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Chapter One

“Grandma?”

“Mmmm . . . ?” Preoccupied, I absently questioned my young granddaughter without looking up from the letter I was writing.

“Tell me again how you and Grandpa met.”

I chuckled softly, smiling secretly so she wouldn't see my amusement. “Oh, Lucy, do you really want to hear the story again?” I wasn't complaining. I loved telling the story as much or as more as Lucy loved hearing it.

Lucy curled up next to me, trying to get as close as possible without bumping my arm while I wrote. I laid the pen down and put the letter away. It could wait. My granddaughter couldn't.

“Yes, Grandma, and don't leave out any of the good stuff.”

“The good stuff? What makes you think there's any good stuff?” I tickled her, finding her little ribs through her soft baby fat, making her squirm and squeal with delight. She wouldn't be this young very long. Soon, she wouldn't want to hang around her old granny and listen to stories she'd heard a thousand times. In a few years she'd be a teenager and then I'd probably only see her when she was forced to visit.

“Yeah,” Lucy squirmed away, then snuggled right back into the crook of my arm. “You know, like when you first met and you first saw him and when you first fell in lo-o-ove.” Lucy sing-songed the last word, drawing it out and giving it several syllables.

“Well, it's such a long story, are you sure you're up for it?”

“Yes!”

“Ok, then, a story it is. First, let's make some popcorn and I'll phone your mom and dad and let them know that you're going to spend the night.”

Lucy jumped up and down with delight screaming “Yay” at the top of her lungs. I watched her as she danced around the living room, twirling and spinning.

Heading for the kitchen to make my phone call and popcorn, I made a detour and stopped in the den and stood in the doorway watching the man who would soon be the subject of my bedtime story for Lucy.

“Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.”

“I'm going to call Danni and Eric and let them know that Lucy is going to spend the night. We're going to make popcorn. Want some?”

My husband looked up from the book he was reading. His smile knocked me as breathless now as it did when we first met.

“No, I don't think so. Sounds like you girls are going to have a party.”

“Lucy wants me to tell her a story.”

“About how me met?”

“Of course. What else?”

“What ever happened to Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty? Don't little girls like those stories anymore?”

I smiled at my husband and blew him a kiss. “Now, why would she want old stuffy fairy tales like that when she can have the real thing?”

“Oh, go on, you'd have her believing I slew dragons for you if you could.” His bright blue eyes twinkled as he smiled back at me.

“To me, you did,” I whispered. He was my hero. I couldn't resist the desire to touch him just once before continuing on with the night's plans. I skipped to his side as if I was as young and fancy-free as Lucy. I touched a finger to his wrinkled, leathery cheek and stroked it lightly.

He reached up a long, lean hand and enveloped my small one. He squeezed gently. “I love you, you know.”

“I know.” I kissed the top of his head then laid my cheek on his soft silver hair. I breathed in the long, familiar scent that was distinctly his.

“Grandma. . . . Where are you?” Lucy's childish, shrill voice broke through my thoughts.

“The little princess calleth,” my husband's chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. He patted my hand. “You'd better get out there before she decides to start the party without you.”

“Sure you don't want to join us?” I asked as I headed for the doorway.

“As much as I'd like to, I really must finish this book for class on Monday.”

“I understand,” I said nodding my head slowly. Then I stopped with a mischievous look in my eye. “I could write you a note to give the teacher excusing you from your assignment.”

Laughter bubbled up and burst forth from my husband's lips. His smile lit up the room. “Silly goose, I am the teacher.”

We shared a quiet laugh together.

“Grandma, I have mommy on the phone.” Lucy's voice once again interrupted our little world.

“I'd better go. Otherwise, next, she'll start the popcorn.” I turned to leave the room, and then stopped and looked over my shoulder at the man I've called “husband” for nearly ten years. His head was bent as he read his book, the light behind him casting a warm gentle radiance over his tall frame settled into the comfortable leather of his favorite reading chair.

He must have felt me watching him because he looked up at that moment and mouthed, “I love you, wife.”

“I love you, my darling husband.” I said. Then, I turned and closed the door softly so we wouldn't disturb him with the antics of a rambunctious child and an indulging granny.

Chapter Two

Lucy bounced on the sofa, impatiently waiting for me to finish the storytelling rituals.

The fireplace cast a warm glow in the living room as I turned down the lights. I lit two candles and placed the glass hurricane lamps over their base. Their light added just the right touch of ambience for our story-telling mood.

Lucy patted the cushion on the sofa next to her. “Here Grandma, come sit here.”

“Alright, my little sunflower, here I come.”

We settled into the sofa and draped a light quilt over our legs. We placed the bowl of popcorn between us and each munched thoughtfully as we watched the flames in the fireplace flicker and crackle.

We had many rituals, little Lucy and I, when it came to telling this story. And, now that the moment was upon us, we wanted to savor each one.

“Once upon a time . . . “ Lucy began in her soft, childish voice.

“In a make-believe land far, far away . . .” I continued in a hushed tone.

“Where the sky was as blue as the water . . . “ Lucy picked up her cue, giggling only once.

“And the birds were as pink as flamingos!” I finished with a flourish.

“Oh, Grandma, they WERE flamingos!”

I slapped my forehead as if I were confused. “Why, I think you're right, Lucy. They were flamingos! Pink ones with dark, movie star sunglasses!”

We laughed and giggled our way through the familiar story, each picking up a part of the tale when one would stop to draw a breath.

By the time I'd reached the point where “Grandma and Grandpa lived happily ever after” my only grandchild was fast asleep with her small head in my lap.

I ran my fingers through her long, silky little curls. She had her mother's dark hair, and her father's green eyes. The child was beautiful. No doubt about it.

I whispered a prayer of thanks for the gifts I'd received in my life. I'd been truly blessed.

I slid out from underneath Lucy without waking her and stretched my back. I twisted to the left and then to the right while keeping my hands at the small of my back. It felt good to work the kinks out from sitting so long.

I loved these special times with Lucy. Especially when she wanted to share such a happy time in my life. Of course, as a child, she received the edited version of the real story. She was too young to hear the whole story. Come to think of it, not many people knew the whole story. Those who had been with me from the beginning knew it. The only others were a select few who I had brought into my confidence through the years.

It had been so long, I wasn't sure if I even remembered the whole story anymore. Time had a funny way of playing tricks on your memory.

I knew there might come a time when I would start forgetting what happened. I'd prepared for this day. Scrapbooks, journals, and other odds and ends filled a box on the top shelf of my bedroom closet.

I banked the fire and closed the glass doors so that no sparks could escape. Slowly, still stiff from sitting so long, I climbed the stairs to the large bedroom suite I shared with my husband.

Dragging the small footstool from the chair in the corner of the room to my closet, I stood and reached for the box I hadn't looked inside since I put it on the shelf so many years ago.

My hands shook and I hesitated. Did I want to do this?

Yes. It was time.