Fortuity (Transcend 3)

Gracelyn waves her off. “She’s good. I’m heading back over just as soon as I’m done talking to Morgan.” She turns to follow Morgan upstairs. They give me an evil glare but don’t say anything. I hold my own. This isn’t my fault they’re keeping secrets from me. I’m the only functioning adult in this situation.

When I hear the bedroom door click shut, I inch up the stairs and hover next to the door with my ear almost touching it.

“Gabe told me about your secret.”

“Gah! He’s such a snitch.”

Gracelyn laughs a little. “I’m not defending what he said to you, even though I do believe he wasn’t intentionally trying to be mean or hurt you. And the only reason he told me everything was because you put him in an impossible situation because you don’t want to tell your dad.”

“I can’t tell him. He won’t understand. I’m already sentenced to laundry and dishes for something he knows nothing about. He would kill me … literally kill me if he found out.”

I stand corrected. She has no issue telling Gracelyn about her punishment. And for the record … I would never literally kill her for anything. I roll my eyes before closing them and shaking my head.

“Listen, I don’t have a sob story to give you about my terrible childhood. Honestly, I have great parents. It’s not that I never got in trouble. I did. But I never questioned their love for me, the way you should never question your dad’s love for you.”

“He doesn’t want me to grow up. He doesn’t want me to be like other kids. He worries about everything. And … and I feel like I’m his whole world, which I know should be a really great feeling. But it’s not. Why can’t he be happy even if I do something that he doesn’t like? Why can’t he love me if I’m normal and like other kids?”

Ouch!

I flinch. That hurts.

“First, normal doesn’t mean you’re not unique. No two people are exactly alike. Your dad wants …”

I lean closer to the door, but I can’t hear anything. What does Gracelyn think I want? She’s been a parent for two seconds. How can she know what I want for this young girl who has owned every inch of my being for over ten years?

“Your dad wants the best for you. The problem with wanting the best for someone is that it changes. What was best for you yesterday might not be the same today. It’s hard to see changes that are sometimes so subtle. It’s why adults feel like kids grow up in a blink. Trust me, you will always be a tiny, swaddled baby in your dad’s eyes.”

“But I’m not a baby.”

“I know. And he knows it too. Moms and dads don’t like to think that their babies are getting bigger. So we’re always a few steps behind in seeing it. You need to just give your dad that little extra time to see it.”

“What if he never sees it?”

“He will.”

Another thirty seconds of silence follows. I hate this door. I hate feeling so completely shut out of her life when I feel like she needs me the most.

“Now … I want to give you a little advice about boys. Ignore them until they chase you, until they write you a million love letters, until they steal flowers from their mom’s rose garden to give you, until they steal that first kiss and give you the best grin before they tell you they regret nothing.”

Morgan giggles.

This woman … she’s slowly killing me.

“I like that,” Morgan says. “Stolen kisses. I want to plan on stolen kisses.”

“No. Stolen kisses are never planned. And here’s another thing you need to know right now … ten-year-old boys don’t write love letters or steal more than candy at the bank. Gabe’s still trying to figure out how to be Gabe. He’s desperate to hold onto the familiar since his world disappeared a few months ago. And he, too, is trying to figure out where he fits in. Give him a chance to apologize.”

“Will you talk to my dad? I know if I tell him, he’ll take it away.”

“Then you have a weak case. You’re the smartest young girl I have ever met, and I was a pretty smart cookie when I was young, but you’re smarter. So if you think you deserve this chance, then you have to show him with your words, not mine.”

Morgan’s sigh is audible. “Fine.”

That’s my cue to leave before they open the door. I hightail it downstairs into the kitchen.

“Eavesdropping?” Mom asks, filling the halved eggs.

“No.” I grab a drink of water. “Yes.” I grin just before taking a sip.

“I like Gracelyn.”

I nod.

She grins. “Morgan does too.”

“Yeah.” I set the empty glass onto the counter.

“Wrong place, right time.”

I’m inclined to play dumb and make her spell it out for me, but I’m not dumb. “We both know that.”