One Lavender Ribbon (4 page)

Will ran up the stairs and got back on his rowing machine, his mind on the woman who’d just left. He remembered seeing her at the bank in all her tanned glory, long dark hair floating down her shoulders and back. Up close, she was even more stunning, with giant coffee-colored eyes. He blew through his workout, thinking about those eyes and wondering what made them so sad. Like she carried the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders, and the load was getting heavy.

He shouldn’t have let her leave his house so quickly. She’d pretty much thrown him the proverbial bone
. I’m new in town. Don’t really know anyone.
Man, he was dense when it came to women. It hadn’t even occurred to him that that might have been an invitation, until she was gone.

Will didn’t hear Pops, so he peeked out his upstairs bedroom window, knowing what he’d find. The backyard was too slick for Pops to walk down to the boat, but he had a feeling that’s exactly what Pops was doing. Before he could get the window open and call for him, he heard the boat motor come to life. Will shook his head and returned to the rowing machine. An extra-long workout couldn’t hurt. After all, it was Saturday.

Thirty minutes later he heard the boat return. He moved to the window and peeled back the shade. The bright Florida sunshine streamed in as his eyes drifted to the canal that began where his backyard ended. A perfect morning. The kind Pops couldn’t resist.

Using a hand towel, he dabbed at the sweat he’d accumulated and rubbed menthol cream into his knees.
I shouldn’t have to do this yet. I’m only thirty
.

Below, his grandfather tied up the boat at the pier’s edge.

Strips of liquefied gold bobbed across the beckoning cobalt water. The thirty-two-foot cuddy cabin bounced in the gentle movement as its own wake caught up to the fiberglass hull and lapped at its sides.

Will shook his head at his grandfather’s antics—the way Pops hurried toward the house, all the while glancing around like a teenager creeping in from a forbidden date. Pops fumbled to get the boat key in his pocket, but stopped halfway across the lawn. His gaze traveled the distance from the yard to the second story. The older man forced a smile to hide the guilt.

Will crossed his arms accusingly.

William Senior shrugged and headed to the back door. Although he pushed a hand against his knee, Pops’s leg remained stiff with each step. Will knew he’d grown so accustomed to the old injury, the gentle climb through grass and sand was nothing more than a Sunday stroll.

But not for Will. Every time his grandfather negotiated a climb, it reminded him of all the pain the old man had lived through. Pain that the pretty brunette who’d knocked on his door wanted to bring to the forefront of Pops’s mind.

If it were up to Will, his grandfather would only trek on safe, level concrete. But Pops was a stubborn man. Kind, but stubborn. He didn’t seem to realize that an eighty-year-old body couldn’t do everything it once had. And early morning boat trips
alone
topped the list.

Will showered and headed down to the kitchen.

“Morning,” Pops said as Will descended the stairs. The morning paper lay at Will’s spot.

“Morning, Pops.” Will perused the headlines while his grandfather placed a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on the table, next to the paper.

Obviously anxious to avoid the conversation sure to ensue, Pops tapped his finger on the newsprint. “There’s a lot going on in town this weekend.” He rolled up the sleeves of his gray flannel shirt, arthritic fingers fumbling to make the folds smooth. He vanished from the doorway and reappeared with a stepladder.

“Yeah?” Will shook pepper over the eggs and took a bite. “Like what?” But he knew where this conversation was headed. He watched Pops maneuver the ladder under the kitchen light.

“Out at the Animal Sanctuary, they’re having a hike.”

Will grunted.

“You might like it. You used to hike all the time.”

That was before grandma died and I brought you here,
Will thought. “Nah, I’m not really in the mood for a hike today.”

“It’s to raise money for the new shelters.” Pops produced a lightbulb from the cupboard.

“It’s hot.” Will nodded toward the wall thermometer in the kitchen window. “But we can send them a donation to help out, if you’d like.” When silence followed, he glanced up at Pops. “Or were you thinking of adopting a pet?”

Pops seemed to consider the suggestion, eyebrows riding high on his forehead. He moved back to the sink. “Would
you
like one?”

Will wasn’t interested in dealing with dog or cat hair or the endless responsibility of caring for an animal. But if it would make Pops happy, he’d do it. “If
you
do.”

Pops rubbed a hand over his chin.

