Feels like Rain (Lake Fisher 3)

“I suspected as much,” Gran says. She leans back on her hands and stares at nothing. “I can’t help but think that Charles doing what he did was the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“I know, right?” I say dramatically, but she scolds me with a look. “You’re right, Gran,” I say on a heavy sigh. “I guess I should send Sandra a thank-you card.”

Gran snorts out a laugh. “That would be pushing it a little too far.”

It’s Sunday night, and Camille and Rachel left this afternoon so they could beat the storm back to the city. Gran didn’t want to drive back all by herself, even if she would be a few hours ahead of the storm, so she’s staying until after the rain they’re calling for passes.

She hugs her arms around herself. “It feels like rain,” she says. “My old bones are aching.”

“I told him why I love the rain so much,” I say quietly. I’ve never needed to be loud with Gran. She can hear my heart, even if I only share it in a whisper.

“Hmm,” she hums.

“How are Mom and Dad?” I ask her. I haven’t spoken to them in a few months. Usually, I get an obligatory birthday card, a Christmas gift, and a few random calls a year from them. They both still work all the time, and they still don’t have time for children, even now that I’m grown.

“They’re fine,” she says. She lifts her nose in the air and stares down it. “I’m sorry they were so good at disappointing you.”

“They did have a flair for it, didn’t they?”

“Doesn’t mean they don’t love you,” she tosses out. I’ve heard all this before, though.

“I didn’t lack for anything, Gran. Nothing at all.” I smile at her. Gran was all I ever needed. She still is. I can talk to her about anything. “They gave me what they could” —which was remarkably nothing— “and you gave me the rest.” I shrug. “I’m okay with that.”

The lake looks like a sheet of glass, smooth as silk, as the sun sets over the water. The muted oranges and pinks that shine off the water’s surface make it seem even more beautiful. The leaves have started to change colors. The bite of fall is definitely in the air.

“Where’s the duck?” Gran asks suddenly.

I smile. “Wilbur is somewhere over Georgia, as of this morning.” Ethan was surprised when he checked the app to find that his duck had gone south. “Probably trying to get out ahead of the storm.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“I have no idea.” I hope he does, for Ethan’s sake. “At least we can see him moving around. That helps.”

“You can’t raise something, watch it grow, love it with all your heart, and then not feel a little bereft when it leaves.”

“Gran,” I say g

ently, “I’m not going to abandon you.”

She stares up at the darkening clouds. “I didn’t worry about you leaving me when you met Charles,” she says.

“Why not?”

“Because you didn’t love him. Not really. You liked him, and he might have liked you back for a while, but you didn’t love him.” She tilts her head toward Ethan. “Not like you love him.” She sucks in a surprised breath and covers her heart. “And that little one, he’s just the icing on the cake.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to be a mom. It just didn’t call to me the way it does to some people.”

“And now?”

I grin. “I adore Mitchell. And I hope that one day he’ll look back and see me in all his mom memories.” I grab her hand and squeeze it. “Kind of the same way that I see you.”

She blinks hard, her eyes welling up with tears. “Motherhood is a crazy mix of being someone who loves them and someone who turns them into good people. The two are not always synonymous. And the last part can sometimes be a job. The former comes naturally.”

“This morning, he climbed into bed between us, trying not to wake us up. He was the cutest thing.” I grin at the memory. He had grabbed my hand, then Ethan’s, and lined them up with his own so that all our bracelets were touching. I’d leaned over and pressed my lips to his forehead, while Ethan had kissed the back of his head at the same time, and Mitchell had dozed off there between us for about an hour. His warm little body had smelled like wood smoke and lavender shampoo, and he’d smacked his lips in his sleep.

“If you weren’t you, and Ethan wasn’t Ethan, I would have warned you to go a little slower,” she says. “But since you’re you, and Ethan is Ethan, I didn’t see any need.”

“You couldn’t have slowed me down.” I grin at her. “I’ve never felt like this before.” I shake my head. “Never, ever.”