“And why didn’t you ask her to stay at that apartment?”
My grandparents did an amazing job raising us, but we did not talk about sex or even relationships. I’m pretty sure Gran knows that Ethan and Alex sleep with their girlfriends, but no one has ever acknowledged that in front of her, as far as I know. “Um, because she’s been staying with you.”
“Well, she isn’t anymore,” Gran snaps.
“Gran, you know she was going to leave eventually. She has plans for her channel.”
“Is that what you want?”
It’s probably a terrible idea, but I find myself admitting to her what I haven’t been able to admit to myself. “Of course not. But I can’t do anything about it.”
“Did you tell her how you feel about her?”
“Um... What do you mean?”
“It’s obvious there’s something special between the two of you.”
“It is?”
“Samuel Daniel Bedd. Stop being such a numbskull. Why do you think I let your damn dog sleep on the couch for the past two weeks?”
“You knew about that?”
“Of course I knew, Samuel. I have eyes in my head, and you don’t shed. But I wanted to give you and Diane time to figure out that you’re perfect for each other.” She sniffs. “And Gomer is very good at fetching things. I kind of miss him.”
Gomer barks, hopping up from the floor where he’d been curled at the feet of my chair, and snuffles at the phone, probably trying to tell her he misses her too.
And then it hits me.
I might never see Diane again. Sliding down to the floor, I put my arm around my dog. How could I have let her go?
“Well,” Gran says, “it’s obvious what you have to do. Find her and convince her to come back.”
“I can’t do that, Gran,” I say, the back of my head thudding against the counter behind me.
“Of course you can. We’ll help you.”
“No. I can’t,” I argue, even though I want to. More than anything.
“So you do hate it here?” she asks softly. “You’re not planning to stay?”
“No, Gran. That’s not it at all. I love it here,” I say, realizing how deeply I mean it as the words leave my mouth. “But I can’t ask her to come back because it will kill me when she leaves again.”
“But she might not leave. Especially if you do a good job of convincing her to stay.”
“She will.” My throat tight, my jaw tighter, I push out the words I need to make her understand. “Just like Mom and Dad did.”
“They didn’t leave you, Sam,” she says softly, but firmly. “They were taken from us. It was an accident. A horrible twist of fate.”
I hate hearing these words. The words that everyone used. When I knew the real story. “What if it wasn’t?”
“Wasn’t an accident? We know it was. The police reports—”
“What if it wasn’t fate?” I grind out. “Or random? What if it was because of me?”
There’s a pause, a short one, but she definitely hesitates before asking, “What are you talking about?”
“I begged them to come home early, because I’m selfish,” I say, needing the words to be outside of me. Needing to release them from the tiny cage where I’ve held them so tightly and for so long. “I wanted to feel special because it wasn’t enough that they sacrificed so much for us. I asked them to drive back in time for the Science Olympiad just because I’d been invited to compete in more events than anyone else in the school. And they did. They left that night instead of waiting till the next day. And then they never came home.”
Tears blur my vision. Or maybe it’s the way I’ve pressed my fists into my eyeballs. “It’s my fault they’re dead. I told them I needed them, and that killed them.”
“Oh, Sam,” Gran says, her voice high and breathy. “I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying this. I’m sure they wanted to be there for you. They were so proud of you. But—” She breaks off and clears her throat before continuing. “There was a problem with the hopper on the grain cart. Your grandfather was very frustrated and told them about it. We’ve always thought they decided to come home early because your father wanted to help fix it. He was so much better with the machinery, the way Ethan is.”
She blows out a long sigh. “Your grandfather felt guilty about it for the rest of his days. I sometimes wonder if it may have colored how he treated you kids. He may have kept you at a distance because of it.”
The way I have, is what I think. But what I say is, “I thought he resented having to take care of us.”
“Oh no, honey. That I know for sure. And to be honest, I don’t think that either the science contest or the hopper was the primary reason they decided to leave early.”
When she doesn’t continue, I stare at the phone, squeezing it like that will make her keep talking. “What was it then?” I whisper.
“I found something after your grandpa died. I wasn’t sure whether to share it or not. But it might make you feel better. It was a note from your mom to your dad. She wrote him a poem and drew a little picture, telling him that she was pregnant again and she couldn’t wait to get home and share the news. It was dated the day they headed home.”
Before their car was crushed by a runaway semi.
“So it wasn’t your fault or your grandfather’s,” my grandmother says, her voice sounding far, far away. “Or anyone’s, really. It was just… a terribly sad accident.”