Will attempted to embrace the idea. “It might be cool to have a dog to take out on the boat with us. And he could keep you company while I’m at work.”

Pops nodded. “And dig up my garden and eat our shoes.”

Will chuckled. “I think only puppies do that.”

They both exhaled and discharged the idea as quickly as they’d welcomed it.

Pops pointed to the advertisement section. “Well, there’s also a coupon for a one-man kayak rental at Manatee Park. Five bucks off. And I hear the manatees have moved upriver.”

“Pops, I don’t want to go see manatees today.” This was getting old. Every Saturday brought the same conversation. Today, Will just wanted some downtime. From work, from everything. He dropped his fork on his plate. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re trying to get rid of me?”

Pops’s tender cornflower eyes saddened. “I’m not trying to get rid of you.” He slowly settled into the chair, his words so gentle that they shot a bullet of shame through Will’s gut.

He leaned over the table and took the older man by the arm. “I’m just teasing. I mean, if you’ve got some hottie from the senior center coming over or something, I promise to stay out of the way.” He slid the lightbulb from Pops’s hand and moved to the stepladder, readjusting it under the fixture.

A bright red hue materialized on Pops’s cheeks. “I don’t have any hottie.”

Will smiled. How empty would his world be without his grandfather here? Less frustrating perhaps—especially on Saturday mornings—but completely hollow. He changed the light, giving Pops a nod to flip the switch, and returned to his breakfast, completing yet another task that demonstrated the symbiotic relationship the two men shared.

When Pops had come to live with him after his grandmother died, Will questioned the wisdom in his own offer. Being a busy, dedicated bank executive, did he
really
have time to care for an aging grandfather? Five years later, he couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t include daily chats, playing checkers on the front porch, and fishing in the Gulf of Mexico.

He patted Pops on the shoulder. “What do
you
want to do today?”

Pops sighed. “I guess we could take the boat out.”

“Did you leave any gas in it?” Will asked, voice flat, but the smile that tugged at his lips melted the accusation.

Pops concentrated on a water ring on the table. “Yeah, I think that sounds fun.” It was their Saturday ritual. Take the boat down the canal and out into the Gulf of Mexico. Most days they’d fish, catch dinner—anything from red snapper to tuna, and return home at dusk. After dinner, they’d sit on the front porch until the stars came out. It was a good life.

Pops knew this. Yet he constantly insisted on shaking up a perfectly good schedule, a perfectly balanced routine, with ideas like hiking and kayaking. Time to end the inquisition, once and for all. “Seriously, Pops. Why do you keep trying to get me to go do things I’m not in the mood to do? This happens every Saturday.”

Pops stopped clearing the dishes and faced him. “Will, you’re thirty. And you spend your weekends with an old man.”

“I happen to like that old man.”

“You’re a good young man.” Pops wagged a finger and pinned him with a sharp glare. “But you
are
a
young
man. Since I moved here, you’ve stopped doing so many things you love.”

Will shook his head, but Pops continued. “I know you used to go hiking and kayaking, scuba diving.”

Will grinned, lifting an index finger. “I went scuba diving last month.”

“Yes, and I practically had to force you. You used to go every month.” His face clouded. “I’ve turned you into a geezer.”

Will leaned back and laughed. “That’s absurd.”

“You don’t even go to the gym anymore.” Pops motioned up the stairs. “You put that metal beast thing in your room, and you work out there.”

On the opposite wall, the clock ticked, blinking away moment after moment of time. Precious time. Pops was eighty-one. The death of Will’s grandmother, when she was seventy-five, had been sudden. No warning of the illness that took her in a few short weeks. It had rocked Will’s world. He wouldn’t waste the time he could spend with Pops. He also couldn’t tell his grandfather that.

Pops was philosophical and poetic and would somehow twist it into Will just hiding behind the fear of loss. Pops wasn’t scared to die.

But Will was terrified of losing him.

Will pressed his palms over his eyes and exhaled. “Look, how can I explain this?” Yes, life had changed five years ago, but Will wasn’t a kid anymore. The things that had seemed important to a twenty-five-year-old weren’t important to a thirty-year-old. Now, life had meaning. It had purpose. Still, no real way to explain that without it all coming back to Pops and the time they had together. “Five years ago I was working to get the promotion to executive loan manager.” Within the same week, he’d received the promotion and welcomed Pops as a roommate. “When I got the job, I knew I had to clean out some clutter in my life.”

