riverton at nine. I want you to meet your granddaughter.’ I still have it.”
My knees went weak. “That night they left Poppy with me. Lorna said they were going on a date. Ninety miles for a date?”
“It wasn’t a date. She was coming home.”
“Then why didn’t she come in?”
He closed his eyes. “I watched them on the doorbell camera. Lorna rang twice. Gavin held her hand. They waited.”
“And you?”
“I stood inside with my hand on the lock.”
“You didn’t open it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Pride. I’d told her never to come back, and I couldn’t make myself take it back. They were on that road forty minutes later.” His voice cracked. “If I’d opened the door, maybe they’d be alive.”
So that was what he couldn’t forgive himself for.
“That’s why you missed the funeral.”
“I couldn’t face you. Or her grave.”
“And Poppy? Did you know about her?”
His jaw tightened. “I knew where you lived. I drove past your house three times. I saw the roof. A little girl in a coat too small for her. I’d sit in the car and think, what do I say? I’m the man who didn’t open the door?”
“You say, ‘I’m her grandfather.’”
“I couldn’t.”
“Then why send your driver after Tabitha?”
“I knew she’d bring the ring to you. I was afraid you’d look at me like I killed them.”
“You didn’t,” I said. “You just left them standing on your porch. For three years you let Poppy think nobody else wanted her.”
He flinched. “I wanted her. I just didn’t know how.”
“You never tried.”
Silence.
“Spencer says you don’t want to meet her.”
“I told them that.”
“Was it true?”
“No.” His voice broke. “Please. I don’t have much time. Let me see her.”
I wanted to say no. Then I thought of Poppy’s drawing, and her wish for a bigger family.
“I’m not forgiving you.”
“I’m not asking.”
“I’ll bring her tomorrow. For her, not for you.”
The next day, in the elevator, I explained. “Your mama had a daddy. He’s very sick. He wants to meet you.”
“Is he nice?”
“He’s very sad.”
“Is he sad because he lost somebody?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
Tabitha and Spencer waited outside room 412. Poppy stopped at the foot of the bed.
“Hi.”
Harlan couldn’t speak. He cried without a sound. After a while he picked up the velvet pouch.
“This was your great-grandmother’s ring. It’s yours.”
“The treasure,” Poppy whispered.
“Yes.”
“It stays safe until she’s older,” I said.
“Of course.” He handed me an envelope. “I’ve set up a trust fund for Poppy’s education. It’s Lorna’s share of her mother’s money. I should have done it years ago.”
I looked at him. “I still don’t understand you.”
“I know.”
“But I’ll bring Poppy on Sundays. For her sake.”
He nodded, his eyes filling.
That night, Poppy held the ring box up to the lamp. “Grandma, was the treasure from Mama?”
“In a way, sweetheart.”
She smiled. “I think she wanted me to find it.”
We’ve gone back to see Harlan every Sunday since, and her aunt and uncle too. Poppy finally has more family in her life.