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I look around the spacious kitchen. It’s white and bright and has all the latest appliances, yet still has a bit of country charm.
We all grin when Connor gives a contented sigh as the last bite of cookie disappears into his mouth. “Thanks, Grandma.” He ignores the napkin I hold out and instead wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He leaves a trace of chocolate on his chin.
In a voice filled with emotion, Carson asks, “So, Mom, what do you think of your grandson, Connor Carlton?”
“Connor Carlton?” Her eyes fly to Carson, and then she looks over at me. I smile and nod. “I named him after his grandfather.”
When Carson’s mother blinks, a single tear spills over onto her cheek. She gently wipes it away, her gaze lingering on me with a warmth that speaks volumes. Her eyes return to Connor as he finishes the last of his milk. “That’s a very fine name,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.
At lunchtime, we all sit down around her large dining room table. The aroma of Bonnie’s huge tray of lasagna with garlic bread fills the air, making our mouths water. She has a grand time filling Connor’s ear with funny stories about Carson and his brothers. My son’s laughter is contagious, and soon, the dining room is filled with hearty laughter.
Afterward, we wander over the grounds. Bonnie’s home sits on a huge piece of land directly on the St. John’s River. She has a large boathouse that sits proudly by the dock. Connor is between Carson and me, each of us holding his hand. We stroll out over the wooden planks and perch on the edge, our feet dangling over the slow-moving river.
Dappled sunlight glints off the waves as we listen to the water lapping softly against the dock. The sound mingles with the chirping of birds overhead.
As we sit, I look over at my son, “Remember when we used to pick out images in the clouds?”
Connor scoffs, “When I was five.”
I point to one of the cottony clouds overhead, “Doesn’t that look like a duck?” He squints his eyes and says, “Yeah, and look at that one. That looks like an elephant.”
Soon, Carson joins in. I have to pinch myself because it feels like we’re a real family.
We reluctantly stand as the sun lowers in the sky and the shadows lengthen. We head back toward the house amid Connor’s endless questions about the motorboat and going out on the water.
Connor is practically bouncing up and down when Carson promises we’ll return for a boat ride. He explains the boat belongs to his brother. But Carter left the keys for any of the family to use.
“When can we go out on the boat?” Connor asks with wonder in his eyes. The eagerness in his voice tugs on my heartstrings.
Carson chuckles. “Thinking maybe tomorrow or the next day. Depends on when Uncle Chase wants us over for dinner. I’ll call both my brothers tonight, but I have a feeling we’ll be invited to come over tomorrow.”
“Cool!” That one word conveys his eagerness to meet more of Carson’s family.
“Connor, do you like to fish?” Carson asks.
“Fish? I don’t know. I’ve never been fishing,” Connor says, his eyes wide.
“We’ll have to go fishing one day soon,” Carson promises. Connor looks up at him with sincere eyes. “I think I’ll like fishing with you, Dad.”
Carson reaches out with one arm, unable to resist, and pulls our son into a side hug. “You bet you will,” he says, his voice husky as he buries his face in Connor’s soft hair.
I swallow the lump in my throat that’s been there ever since we arrived. The entire day has been filled with emotional reunions between grandma and grandson, as well as a day of discovery between father and son. I’ve been trying to hold my emotions in check, otherwise I’ll be crying uncontrollably and going through a box of tissues.
While the focus has been on our son, there’s a subtle thread of awareness between his father and me. A few times today, I’ve turned and caught Carson’s eyes lingering on me for a beat too long. His stares cause an unfamiliar heat to spread through my lower abdomen.
The more time we spend together, the easier the conversation flows between us. The way we seem to anticipate each other’s thoughts - it’s all so familiar. I thought those things had faded with time, but here they are, resurfacing.
Laughing at something Connor said, I look up to find Carson mirroring my amusement, shared laughter sparking in our eyes. Then, just as quickly, he looks away. A flicker of something akin to resentment crosses his features as if the reminder of our connection is unwelcome.
My smile falters. This unspoken tension between us, a tangled mess of emotions, adds another layer of complexity to our already strained relationship.
Soon, we’re at the door saying our goodbyes to Bonnie. Connor snuggles closer to his grandma, clearly enjoying the newfound attention she’s lavishing on him.
“You’ll come back and visit me often, won’t you?” she asks us. Carson smiles, “Yes, Mom. I was going to suggest that we throw a cookout, but later, after our immediate family gets to know everyone.”
Bonnie smiles approvingly, “I think that sounds wonderful.” She leans down so she’s at eye level with Connor. “It was so wonderful to meet you, Connor. Knowing I have such a wonderful grandson makes me happy.”
Connor ducks his head. “I like having a wonderful grandma, too.” Carson’s mother can’t contain the smile that blooms across her face.
