Chapter 11

"Ah, James, my dear boy!" Grandfather exclaimed the moment James entered the cozy parlor of his sprawling estate. "You're here. Do take a seat."

James did as he was bid, taking a seat opposite his grandfather, who leaned forward with a gentle smile as he broached the subject with him. "I find myself in a bit of a conundrum and could use your assistance," he began, his voice, as always, carrying a hint of playful curiosity.

"What is it, Grandfather?" James inquired, eager to hear what task his grandfather had in mind this time.

His grandfather reached into his pocket, extracting something James couldn't see clearly yet. Then, his grandfather opened his palm, revealing a pocket watch. Its intricate design gleamed softly in the sunlight that streamed through the parlor window. Crafted from polished silver, its surface bore the marks of time, each scratch and imperfection telling a story of generations past.

The casing was adorned with ornate engravings, intricate patterns that danced across its surface like tendrils of ivy. In the center, a small crest was etched—a symbol of the family's lineage and heritage passed down through the ages.

"Now, I've always cherished this watch, but it seems to have fallen into a bit of disrepair," his grandfather explained with a soft tone of melancholy as his eyes sparkled with nostalgia. "I was hoping you might help me restore it to its former glory."

As James carefully examined the intricate details of the pocket watch in his own hands, he couldn't help but feel a swell of admiration for the craftsmanship that had gone into its creation. Turning to his grandfather, he smiled.

"It is truly a remarkable piece, Grandfather," he nodded. "I can see why it holds such a sentimental value for you."

His grandfather's eyes twinkled with pride as he nodded in agreement. "Indeed, my boy. This watch has been passed down through our family for generations. Each scratch, each mark tells a story of love, loss and triumph. It is a symbol of our resilience and strength as a family."

James nodded thoughtfully, feeling a deep sense of connection to his family's history as he continued to examine the watch. "I'm honored that you've asked me to help restore it," he said sincerely, his voice filled with determination. "I promise to do everything in my power to bring it back to its former glory."

His grandfather smiled warmly, his gaze filled with gratitude. "I have no doubt that you will, James. Your skill and dedication are commendable," he replied, his voice tinged with pride.

His grandfather was a man who managed to sneak in a joke or playful retort into any conversation, but there were a few rare occasions where he remained serious. This was one of them, and James appreciated it all the more.

"You know, your mother would have been so proud of the man you've become, God rest her sweet soul," his grandfather spoke, inhaling deeply, as if there was a heavy burden laid upon his chest that was preventing him from breathing properly.

"Would she?" James wondered. He tried to be a good man if for nothing else, for the memory of his mother and sister. He deeply felt their absence every single day, whether or not he mentioned it to his grandfather, and he knew that the old man felt the same way. It was impossible not to miss someone who brightened up their lives — someone who had been taken away from them so suddenly, in such a vicious manner.

"You know she would," his grandfather assured him. "She was always proud of everything you did. She always said, ‘That's my boy.'"

James felt a pang deep inside of him, the gaping hole of emptiness that would never be filled.

"Do you know what else she said?"

"What?" James asked, expecting the conversation to turn light. At least, he hoped it would for his voice was already on the verge of breaking as it was every time he allowed himself to think about those he loved the most, those who were not there any longer.

"She said that she couldn't wait to see you grow up and marry and have a family of your own," his grandfather added wistfully. "Ah, she would have been such a wonderful grandmother. Speaking of which…" He looked at James, who burst into a chuckle immediately upon that look.

"I haven't even been married a month, Grandfather," James rolled his eyes playfully at the man seated opposite him. "I cannot imagine that you are already contemplating the thought."

"Ah, stranger things have happened," his grandfather laughed with an innocent rising of his weary shoulders. "It takes but a single second. Well… let's hope not a second or even several seconds. It actually should take, maybe fifteen, twenty minutes to half an hour for a couple to properly?—"

"Grandfather!" James thundered amusedly, shaking his head in disbelief. "I will not have this conversation with you." No matter how much he tried, he couldn't stop laughing.

