"Come on in, come on in," Grandma said, waving us up to the house. "I have supper ready to go. Figured you'd be hungry."
"Starved," I said. "What'd you make?"
She winked at me. "Grandpa's roast and my mashed potatoes."
My blissed-out groan made everyone laugh again.
The cabin hadn't changed at all since the last time I'd been there, and I took comfort in that. The couches and chairs, all faded brown leather, still had the same blankets folded along the back. The fieldstone fireplace and long oak mantle held the same photos in shiny silver frames of varying shapes and sizes. That was my grandma for you. If she found one thing she liked, whether it be pots of flowers, crocheted blankets, or picture frames, she'd fill her space to the brim with every variation.
The floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the house ushered in a hushed silence as our guests caught the view of the sun setting over the foothills.
"It's so beautiful here," Molly said. "I can see why you love it."
I glanced at her because I couldn't tell whether she was speaking to me or Grandma. My grandma was the one who responded, and that was probably for the best. "I'll stay here till I die, that's for sure. Can't imagine watching the sunset anywhere other than right here, even when there's snow as high as my head and the wind cuts right through your bones." She patted my arm. "That's what I told Noah when I saw it for the first time. This is the one, and if you don't mind, bury me in the back by the pine tree grove. Keep your funeral costs down."
I shook my head when Molly laughed.
"Where should we bring our stuff, Miss Griffin?" Rick asked.
Grandma showed Rick and Marty to the upstairs guest rooms, leaving Molly and me alone in the family room.
"You bought this for her, didn't you?"
My exhale was slow and steady. There was no real point in denying it, and at least I could be glad she didn't ask when Marty was around with his camera. When I turned my head toward her, though, she wasn't looking at me. She was studying the photos on the mantle, smiling at the varying phases of me in my youth.
"Yeah, I did." I approached the fireplace and reached past Molly, the inside of my arm brushing her shoulder as I plucked one of the smaller frames. It was of my grandpa and me, and I couldn't have been more than six. It was a few years before he died, and he'd just taken me fishing. It was the first time I caught a smallmouth bass on my own. It was tiny, and I barely kept it on the line long enough for my grandma to snap a picture, but my grandpa smiled so proudly, you would've thought I'd snagged a six-foot marlin.
"When I got my signing bonus from Miami, I came straight here and paid cash for it. My whole life, I'd heard my grandma say she wanted a little plot of land at the base of the foothills, with two horses and some goats to keep her company. The house didn't need to be fancy, just big enough to hold her family when they came to visit." My voice got rough by the time I'd forced the last sentence out.
When Molly turned, her big blue eyes full of so much understanding, I had to look away.
How did she know me so well already, that she could instantly see my guilt in what I'd just admitted?
I was setting the photo back when her cool, firm fingers wrapped around mine and wove our hands together.
"You're here now, Noah," she said quietly. "That's what matters."
My jaw clenched tight, and I found myself nodding. Briefly, I allowed my fingers to tighten around hers, an anchor I hadn't asked for nor had I expected, but still had a hard time letting go of.
As I extricated my fingers from hers, the brush of skin on skin had me breathing unevenly.
Ridiculous.
That was the problem with choosing a celibate life, wasn't it? One small touch of her skin on mine had me desperately trying to rein in every caveman impulse galloping through my flimsy veins.
Carrying her suitcase for her, I showed her the main guest room across from the family room but was smart enough not to follow her in. My eyes landed briefly on the king-size bed as she laid her suitcase on it.
And still, I closed the door to give her some privacy as I brought my own things downstairs to the bed my grandma had assigned me for the next two nights. It wasn't as big, and it wasn't as comfortable, but I couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief that there was an entire flight of stairs separating me from Molly.
By the time I came back upstairs, they were all sitting down at the long wood table as my grandma served up fragrant spoonsful of tender roast and gravy. It was the kind of home-cooked meal that I never got unless I took the time to make it myself.