Chapter 23

Three weeks later, Harper sat beside her granddad on a park bench, feeding the ducks. Rex, Steve's little dog, was sitting on her granddad's knees, enjoying the spectacle in front of them.

If it weren't for Steve needing to find someone to look after Rex for an entire day, Harper would never have brought him to Polson. Their excursion to her granddad's rehabilitation center was a resounding success, and she'd repeated it twice a week for the last few weeks.

"It's just as well we tied Rex's leash to your wheelchair, Granddad. Otherwise, he'd be scaring all the ducks away."

Benjamin's hand lifted awkwardly as he patted Rex's back. "Good dog," he managed to say with a twinkle in his eyes.

Harper laughed. "Rex loves coming to visit you. He thinks he's the king of the world when he's sitting on your lap."

As if he understood what she was saying, Rex leaned against her granddad's chest. When his little mouth turned into what looked like a smile, she laughed. "He won't want to go home."

Her granddad wiped the dribble off the side of his mouth. "Stay with me."

Harper shook her head. "You'll get me into trouble. Steve won't be impressed if we kidnap Rex, but I know what you mean. He's adorable."

Breaking a piece of bread into little pieces, she threw it at the ducks. Harper was still surprised by the difference Rex had made in her granddad's recovery. As far as Benjamin and his little buddy were concerned, it was love at first sight. Rex always sat quietly when he was with her granddad, and the closer the better.

Rex didn't mind Granddad's careful attempts to pat him, or the way he'd occasionally knock him if his muscles weren't doing what they were supposed to do. Since she'd started bringing Rex to Polson, the physical therapist had noticed a big improvement in her granddad's motivation, and even the speech therapist saw how much impact Rex was having—especially when her granddad introduced him to the other residents at the center.

For Harper and her mom, that was the biggest reward. Benjamin was making friends, forming his own support network with people who understood what he was going through.

The visits with Rex were so successful that the rehabilitation center was putting a program together that included regular visits from small dogs like Rex.

Her granddad touched her arm. "Read the letter," he said as his eyes flicked toward the pocket where she'd left it.

Harper didn't know what it contained, but her granddad made sure the nurse gave it to her before they'd left the center. After she opened the envelope, Harper's eyes widened. "This is a long letter. It must have taken ages to tell the nurse what to write."

Benjamin looked solemnly at her and nodded.

"Okay, Granddad. Here goes." Harper cleared her throat.

"My dearest Harper,

As I dictate this letter to you through the kind help of a nurse, my heart is both heavy and light. Heavy, because time is slipping away from me, but lightened by the love and pride I feel when I think of you."

Harper's eyes filled with tears. "That's so sweet. I love you, too, Granddad."

With his eyes full of emotion, Benjamin pointed to the letter.

She smiled at his determination. After wiping her eyes, she read the next paragraph.

"You've grown into a remarkable woman, Harper. You are strong and compassionate, living your life with the very best qualities we could hope for. As I've watched you overcome the challenges life has thrown your way, my pride in you has only deepened."

Harper rummaged in her pockets for a tissue. "You're making me cry even harder now, Granddad," she whispered.

"My shining light," Benjamin said slowly.

She blew her nose and kissed her granddad's cheek. Goodness knows how she'd get through the rest of the letter, but she'd do her best. Running her finger over the text, she found where she was up to.

"I want to extend an offer to you, one that I hope will help you as much as it eases my mind."

Harper looked at her granddad and frowned. "I don't understand."

"Keep reading," Benjamin told her.

When Harper saw the next words, she had to pause to stop herself from trembling.

"My darling girl, I want you to become the owner of my house. It's a place that's protected our family, witnessed our joys, and sheltered us as we've grieved in sorrow.

Instead of selling the house for its market value, I want you to purchase it from me for just enough to cover my care in Polson. With the extra savings I have, it should take away any financial burden for your mom and give you a home without a large mortgage."

Harper looked at her granddad. "I appreciate what you're doing but, if anyone should buy your house, it's Mom."

Benjamin looked pointedly at the letter.

She sighed and continued reading.

"I'm getting older, sweetheart. I want to be around for many years to come, but the reality means I must plan for a time when I'm not here. The house is more than a wooden structure; it's a legacy of our family's history and my unwavering belief in your future.

Take your time to consider this offer. I've made sure your mom is taken care of in my Will, but discuss it with her, with Owen, and with those who hold your well-being in high regard. Whatever decision you make will be the right one, because it'll be made with the love and the strength that are the very essence of who you are.

I'm here for you, for as long as I can be, with all the love I have.

Your loving Granddad, Benjamin."

Harper threw her arms around her granddad. Rex let out a soft whimper and she pulled back, worried she'd squashed him. "Oh, Granddad. That was a lovely letter and a generous offer."

