“Oh, how your gran loved you, Molly,” Mr. Preston says. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“And you kept in touch with her over the years?” I ask.
“Yes. She was friendly with my wife, Mary. And from time to time, when Flora was in trouble, she’d call me. But the real trouble happened early.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Did it ever occur to you that you had a grandfather?”
“Yes,” I say. “Gran called him a ‘fly-by-night too.’？”
“Did she?” he says. “He was many things, but never that. He’d never have flown away if he’d had a choice. He was forced. Anyhow, he was known to me. A friend, you could say. And you know how things happen when love is fresh and the blush is still on the rose.” Mr. Preston pauses to clear his throat. “As it turns out, Flora was with child. And when she could hide it no longer and her parents found out, that’s when they really turned their backs on her, for good. Poor girl. She wasn’t yet seventeen. She was just a child secretly running away with a child of her own. That’s why she became a domestic.”
It’s hard to imagine, Gran on her own like that, losing everything, everyone. I feel a heaviness on my shoulders, a sadness that I can’t quite name.
“She was bright, your gran. Could have won scholarships to any school,” Mr. Preston says. “But in those days, as an unwed woman with child, say goodbye to education.”
“Now, wait just a second, Dad,” Charlotte says. “Something doesn’t make sense. Who was this friend of yours? And where is he now?”
“The last I heard, he has a family of his own that he loves very much. But he’s never forgotten Flora. Never.”
Charlotte’s head cocks to the side. She eyes her father in a funny way that I don’t quite understand. “Dad?” she says. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“My dear girl,” he says. “I think I’ve said quite enough already.”
“Did you know my mother too?” I ask him.
“Yes. Now, she was a true fly-by-night, I’m afraid. Your gran had me try to talk some sense into her when she shacked up with the wrong fellow. I went to see her, tried to pry her from the flophouse she was living in, but she wouldn’t listen. Your poor gran, the pain of that…of losing a child the way she did…” Mr. Preston’s eyes fill with tears. Charlotte grabs his hand.
“Your gran was so good, that she was,” Mr. Preston says. “When my Mary was struggling near the end, your gran came to her rescue.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Mary was in extreme pain and so was I. I sat by her bedside holding her hand, saying, ‘Please don’t go. Not yet.’ Flora watched it all, then drew me aside. She said, ‘Don’t you see? She won’t leave you until you tell her it’s time.’？”
That’s exactly what Gran would have said. I hear her words echo in my head. “Then what happened?” I ask.
“I told Mary I loved her and I did as Flora said. That’s all my wife needed to rest in peace.”
Mr. Preston can’t hold back his sobs any longer.
“You did the right thing, Dad,” Charlotte says. “Mom was suffering.”
“I always wanted to repay your gran, for showing me the way.”
“You have repaid her, Mr. Preston,” I say. “You’ve come to my aid, and Gran would be grateful.”
“Oh no, that’s not me,” Mr. Preston says. “That’s Charlotte.”
“No, Dad. You insisted on this. You convinced me we had to help this young maid you worked with. I think I’m starting to see why it was so important to you.”
“A friend in need is a friend indeed,” I say. “Gran thanks you. All of you. If she were here, she’d say it herself.”
With that, Mr. Preston stands, as does Charlotte. “Well, let’s not get too soggy then,” he says as he wipes his cheeks. “We best be going.”
“It’s been a long day,” Charlotte adds. “Juan Manuel, we brought your real overnight bag from your locker at the hotel. It’s by the front closet.”
“Thank you,” he says.
It strikes me suddenly, an urgent feeling. I don’t want them to leave. What if they walk out of my life and never come back? It’s not the first time that has happened. The thought puts me instantly on edge.
“Will I be seeing you again?” I ask. I can’t keep the anxiety out of my voice.