Page 25 of Rootbound
I grab a waffle the size of my face, topping itwith a berry syrup concoction of some kind, some scrambled eggs, the most burnt bacon I spot out of the batch, help myself to some coffee, and head over to the table.
“Don’t wait to dig in, the door will be revolving all morning so just go ahead and eat,” Grady says.
Grace backhands his shoulder lightly. “You don’t need to rush her, leave her be.”
I go for something in-between and methodically cut my waffle so I can eat slowly. I want to get this meal, and any of the discomfort it promises, out of the way, so I want to be sure to get some chat in. “Thank you, this is delicious,” I say, and mean it.
“You’re welcome any morning,” Grace replies with a nod. I smile at her, her expression pinching. It’s not pity, nor is it sadness that I see in that expression. It’s a tentative nervousness.
Caleb adds, “When the cast and crew gets back you’ll probably want to get here earlier though, they clean house at group meals.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you. I’ll probably get to the store today and get some things for back at the cabin since I keep odd hours with… lighting and such anyway.” Bullshit, but this has already been enough for today. The familiarity slices.
Grady, sporting a cat-with-a-canary grin, says, “Oh, Henry swung by on his way to the stables and told me he has to go to town with you for a new camera today. Hopefully that won’t take too long for you.”
“What happened to your camera?” Grace asks, brow folding.
I spot Grady chuckling out of the corner of my eye and realize that having a little brother would have indeed beenas annoying as I’d suspected. I take a sip of my coffee before I launch into the explanation, but I’m saved as we hear the front door chime.
“Where is she?!” A loud, deep, and melodious voice chimes in. “Where’s my granddaughter?!”
“I don’t know, Mother, I doubt the girl is even here, the last thing she needs is you barreling in at her. She’s petrified as it is.” I recognize LeighAnn’s voice.
“Bullshit, LeighAnn.”
“Jesus, that woman knows how to make an entrance,” Grady mutters.
Everyone’s paused in their chewing, eyes wide and looking at me when Emmaline Logan and LeighAnn round the corner to the kitchen.
Grandma Logan is the same intimidating woman from my memories. I don’t remember being scared of her exactly, just anxious of her lack of fear, and her lack of gentleness. She was always loud, always laughing, or yelling. She was always squeezing us. I remember sensing my mother’s tension around her the most, though. She must be over eighty now, and looks exactly the same… olive skin, white hair cut in an elegant sort of pixie cut—think Princess Diana in the early nineties—always in blue jeans and boots, even now. She darts her hazel eyes, the same shade as mine, to me, and her hand flies up to rest against her mouth. Her eyes immediately fill with tears and she approaches the table, never once breaking eye contact.
“Well, stand your ass up so I can look at you,” she booms, and I jump before I immediately comply. She’s all of five-two, but is as straight-backed as I am, and she commands the entire room. Everyone sits up a little straighter, pauses in their eating. I haven’t finished chewingthe waffle in my mouth, so I hope she doesn’t ask to inspect my teeth or anything. She drops her purse abruptly onto Grady’s lap and takes my face in her hands.
“Well, look at you. You finally made it.”
She seems so genuinely happy, and the gesture, her voice—that damnfamiliarityagain. The sense of déjà vu, and the deceptive level of comfort all overwhelm and confuse me. Why now, why after this long? It makes me desperate to return the love, desperate to live in the warmth of knowing that there is a group of people that might drive me crazy at times, but because of some shared DNA, want to love me and have my back. I hate how much I want to return it. I’ve been to enough therapy to recognize this as something hollow in me, seeking them out to fill a void. I’ve worked hard enough to build my own life to know that I shouldn’t need it, not if it’s coming from a place of convenience or control—and what other reason could there be? I’m not some unknown illegitimate; they’ve always known I was out there. Why didn’t they come sooner? I feel like I’d hardened myself into stone; solid, steady, strong. But, in the short time since arriving here, I’ve been continuously chipped away at from all sides.
I swallow the dry lump of waffle and manage to smile back, feeling my eyes well up in spite of my efforts. The anger is already less sharp, her proximity filing it down immediately, but the confusion and the sadness settle in deeper.
“How is it possible that you look exactly the same?” I manage.
“Oh honey, if you don’t use it, you lose it. And I useallof it,” she winks. Then gestures for Grady to move out of his seat. He rolls his eyes but obliges.
I take that as my cue to sit back down also.
“Well, let’s get to it. Caleb, be a dear and go get me some fruit. Tait—” She levels me with that stare again. “Keep chewing honey, we aren’t picky about manners here. I’m old and I have no time to beat around the bush.”
“Momma, let her eat,” LeighAnn pleads.
“Oh shove off, LeighAnn. Tait—I want you to know that your dad forbade us all from you girls. He managed to keep your information hidden from us for years. I love my son, but he’s a damn idiot for not standing up to your mother. While I used my own resources to keep tabs as best I could, I’m sure you can understand that, even as a grandmother, I needed to respect your mother’s wishes.”
At this, Grace stiffens and interrupts. “Emma, let Charlie.” I cast her a grateful look.
“Absolutely not, Grace. I understand that there are parts of this that aren’t mine to tell, but I am allowed to speakmypiece here. Lord knows I’ve earned it.” They exchange knowing glances.
“Tait, I want you to know that we’ve never stopped wanting to be in your lives. And the moment that you were old enough that it was no longer up to your mom, we did what we could to keep track of you while respecting the fact that you, as a grown woman, knew your mind and didn’t want to be involved with us. I thought maybe when you were gifted your wedding present you might reach out, but again, that’s water under the bridge—”
“Wait.” She looks momentarily shocked to be interrupted, but I need to clarify something. “What are you talking about?”