“Nana?”
Jude looked up and saw her granddaughter standing by the bed. In her pink terrycloth sweats, with her curly blond hair a mass of tangles, she looked exactly like Mia at that age, and it disoriented Jude just a little. For the first time in years, Mia felt close enough to touch. The diary had brought her back to Jude.
Grace burst into tears. “M-my m-mommy left.”
Love Grace better. She needs you.
Jude got out of bed and scooped Grace into her arms. “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered, and then suddenly Jude was crying, too. She clung to Grace, crying against the child’s soft, plump cheek, smelling the sweet baby shampoo scent of her hair, remembering …
“I tole her I wanted to st-stay with Daddy,” Grace said sobbing. “An I do wanna be with Daddy, but … but I want my mommy, too. I shoulda told her that.”
“Oh, Grace.” Jude looked at her granddaughter through a blur of tears. In the soft focus, she saw not only Grace, but Zach and Mia, too. And the Lexi who had been a part of them. They were all in Grace’s face, in her eyes, in the pink bow of her mouth. How had Jude forgotten that?
No, she hadn’t forgotten it. She’d known it all along; she’d looked away from it purposely, afraid that the pain would kill her. But not feeling had taken away her joy, too, left her in that gray haze of numbness.
In a way, they were all together again in this moment, embraced in one another’s arms just as they would have been if Mia were alive.
She carried Grace up onto Mia’s big bed and snuggled with her there.
Grace slowly opened her small fist. Resting on her palm lay the promise ring Zach had given Lexi. “Look what Mommy gave me.”
Jude picked up the fragile ring. This was what she’d been so upset by all those years ago, a little circle of white gold with a sapphire chip; she’d thought a ring like this could derail a young man’s life. “He was so romantic,” she sighed.
Grace popped her thumb in her mouth and mumbled, “Who?” around it.
“Your daddy. I should have known that Miles and I would raise a romantic.”
Why hadn’t she rejoiced that her son knew how to love deeply? And to dream of the future. Why was it that pebbles looked like boulders until they were in your rearview mirror? “He gave your mommy that ring for Christmas.”
Jude unhooked the slim gold chain necklace she wore. Letting the diamond enhancer fall into her lap, she took the ring from Grace and threaded the chain through it and then clasped the necklace on Grace. “You look like a princess,” Jude said, kissing her granddaughter’s cheek. And once she’d begun kissing Grace, she couldn’t stop. She kissed and nuzzled and snuggled until Gracie cried out for mercy, yelling stop it, Nana—that tickles! and giggling.
Finally Jude drew back and looked at Grace. “I love you. I should have told you that a million times a day.”
“That’s a lot of times.” Grace giggled again and covered her mouth.
“Don’t try to quiet your laughter, Gracie. It’s a beautiful sound.”
“That’s what my mommy said.”
Mommy.
How was it that an ordinary word, one she’d heard all of her life, could suddenly be so sharp? You used to be the best mother in the world.
Regret was all around Jude; she felt choked by it, but then she looked down at the girl in her arms, and she could breathe again. The regret melted slowly away, was replaced by a fragile shoot of hope. “Your mom has a heart as big as Alaska. I forgot that. And she made my Mia—and your dad—happy.”
“What’s that?” Grace asked, pointing at the book in Jude’s other hand.
She hadn’t even realized she was still holding it. “It’s your Aunt Mia’s diary.”
“You aren’t ’posed to read stuff like that. Hannah Montana says—”
“It’s okay.”