Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“I’m not old,” I blurted out.
“No,” she agreed quickly, smiling and using her there-there tone.
I glared at her. She snorted out a laugh. I was not terrifying in the least.
The afternoon of the party, as people started to trickle in, I asked her if she would have preferred just to have a family party.
“No, I wanted whoever was interested in coming, to come. And for some of my classmates, this will be the last time I’ll see them unless I go to a reunion,” she explained. “I mean, my serious friends, the ones who came over to the house and met you and Dad, the ones in my coven—I’ll see them. But the people I only know from school, this’ll be it.”
I nodded.
“Did you have friends like that too?”
I shook my head. “No, honey, I didn’t have any friends. Not school ones or any other kind. I was what’s known as a loner.”
She squinted at me. “I find that very hard to believe.”
“Well, when I went to school, back in the time of the dinosaurs––”
“Stop it,” she cautioned. “Just tell your story.”
“For me,” I said softly, “at that time, being different wasn’t good. It was hard and even a bit dangerous, and it was only me and my grandmother.”
“So coming to Chicago was a good thing.”
“It was,” I assured her. “The change for me was like night and day. My experiences here have never been where I was afraid to be gay.”
She nodded, clearly thinking about something. “You said it was only you and your grandmother. Have you ever heard from your mother? Ever?”
“No.”
“And your grandmother didn’t hear from her either?”
“No. She would have told me.”
“And when your grandmother died, she didn’t come for the funeral?”
I shook my head.
She was quiet for a moment. “You know, most people have to do those DNA tests to find their family, but you’re lucky that way because you live with a guy who could find her.”
“I do, yes,” I agreed with a chuckle.
“Then?”
“Here’s my issue with that,” I began. “She left a long time ago and never looked back. My last name was Keyes, just like hers, for ages before it was Harcourt, and she never contacted me. It would be sad to think she passed and I never knew, but that was her choice.”
“But you have her name and social security number. Your grandmother gave that to you,” she reminded me. “You could just give that to Dad, and I’m sure he could find her.”
I smiled at her. “Has Uncle Dane ever told you the story of how he found his biological family and how that worked out?”
She squinted at me. “No.”
“Maybe ask him the next time you see him and you’ll understand my hesitancy.”
Nodding slowly, unsurely, she turned and walked away, looking back over her shoulder before she left the house.
The party was amazing. I’d never seen such an outpouring of love. People I hadn’t seen in years popped by to see Hannah, to wish her well and tell her how much they appreciated the time she’d given them. And of course, her family was there, Sam’s and mine. Her grandparents showed, as well as her aunts and uncle. Dane and Aja and their kids were there, as well as our friends, which included Aaron and Duncan. George was deployed or he would have been there, but Kurt popped in to congratulate her. Hannah had asked for donations to various charities in lieu of graduation money, and I couldn’t have been prouder. She was overwhelmed and was moved to tears several times during the warm summer night.
Once the party was over at our house, Hannah was going to visit some of her friends’ parties that were still raging on. She took a couple of her girlfriends, as well as her brother and Jake, and headed out. Harper had to leave with his family for a two-week trip in their RV—something he dreaded—and so couldn’t go.
“It’ll be fun,” I assured him. “Cross-country, seeing all the sights, should be epic.”
The look he gave me made me spit out my water. Apparently, he had no interest in what was between us and the Grand Canyon. His mother had told me if he was too precious, she might ship him back to me. I’d assured her that I would make a trip to the airport, day or night, to pick him up.
It was really nice that Dylan and Chris stayed to help us clean up, but Dylan especially was on cloud nine. Her son Micah, all of twenty-three, had gotten a job—a really good, well-paying one writing code at a start-up that he truly believed in—and was moving out. Much like us, if our kids wanted to live with us forever, that was okay. But Micah had become the basement troll, and Dylan had despaired of a life for him.