Chapter 14 - The Long Walk Through the Garden
By spring, Grant no longer used the wheelchair.
A cane remained necessary on bad days.
Owen’s prediction had been right.
The poison had caused damage.
The shooting had caused more.
Grant would never move exactly as he had before.
He stopped caring.
Walking was enough.
One mild April afternoon, he crossed the east garden alone.
Claire was pruning roses.
Lily was chasing soap bubbles across the lawn.
Grant managed the gravel path without the cane for the first time.
Claire noticed halfway through.
She froze.
Lily noticed next.
“Mr. Blackwood!”
She ran toward him, then stopped abruptly.
Grant smiled.
“You can hug me.”
“I don’t want to knock you over.”
“That is unusually thoughtful.”
She considered it, then wrapped both arms carefully around one leg.
Grant steadied himself.
Claire’s eyes were wet.
“You made it.”
“Apparently.”
Lily looked up.
“Your feet are good now.”
“Mostly.”
“I fixed them.”
Grant looked toward Claire.
“Obviously.”
Claire laughed.
That sound had become familiar.
So had dinners in the guest cottage.
Lily’s drawings in his office.
Claire disagreeing with him openly during foundation meetings.
The relationship between them had changed slowly enough that neither had named it.
That mattered.
Grant had spent most of his life in systems where relationships came with debt.
Protection bought loyalty.
Money bought silence.
Power bought proximity.
He did not want that with Claire.
One evening, after Lily was asleep, he finally said:
“If there were no job, no mansion, no foundation, and no money involved, would you still want me around?”
Claire looked at him for a long time.
“That is the least romantic question anyone has ever asked me.”
“It’s important.”
“I know.”
She moved closer.
“Yes.”
Grant exhaled.
Claire touched his hand.
“But I’m not moving into your mansion.”
He almost smiled.
“Why?”
“Too many stairs.”
May you like
That made him laugh.
And for once, nothing important was hidden underneath the laughter.
