When they moved to Gracemont, Ella decided the best plan was to just keep her mouth shut about her family, not mentioning her dad’s fanatical devoutness and strictness to anyone. The closest she’d ever come to sharing stuff about her homelife was with Maverick, but given she’d already hit him with an insane list—including no phone, no dating, and no extracurriculars—she was afraid that adding an abusive, misogynistic father was probably a hill too far.
Ella had spent most of the time she was with Maverick worried that he’d eventually decide her issues were too extra and break up with her. In the end, it was the “extra-ness” that forcedherto break up withhim.
As she looked at Edith, the older woman’s question about her nephews still lingering in the air, Ella was overwhelmed with the grief she’d been trying to deal with since losing Gigi.
“I haven’t seen them in six months,” she replied.
Gigi had been Ella’s primary sounding board, the one she turned to with all her problems, so being cut off from Mom and Martha during her grief, she’d been forced to hold in…God, fuckingeverything. Rather than deal with the loneliness and the pain, Ella had thrown herself into her writing, churning out two long-ass books because fiction was easier than real life.
“You haven’t?” Edith asked, surprised.
Ella wasn’t sure where the tears came from but within seconds, they erupted from her, and she had no chance of stopping them.
Edith reacted immediately, tugging Ella into her arms, giving her another of those tight, strong, amazingly comforting embraces. She didn’t say anything for the longest time, letting Ella cry out all the pain she’d locked away since Gigi’s passing, while slowly rocking her.
Ella didn’t have a clue how much time had passed, definitely several minutes, but eventually she managed to pull herself back together.
Edith released her slowly, studying her face closely. “I’d say that cry was long overdue.”
Ella nodded, allowing Edith to guide her to the couch. They sat down together as Edith reached for the box of tissues, offering them to her. Ella wiped her eyes and nose, too numb to feel mortified for falling apart.
“Want to tell me what was driving those tears?” Edith asked gently.
Ella didn’t doubt that she could brush off the question, apologize for her outburst, and Edith would allow her to escape to that beautiful green bedroom upstairs.
But she didn’t want to be alone anymore.
“Gigi died six months ago.”
“Gigi,” Edith said. “Your grandmother?”
Ella nodded.
“You were close.” Edith’s comment wasn’t a question, but Ella nodded again anyway.
“Very close. I’ve lived with her since graduating from high school.”
Edith looked slightly surprised by that, which probably made sense. After all, she was a thirty-two-year-old woman with a good-paying job. She could have moved into her own place years ago.
“I moved in with her after graduation, working as a waitress as I earned my associate’s degree from the community college. From there, I transferred to Boise State University because I could still live with Gigi for free. I’d gotten a lot of scholarships, but they didn’t pay for everything, so the free housing along with the waitressing helped me cover the rest. I got my degree in journalism.”
“I didn’t realize your degree was in journalism,” Edith mused.
“After college, I got a job at a local station as a copywriter, and for a time, I did talk about moving into my own place. But that idea sort of fell to the wayside because not long after, Gigi was diagnosed with Parkinson’s.”
Edith smiled. “You continued living with her so you could help care for her.”
“Yeah. I mean, the symptoms weren’t terrible at the beginning, but they got progressively worse over time. My granddad died of a heart attack at fifty-two, and Gigi, who’d never worked prior to that, started cleaning houses to pay the bills. She continued doing the job for quite a few years after the diagnosis, but it became harder with each passing year. So, eventually I encouraged her to give it up and I took on the responsibility of supporting the two of us.”
Edith patted Ella’s arm. “You were a good granddaughter.”
“I owed Gigi so much,” Ella said, but she didn’t expand on why because those were the stories she didn’t tell. “I miss her,” Ella added, her voice breaking slightly. She swallowed hard, beating back the new tears threatening to fall. “The house, these days…it’s so quiet and empty, and everywhere I look there are reminders of her. It’s felt suffocating at times.”
She didn’t add that she’d done her grieving alone, cut off from Mom and Martha, though she suspected Edith could figure that out, given the fact she’d just admitted to not seeing her nephews in six months.
Edith tilted her head. “You took this trip because you needed to get away.”
“I did,” Ella confirmed. “And I was right to do it. Despite that breakdown there,” she said, gesturing over her shoulder to where she’d just fallen apart, “I feel better here. The pressure on my chest is…lighter.”