“The hobbies you had were clutter?” Pops’s voice filled with sadness.

“They’re a distraction,” Will said, hoping Pops believed it. “The job is extremely demanding. Mentally, it’s exhausting. Before I got the promotion, I had a lot of pent-up energy to burn. I don’t have that now. My life had to become more organized, streamlined, to be successful in my new position.”

“You make a convincing argument.” Pops straightened. “But it’s an awfully technical and practical way to look at life. And it doesn’t sound very lively or exciting.”

“Well, everyone can’t lead an exciting life. Some of us just have to work hard, be honest and persistent.” Will did love his work. And some childish things had to be set aside to do his job to the best of his ability.

It was all good. Orderly. No surprises, no shocks. Everyone wanted that kind of stability, that security, right? And Will wanted time. More time to spend with Pops. But the more of a routine Will and Pops developed, the more troubled his grandfather became. Though Pops didn’t say much, Will could sense it. And he wasn’t interested in Pops ruining their unspoken yet carved-in-stone Saturday morning plans.

“Sounds like a rut,” Pops admitted.

“Maybe I like my rut.”

“You know what they say. A rut is just a grave with both ends kicked out.”

“Then it’s not a rut.” Will frowned and tugged at his shirt collar.
Honestly, what thirty-year-old man lived like this?
None he could think of, but it didn’t matter.
He enjoyed his life. There were worse things than losing a few hobbies. Like regret. Yeah, that was a big one. He’d never have to look back and regret how he’d spent his time. “Look, Pops, things are just the way I want them. If they weren’t, I’d make changes.”

The older man watched him through narrowed eyes. “So, if I wasn’t here, you’d still be doing the same things you are now?”

“No, I’d have to fix my own breakfast.”

Pops threw a soft punch into Will’s shoulder. “Funny.” He grew serious again. “It’s not because you’re taking care of me?”

Will laughed. “I think you have that backward. You’re the one who’s taking care of me.”

Pops’s face lit up. “I guess that’s what families do.”

Will stiffened and hoped Pops wouldn’t notice. He tried to swallow the rock lodged in his throat but couldn’t get it down. He rose from the table.
That’s what families do.
That’s what he did. Certainly what Pops did. Now, Will’s mom and dad? Not so. “I’ll clean up. Why don’t you pack us a couple of sandwiches for the day?”

Pops nodded and pulled the cooler from the pantry. “I heard from your folks. They have to cancel their trip home.”

Will nearly dropped the plate he was carrying to the sink. He spun to face Pops. “Are you kidding?”

Pops looked down. Will could tell his grandfather didn’t want him to see the disappointment.

“Did they give a reason?” Will asked through gritted teeth and dropped a glass in the sink with a loud
clink.

“No.” Pops tried to sound cheery, but his voice cracked, betraying him. He forced a smile. “They didn’t.”

A familiar burn settled in Will’s gut.

Pops brushed a hand through the air. “Their work is very important. I don’t have to tell you that. It’s okay that they can’t come. We’ll still have us a humdinger of a time.”

Will filled the sink with warm bubbly water, keeping his back to Pops because, where his mom and dad were concerned, he had a lousy poker face. They’d let Pops down. Again. How could they do that? How could anyone be so heartless?

In the stark silence that followed, Pops worked to fill the cooler. Will glanced over his shoulder. The slight tremor in Pops’s fingers only allowed for slow meticulous movements while working with small things like sandwich bags and Snack Packs.

“It’s your birthday, Pops.” Will forced out a breath when his anger got the better of him. Peace Corps workers or not, his parents were wrong to devalue Pops’s birthday like this. Two years between visits. Two
years
. With each passing day, the gravity of Pops’s age weighed. Eighty-one. How many more birthday celebrations did they think he’d be having?

Their trip home from Africa was all Pops had talked about for weeks—making plans, arranging the spare room to their liking. And now, with no explanation, they simply weren’t coming. Will’s fury burned. But letting Pops know how mad he was would only make matters worse. He forced a smile and glanced over his shoulder. “Humdinger, huh?”