G is for Grandparents

[mybooktable book=”cracks-in-sidewalk”]

G is for Grandparents

The moment I saw those words, my heart began pounding and I could feel myself collapsing under my own weight. I grabbed onto the arm of Charlie’s old recliner and lowered myself into the seat. After all the years of waiting, there was no time to cry, so I continued reading even though it was through a waterfall of tears. ‘Recently, I came across some information which leads me to believe that Elizabeth Caruthers, my birth mother, was your daughter. My mother passed away in 1986, and her maiden name was McDermott. Other than this, I have very few details. I’m contacting you in the hope of finding my grandparents. I am anxious to learn more about my mother’s life and the mystery surrounding her death. If we are in fact related, would you be willing to meet with me?’

With my fingers locked onto that letter, I closed my eyes and whispered, “Thank you, Lord.” I had long ago given up praying for such a thing to happen. I’d allowed myself to settle into believing it simply wasn’t part of God’s plan for my life. Now, here it was— the miracle I’d been asking for.

‘My name is Christian Caruthers,’ the letter went on, ‘I live in Doylestown, Pennsylvania. My older brother David is married and we have a sister named Kimberly…’

He asked if I would be willing to see him! Imagine that, willing to see him? Why, for the past twenty years, I’ve wanted nothing more. There were days, weeks, months on end, when I’d do nothing but wonder what he’d grown to look like. Two decades back, I spied a blue-eyed child at a playground in Westfield and convinced myself he was my Christian. I rushed over and asked the boy his name, but even before he spoke I could tell by the turn of his nose what the answer would be. Willing to see him? Why, I’d go to my grave a happy woman if I could have the chance to hug those children to my chest and tell them how much I love them.  

Without a minute’s hesitation, I sat down at Charlie’s old desk and scratched out an answer to the boy’s letter. ‘Elizabeth most certainly was my daughter,’ I wrote, ‘and I was right there alongside of her the day she gave birth to you.’ I went on to say nothing in the entire world would give me greater pleasure than a visit from him, David and Kimberly. I wanted to say Kimmie, which was what her mother called her, but, since Christian had referred to her as Kimberly, I was reluctant to say anything that might change his mind about coming for a visit. I signed the letter ‘Your Loving Grandma, Claire McDermott.’ I wrote my telephone number big and bold, the way people are inclined to do as they get on in years. Once that letter disappeared into the mailbox, I began waiting. 

About the author

Bette Lee Crosby

USA Today Bestselling and Award-winning novelist Bette Lee Crosby's books are "Well-crafted storytelling populated by memorable characters caught up in equally memorable circumstances." - Midwest Book Review The Seattle Post Intelligencer says Crosby's writing is, "A quirky mix of Southern flair, serious thoughts about important things in life and madcap adventures." Samantha from Reader's Favorite raves, "Crosby writes the type of book you can't stop thinking about long after you put it down." "Storytelling is in my blood," Crosby laughingly admits, "My mom was not a writer, but she was a captivating storyteller, so I find myself using bits and pieces of her voice in most everything I write." It is the wit and wisdom of that Southern Mama Crosby brings to her works of fiction; the result is a delightful blend of humor, mystery and romance along with a cast of quirky charters who will steal your heart away. Her work was first recognized in 2006 when she received The National League of American Pen Women Award for a then unpublished manuscript. She has since gone on to win nineteen awards for her work; these include: TheRoyal Palm Literary Award, the FPA President's Book Award Gold Medal, Reader's Favorite Award Gold Medal, and the Reviewer's Choice Award.

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