"What?" his grandfather shrugged helplessly. "These are facts, my boy. I am merely telling you things as they are. You know, your grandmother also had a saying."

"About how long it takes to make a child?" James said, burying his face into his hands because he couldn't stop laughing.

His grandfather halted, as if that wasn't what he wanted to say initially, but he then changed his mind and reverted back to that comment. "Actually, she did have something to say about that, too, but that's for another time. She used to say that a man's choice in wife speaks volumes about his character. Of course, she meant to say that I was a good man for choosing a good wife like her, again complimenting herself, but by Jove, your grandmother was worth complimenting!"

James chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "And what would she say about Penelope?" he asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

A fond smile spread across his grandfather's weathered face as he replied. His eyes sparkled with the wisdom of truth. "She would say that you've chosen well, my boy. Penelope is a rare gem. I have not spoken much to her, but from what I can tell, she is a woman of grace, intelligence, and unwavering kindness. You may not see it now, but she complements you in every way."

"She does?" James wondered, lifting an eyebrow.

"Without a doubt," his grandfather was adamant as he continued, his voice soft with nostalgia as he reminisced about his own courtship with James' grandmother. "You know, James, finding the right partner is one of life's greatest blessings. Your grandmother was my rock, my confidante, my closest companion in every situation that life threw at us."

James listened intently, captivated by his grandfather's story. "But that is different, Grandfather. You chose Grandmother. I didn't choose Penelope. It just… happened."

His grandfather's lips flickered into a smile. "But you were supposed to marry the other one, no?"

"Yes," James nodded, remembering Vanessa just by name. But in reality, she was a nobody, especially now that Penelope was by his side.

"You cannot tell me that isn't fate," his grandfather assured him.

"You know I don't believe in fate," James frowned.

"Ah, but my boy, fate believes in you," Grandfather pointed out. "And fate knows it takes patience, understanding, and a good deal of compromise. But most importantly, a good marriage takes love… deep, unwavering love that stands the test of time."

James sighed. "I don't know, Grandfather. None of this started in love."

"But it can end in love," the man spoke wisely. "Do not close yourself off to that possibility."

James wondered if he even remembered how to love someone. The concept was as foreign to him as the African continent. He knew little of it but not enough. And now, he had a sweet, young lady under his roof who knew what her purpose was there. It all resembled a business transaction; it was an arranged marriage. How could love ever come from something like that?

"I'm not, Grandfather," he said tenderly. "I just… I don't want to get my hopes up. I need to be rational, like I've been all my life. I do not trust anyone but you because no one knows me. They don't know the depth of sorrow that looms inside of me, and they can never understand what happened to us that night."

His grandfather looked at him sorrowfully. "I should have been there, James. I… I am so sorry."

"No, no, Grandfather," James shook his head hastily. "It wasn't your fault. It took me a long time to realize that it wasn't my fault either. It was his."

James felt his teeth grit against each other. His entire body tensed at the memory of his father. He refused to allow that man to occupy a single thought in his mind or a single emotion in his heart, even if it was hatred. The man deserved to be forgotten, completely erased from the memory of those who knew him.

"You know that the best revenge is a life well lived, my boy," his grandfather said lovingly, getting up and placing his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently.

That much was true, but James feared that he didn't deserve to live a good life. He kept blaming himself for being the only one to survive that fateful night. A million questions swarmed inside his mind even now. Why him? Why was he the only one to survive? Why couldn't it have been his mother, his sister? They were equally deserving of survival. He would have gladly given his life for theirs, but that was impossible. He was wracked by guilt which was preventing him from living the sort of life his grandfather thought he deserved.

James got up, nodding. "Well, I'd better get on with my work, Grandfather. I have some correspondence to take care of."

"Of course," his grandfather replied although both men knew what the real reason for cutting their conversation short was. They had spoken about this so many times before, but it never became any easier. James feared it would be like that for the rest of his life, and he had simply come to terms with it.

"I'll be in my study if you need me," James said, lingering for a moment in the doorway then he left the parlor and headed to his study.

That was the only place where he could be alone with his thoughts, and now, they troubled him even more than usual.