“My son,” his voice shook with fervor, “is meant for greatness. He knew—”
“No, I don’t think he did. I don’t think he knew how awful Jill and her family are. If I were to bet, I don’t think you did either.”
“I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I thought I was doing the right thing for my country. Edward used me.” He turned a shade of green, and his hands trembled.
I wanted so badly to ask him what had happened, but I knew John wouldn’t tell me. I wasn’t sure if he was going to tell anyone.
“John, I’m sorry.” I did feel for him. Though not enough to hold back what he really needed to hear. “However, if Brant is willing to let go of his dream, you need to help him see that he can make new ones. And you need to trust that your family will do the same for you.”
A sheeny mist covered his eyes. “Does that include you too, Dani? Will you remain a member of this family?”
That was a good question. The answer was between me and Brock.Chapter Twenty-Seven“Taste this.” Kinsley shoved a spoonful of pumpkin-infused whipped cream into my mouth before I could even process what she was doing.
How could I complain, though? My taste buds were in heaven. “Oh. Wow. I could just eat that for dinner.” At Grandma and Grandpa’s we ate dessert first for Thanksgiving. It had been a tradition for years. Ariana’s doing, of course. She was the queen of family traditions, especially holiday ones. She lived for this time of year. I couldn’t wait to hear the blessing song she had come up with. She always wrote a new one each Thanksgiving.
“I hope Tristan likes it,” Kinsley whispered.
I peeked out into the dining area where an additional table was being set up. Ariana’s dad, stepmother, and two brothers were joining us this year. The first holiday with the Stantons. It was kind of a big deal. Tristan was helping Grandpa set up the extra table. Tristan was good at making small talk, and he was telling Grandpa all about his trek to Nepal. Grandpa was eating it up. He was a huge outdoorsman and valued people who loved nature as much as he did.
“I think he’s going to love it.”
Kinsley gave me a relieved smile.
I was happy to see her so happy. She had that new-love glow.
Grandma walked into the kitchen carrying an armful of sunflowers. “Do you think I should do one big centerpiece or a few smaller arrangements?” She laid the flowers on the tiny kitchen table that was pushed off into the corner of the small but functional kitchen. Grandma and Grandpa’s A-frame house was all about using every space. It fit their mantra of waste not, want not.
I had never seen Grandma behave so nervously. Something about Ariana’s father always seemed to make her nervous, like she had to prove she had been a good grandmother to Ariana. I knew she harbored a lot of guilt for not taking Ariana away from her daughter, Joanie. Even though Ariana never once blamed our grandparents.
“I think a few smaller ones,” Kinsley gave her professional opinion. She was much better at that stuff than me.
I nodded for the heck of it before going back to chopping pears for the salad, trying not to feel sorry for myself. I was feeling quite alone. Normally, I loved Thanksgiving. It always meant time with Brock, as he and Brant had always crashed our celebration, even choosing to spend it with us over their own family. I always said it was because we ate pie first, though Ariana was sure it was because of me. Maybe she had been right. I’d always looked forward to the two hours alone I got to spend with Brock when we played Ariana’s ridiculous game of car hide-and-go-seek that we all secretly loved, even if we teased her about it.
This year was different. Brock was still in rehab. Brant was with the Copelands, God bless his soul. And Sheridan had gone home to John two days ago. Apparently John had promised to do the right thing, whatever that meant. That left me feeling in the dark and vulnerable, like all my life secrets could be exposed at any moment.
I glanced at Kinsley. She was humming to herself, bursting with hope. At least she was happy and moving on from Brant. So many times, I’d thought I should tell her what had happened between Brant and me, but Brock thought it would be unnecessarily cruel. Why hurt her when I didn’t have to? To assuage my conscience? I would rather live with the guilt than injure her tender heart. Though what if word got out? Brock assured me it wouldn’t. I wasn’t so sure.
For now, I smiled at my sister as she was lost in her joyful thoughts.