Part 39 (1/2)

She hesitated, then walked over to the love seat and sat down. I rolled my chair closer to her.

”I've been doing a lot of thinking this morning,” I said. ”I love you very much.You know I don't want you to go to Colorado, but if you want to go, I won't stand in your way.” The words nearly choked me, but I got them out.

Shannon looked puzzled for a moment, as though she wondered if she'd stumbled into the right house.

”Are you kidding?” she asked.

I shook my head. ”I won't lie to you, Shannon. I'm sick about you leaving. I want to lock you in your room and keep you here. I'll be so worried about you, because you are the most important thing in the world to me.” My voice broke ever so slightly. I doubted she'd even noticed. ”But you can go if that's what you want,” I said. ”Just remember that you're always-always-welcome to come home, with no recriminations. Okay?”

She'd broken into a slow smile as I spoke. Now she stood up, leaning over to kiss my cheek. ”Thanks, Mom,” she said. ”That is totally cool.”

She left the room, heading up the stairs again, and I could hear the little beeps as she dialed her cell phone, calling Tanner to tell him the good news.

EPILOGUE.

Lucy ”She's never going to fall,” Ethan said, glancing over his shoulder at Abby, who was balanced on one ski behind the boat. She looked relaxed, almost bored, as she cut across the water, and Ethan might have sounded sounded like he was griping, but he was smiling with pride. He'd told me that he'd taught his daughter to ski when she was ten. Now, at twenty-seven, skiing was as easy to her as walking. like he was griping, but he was smiling with pride. He'd told me that he'd taught his daughter to ski when she was ten. Now, at twenty-seven, skiing was as easy to her as walking.

I was holding Abby's daughter, eighteen-month-old Clare, on my lap. ”See Mommy?” I leaned down to say in her ear.

”Mommy ski!” Clare said, pointing at her mother.

”Yes, she sure is,” I said.

”We'll get her down.” Ethan's tone was malevolent, and he turned the steering wheel so that Abby would have to cross the wake of a much larger boat. I could hear her laughter over the sound of the motor as she realized what her father was doing.

”Your grandpop's a meanie,” I said to Clare.

”Pop Pop's a meanie!” Clare said.

Ethan was anything but mean. He'd been my brother-in-law since January when he and Julie got married, and he was a doll. I was staying with the two of them for a few weeks this summer, and he and Abby and I had gone skiing nearly every day since my arrival.

As for me me and men, though, I thought I was finished with them. My life was too full to add a man to the mix. Between my students, the ZydaChicks, my women's support group and my ever-expanding family, I really had no room for anything or anyone else. and men, though, I thought I was finished with them. My life was too full to add a man to the mix. Between my students, the ZydaChicks, my women's support group and my ever-expanding family, I really had no room for anything or anyone else.

Abby rode the wake of the larger boat like a champion mogul skier, elegantly rising and falling over the rolling water. But then she raised her hand and waved at us, letting us know that she was willing to give Ethan or me a turn.

Ethan slowed the boat and Abby dropped smoothly into the water as we circled around to pick her up. She climbed the ladder into the boat, her body long limbed and tan, and she gently shook her short wet hair in front of Clare's face, tickling the little girl's nose and making her giggle.

”You go, Luce,” Ethan said to me.

I handed Clare to her mother, climbed over the side of the boat and jumped into the water. Abby tossed the skis down to me and, as usual, I struggled to put them on. I was pitiful at every aspect of skiing: putting on the skis, getting back into the boat, and most significantly, staying up for longer than a few seconds. All the stops and starts probably drove Ethan and Abby crazy, but they never complained and I loved every minute of the adventure-especially knowing that I was in water that was way over my head, and I was one-hundred-percent certain that I was not going to drown.

Maria Something I figured out long ago was that life rarely turns out the way you expect it to. How could I have predicted that, at eighty-two years of age, I would find myself planting geraniums in the Chapmans' window boxes? For that matter, how could I have predicted that my daughter, Julie, would one day be a Chapman?

By the time Julie and Ethan were married, I think we'd all gotten over the astonis.h.i.+ng fact that we were embracing the son of Isabel's killer, and we welcomed him into the family. No one had suffered more than Ethan during the past couple of years. He'd lost his entire nuclear family and learned a terrible truth about the father he'd idolized. I came to admire his life-embracing att.i.tude and his resiliency. He was one of us-a survivor.

