Make a Wish (Spark House #3)(100)
“You saw Harley as a threat to your role.”
She folds her tissue into a square. “Peyton loves her so much. I felt like I’d been replaced. And I realize that’s not her fault, but it’s how I felt.”
Karen has spent more than half a decade in the role of pseudo-parent, and I took it all away from her. I reach across the table and give her hand a squeeze. “Karen, I can understand better why this has been so difficult for you, but you’re Peyton’s grandmother. I don’t know that it was fair to any of us, and especially not you, to let you take on a parent role in her life.”
Karen nods, her smile sad. “At the time it seemed like what I needed, and you needed support. But now, I realize I haven’t properly dealt with Marcie’s death. So instead of handling it, I tried to mask the loss by taking care of Peyton.”
“I get that it’s been hard, Karen, but I deserve a partner. I don’t want to go through life alone.”
“I know, and I agree. And I’m aware I’ve made this harder on all of us with the way I’ve managed things, especially where Harley is concerned,” she admits.
“Harley is an amazing woman, and I think if you’d give her half a chance, you might find you really like her. She’s kind and caring and compassionate.”
“I know she’s all those things. It felt like I was betraying Marcie’s memory if I let someone else who isn’t my daughter into my life. I keep going over that day in my head. She’d called the night before and asked me to come down, and I said I couldn’t be there until the weekend.” She shakes her head. “If I’d canceled my lunch plans, I might have been there…” She covers her mouth with her hand and turns her head to the side.
This isn’t something I’ve heard before. And I see with fresh eyes and perspective how all of us have our baggage to contend with when it comes to that loss. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that. I tell myself that all the time. It was no one’s fault. Nothing we could have done would have saved her, but sometimes I wish I’d had those hours with her. Just one more day with my daughter.” She puts her head in her hands and her shoulders shake.
I push my chair back and walk around the table so I can take the seat next to her. I put an arm around her. “I’ve spent a lot of years wondering what I could have done differently and wishing I could change the past. But we can’t, Karen. We can only move forward. She wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up about this. Not after ten years. And she wouldn’t want me to be alone, and she would want Peyton to be loved and to have someone who can be the mother Marcie didn’t get to be.”
Karen brushes away her tears. “You’re right. You’re so right. Marcie would want you to be happy, and she wouldn’t want you to be alone, or for Peyton to never know what it’s like to have a mom.”
“I love Harley, and I want to see if she and I can build a future together. I would love for you to be part of that, but I need you to be on my side here, not fighting against us.”
“Do you think she can forgive me for how difficult I’ve been?”
“If there was ever a person capable of forgiveness, it’s definitely Harley. She has a huge heart. All you need to do is give her a reason to let you into hers.”
And I realize if I want this to truly work out, I need to take my own advice.
So I get to work on a project that will show Harley how much I care about her.
Twenty-Eight
ANOTHER CHANCE
HARLEY
I’m standing in my kitchen, take-out cup of coffee in hand, ready to leave for Spark House. Contractors are coming in to discuss converting the garden shed into Sparkle House today. We’re hoping to use the existing structure because it will mean less hoops to jump through. Every time I think about it, I get excited, and then a pang of sadness hits, because I want to share this elation with Gavin, and I don’t know if that will ever happen. I have all these ideas that I want to run by him, including a plan for a play structure, and his input would be invaluable.
Before I can gather my purse, there’s a knock on my door. Usually this means that my elderly neighbor has run out of cream for her coffee. It happens once a month or so, and she always makes oatmeal raisin cookies as a thank-you. I leave my coffee on the counter and cross the kitchen, heading down the hall to the front foyer.
But when I open the door, I’m surprised to find not Ms. Wheatly, but Gavin. He’s dressed for work in a button-down, black pants, and a tie with a cartoon cinnamon roll pattern on it. Peyton and I were out shopping a while back, and I decided we had to get it for him. I never actually expected him to wear it to anything outside of formal family functions, or maybe to a school production, but it probably makes it into his wardrobe rotation once a week. He’s also holding a roll of paper in his hand that looks like it could be a blueprint.
“Hey.” I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I grip the doorknob like I’m hanging off the edge of a cliff and it’s my lifeline.
Gavin gives me a sheepish grin. “Hi. Sorry I’m showing up with no warning, but I wanted to catch you before you left for work. I hoped we could talk, and I didn’t want to do it over the phone.”
“I guess it depends on what we’re talking about.” I might have time for a conversation, but I don’t know if I have time to redo my makeup if the content is going to make it run off my face.