“You said!” She stompedher foot, and just as I was about to reprimand her for talking back, Tesstouched my shoulder.
“It’s fine. You canread to them. I just …” She diverted her gaze and shrugged. “I just needed tobe here.”
I pinned her with aworriedglare, butrelented and turned back to my daughters.“Okay. We’ll readonechapter. Butfirst, give me a few minutes with Tess,” I said, and satisfied, the three ofthem went to their room. I watched them go, making sure they were inside anddistracted, and when I looked back to Tess, her eyes had flooded. As thoughshe’d been waiting for us to be alone before she let go.
“Grandma?” I asked, andshe hesitated before nodding. One hand covered her knee and I lifted the otherto brush her unkempt hair from her cheek. “Tess, I’m so sorry.”
She nodded. “She just …went to sleep this morning and didn’t wake up.” She spoke in whispers as shegrasped the wrist at her face and pressed my palm to her skin. A tear slippedfrom her eye and dragged along her cheek, disappearing underneath my hand. “Ihad yelled at her, Jon. We had a fight and I walked away, and then she died.What if … what if she …”
I knew this pain. Iknew that guilt. “Tess, stop.”
The tears ran seamlesslyover her cheeks now. Spilling and dripping from her chin. “I shouldn’t havestressed her out. I shouldn’t have made her upset. I should’ve been morepatient.”
“Tess, she was old,” Ireasoned gently. “You had absolutely nothing to do with that.”
“But I was supposed tohelp,” she cried, “and I couldn’t takeit. I ran away for hours every single day instead ofhelping herandlistening toher. I dismissed her because it was easier than being there.”
“You’re human.”
“I’m an asshole.”
I felt personallywounded by the insult and shook my head. “Tess, you are so far from being anasshole.”
Then, much to mysurprise, she broke into a pained smile and a watery laugh. I cocked my head,narrowed my eyes, and asked, “Why are you laughing?”
Her laughter coalescedwith her tears and she shook her head, pressing her hands to my cheeks. “Youcursed. You n-never curse.”
I couldn’t help it. Ilaughed, too. “When are yougonnastop changing mylife?”
“When are yougonnastop being amazing?” she countered, dipping her headto touch her forehead to mine.
“Amazing?” I scoffed. “Not sure that’s the word I’d use, but …” Ibrushed a kiss gently to her lips. “I guess I’ll take it.”
I kissed her again, forcomfort and assurance, and she sobbed, muffled by my mouth. I felt her tears,wetting her cheeks and my hands, and I hoped this was enough. I hopedIwas enough.
“I’m so sad,” shewhispered.
“I know.”
“I hate this.” Shehiccupped. “I hate how much it hurts.”
“I know,” I repeated,smoothing the hair away from her sodden face. Dark circles surrounded her puffyeyes, and I brushed the tears away with my thumbs. “Why don’t you go lay down?I’ll be there in a little bit, after I read to the girls.”
Her fingers graspedagainst my face, reluctant to let go, but she nodded and dropped her hands.“You’re sure it’s okay if I …” I followed her gaze to my bedroomdoor, andnodded.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Ipressed my lips to hers again, and then to her cheek. “I’ll just be a littlewhile.”
***
“Daddy, why is Tess sad?” Lilly asked,scooching underneath the covers.
I sighed ruefully,tucking the blanket around her shoulders. “Because her grandma died, baby.”
Her eyes met mine withmournful recognition. “Like Mommy.”
I gave her a sombernod. “Yes. Like Mommy.”
“That means Tess’sgrandma is in Heaven,” Shelly chimed in, her little voice tight and strainedwith emotion she didn’t quite understand, for a mother she never really knew.