Julie and Ethan divided their time between Julie's house in Westfield and this old bungalow in Bay Head Sh.o.r.es. I hadn't wanted to come here at first. The thought turned my stomach, but I didn't keep my discomfort to myself. I'd discovered that you can still learn things when you're an old lady. Maybe you couldn't change the core of your personality-that ingrained ident.i.ty deep inside you-but you could could change how you dealt with the world. The way I'd changed was that I didn't keep things to myself anymore. If I had a gripe or a sorrow or a joy, I would call one of my girls and share it with her. That's why, when Julie first suggested I spend time with them at Ethan's house, I told her how hard that would be for me. Julie listened to everything I had to say on the subject and then said they would love to have me, but she understood my concerns and the decision was ultimately mine to make. Given the choice between staying home in Westfield while my family built new summertime traditions without me, or facing my fears and becoming a contributing part of their future, I chose the latter. It hadn't been as hard as I'd expected. The world looked different from Ethan's backyard than it did from ours. I spent as much time with them as I could-when I could get away from Micky D's, of course. change how you dealt with the world. The way I'd changed was that I didn't keep things to myself anymore. If I had a gripe or a sorrow or a joy, I would call one of my girls and share it with her. That's why, when Julie first suggested I spend time with them at Ethan's house, I told her how hard that would be for me. Julie listened to everything I had to say on the subject and then said they would love to have me, but she understood my concerns and the decision was ultimately mine to make. Given the choice between staying home in Westfield while my family built new summertime traditions without me, or facing my fears and becoming a contributing part of their future, I chose the latter. It hadn't been as hard as I'd expected. The world looked different from Ethan's backyard than it did from ours. I spent as much time with them as I could-when I could get away from Micky D's, of course.

Julie It was so peaceful on the sunporch. I had my computer on my lap and a cup of coffee on the table next to me. I could hear the snipping of the pruning shears as my mother worked on the window boxes and planters in the front yard. I was writing what I expected to be the last book in the Granny Fran series. Fran Gallagher was eighty-four now, and it was time for her to retire. I planned to leave the impression that she'd be called in occasionally to help her younger, greener colleagues solve their crimes, but really, it was time for her to move to Florida, find a nice old fellow to pal around with and rest on her laurels.

My fans wouldn't be happy with me for ending my series, but I was ready to move on to something new and different. I longed to write a story with a little more meat on its bones. I wanted to delve into life's experiences, both the good and the bad. I wanted to write books filled with heartache and love, evil and goodness, death and rebirth-all those highs and lows that made up reality. Some of my readers would follow me along that path; others would mourn the loss of the lighthearted escape reading I'd given them for so many years. But I would be writing what felt right for me now, and I couldn't wait to get started.

I looked up from my work as I pondered the scene in which Fran realizes she is tired of solving other people's mysteries. The ca.n.a.l was calm, the tide slack as a sailboat made its quiet way toward the river. Across the water from where I sat, a handful of African-American men were fis.h.i.+ng. Were any of them related to the Lewises? I would never know.

I went to see Wanda Lewis in the fall. She was Wanda Jackson now, and she had four sons and countless grandchildren, but no amount of family could make up for the loss of her brother. She had not welcomed me, and I didn't stay long. I didn't blame her for the chilly reception, but one thing I'd come to understand was that I couldn't undo the past. I could only try to learn from it.

The sound of a motor disturbed the quiet morning, and I looked up to see Ethan steering his boat toward the dock from the direction of the bay. Ethan, Lucy, Abby and baby Clare went out nearly every morning while I wrote. Once they came inside, I would put my work away. I was trying to learn to balance my time between work and play. I was not very good at it yet, but I was improving.

Everyone got out of the boat, but only Ethan walked toward the house. Abby and Lucy took Clare into the open side of the dock, holding her hands as they walked with her down the slope into the water that had once held such fear for my younger sister.

Ethan opened the door to the porch and came inside, taking off his sungla.s.ses.

”How's Granny Fran doing?” he asked. His hair and his bathing suit were wet. I knew he'd had fun this morning.

”She's on her last legs,” I told him.

He bent over to kiss me and I could smell the salt.w.a.ter on his skin. ”And how's Granny Julie?” he asked.

As if on cue, Kira Sellers Stroh, who'd been sleeping peacefully in her Portacrib on the other side of the porch, began to whimper.

”Granny Julie couldn't be any happier,” I said.

This year had certainly been full of surprises. Shannon did did go to Colorado with Tanner, but she was there less than twenty-four hours when she called to tell me she was coming home. go to Colorado with Tanner, but she was there less than twenty-four hours when she called to tell me she was coming home.

”We got to his house and all his friends were there waiting to meet me,” she said, when I picked her up at the airport. ”They were really nice, Mom, but the youngest one was twenty-five, twenty-five, and I thought, 'What am I doing here? What am I doing with this old guy I barely know?'” and I thought, 'What am I doing here? What am I doing with this old guy I barely know?'”

Ethan walked over to the Portacrib and lifted Kira into his arms. He kissed her temple and rocked her a little, cooing to her.