The Woman from the Past (Grassi Framily)

“Granted, babe, our story is a good one, but it might not be the craziest one around.”

“I’m not sure I should find that as comforting as I do,” she said.

“It means you will fit right in.”

“You think?” she asked, and there was that little hint of insecurity and vulnerability there.

I hated hearing it. And I was going to do whatever it took to help build her back up and make her feel comfortable in this new phase of her life.

I knew it wouldn’t just be me, either. That was the perk of a large, loving family, something she’d never been privy to growing up.

She had no idea what was in store for her, what she would learn about herself and what she was capable of when she had the safety net of dozens of people who wanted to see her be happy and succeed.

It built you up. It made you believe that anything was possible. And it also comforted you because you knew that even if you did go for it and you failed, if you crashed and went home to lick your wounds, that they would be right there, with food, helping you recover, then encouraging you to get going once again.

It wouldn’t take long for Cammie.

Once she accepted that she fit in, it would only be a few weeks before she started to feel better, maybe a few months or a year until she believed to her core that everything would be okay, no matter what happened.

I was excited to see it. And to know what that love and safety would mean for her future.

But it was all going to start with a dinner.

“What’s up?” I asked when she started to frown again.

“What do you wear to meet the mother of the guy you started dating after you tracked him down and begged him for help after he once kind of inadvertently ruined your life?”

“What I’m hearing is you want to go shopping,” I said, smiling.

“And get Chinese,” she agreed. “And drive past the beach. And find some good coffee. I have a lot of time to make up for,” she added.

Yes, she did.

And I was happy to be along for the ride.