With tears in his eyes, Benjamin held his hand over his heart. "You make me proud."

His softly spoken words touched Harper deeply. Instead of saying anything, she took a handful of clean tissues out of her pocket and helped her granddad blow his nose. "I'll think about the house," she told him.

Benjamin looked into her eyes. "Don't be afraid."

"I won't," she told him. And she meant it, but the decision wasn't hers to make alone. She needed to talk to her mom and make sure she was happy with what was in the letter. If she wasn't, they'd find another way to give her granddad what he wanted.

Harper folded the sheet of paper and slid it back into the envelope. If that meant she'd be renting a house somewhere else in Sapphire Bay, that was fine by her.

Owen kneeledon the wooden floor beside Harper, folding an old quilt her grandmother had made. The air inside the attic was thick with dust motes and nostalgia, and each item they packed away told amazing stories of the past.

After a lot of discussion, Carrie had told Harper she should accept Benjamin's gift of his home. She'd argued it would make Harper's granddad happy, and that's all she'd ever wanted.

"Where would you like the quilt?" Owen asked Harper.

She pointed to four large boxes opposite the stairs. "In the box labeled ‘Family Heirlooms'. If there isn't enough room, you could start a new one."

They'd been steadily working their way through the house. Every room was a trove of memories, every drawer held secrets waiting to be rediscovered. As Owen carefully placed the quilt into the box, he thought of the person who'd stitched it many years ago.

"Look at this," Harper said, her voice a hushed blend of surprise and reverence. She held up a black-and-white photograph of a young couple. "It's my grandparents on their wedding day. They look so happy and full of hope." Tears brimmed in her eyes as she traced the outline of her grandmother's face.

Owen stood and moved closer, wrapping an arm around her. "They look so in love," he said, peering over her shoulder at the photograph.

"They were," Harper replied, her voice steady despite the tears. "They had such a beautiful life together." Carefully, she added the photo to others they'd found and moved to the next box of family mementos.

As they sorted through trunks of old clothes and boxes of forgotten toys, they found other photos, letters tied with ribbons, vacation postcards, and her great-grandfather's war medals. Each item was a piece of the puzzle that was Harper's heritage.

"I didn't know Granddad kept all these," Harper murmured, holding a medal to the light. "He never talks about what his dad did during the war."

Owen looked at the heavy medal. "People keep memories tucked away for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes they're just too painful to bring out into the open."

They continued working in silence, sorting through more pieces of her grandparent's life. Owen found it grounding. It connected him to Harper, to her family's history, and deepened the bond that had formed between them.

Carrie, who'd been working in another part of the house, joined them in the attic. "I found these in the back of the linen closet," she said, showing them a small box. "They were gifts your father gave me, Harper. I think it's time they were out in the world again, not hidden away."

The box contained simple pieces of jewelry. A locket, a bracelet with pretty charms, and a pair of delicate earrings. Harper held each piece with a tender curiosity. "Why were they in the linen closet?"

Carrie took a deep breath, her gaze lingering on the items with a mixture of fondness and regret. "After your father and I separated, it felt wrong to wear them," she explained, her voice betraying her bittersweet memories. "They represented a time that was filled with dreams of what we thought our life together would be. When things fell apart, the jewelry became a reminder of what we lost."

She ran her fingers over the locket, its surface dulled by time. "I couldn't bear to get rid of them, but I also couldn't keep them close. So, I gave them to your nana to look after, hoping that one day, I'd want to wear them again."

Harper looked up at her mother. "And you think it's time now?"

Carrie shook her head. "Not for me. Would you like them? Or maybe, when you're ready, you could pass them on to someone special."

Harper picked up the locket, her thumb brushing over the engraving. "I think I'll wear them. They're beautiful."

The decision seemed to lift a weight from Carrie's shoulders. When she smiled, there was gratitude and perhaps a hint of an apology for what her divorce had meant for her daughter.

After Harper fastened the locket around her neck, she touched her mom's arm. "Would you mind if I looked for Dad again?"

Carrie didn't seem surprised by the question. "We couldn't find him the last time we looked."

"There are a lot more databases now. Dad couldn't have fallen off the face of the earth. He has to be somewhere."

Owen cleared his throat. "I could help. We regularly had to find missing people in Detroit. Most of the resources we used can be accessed by the public—you just have to know where to look."

Harper looked expectantly at her mom. "What do you think?"

Carrie hugged her daughter. "I think you should follow your heart. If that means we look for your dad again, then that's fine by me."

As they moved to the last area of the attic, Owen told Harper and her mom about some of the databases he'd used, the missing people they'd reunited with their family and friends.

While he was answering their questions, he realized how much he'd achieved. How many people's lives he'd made better simply by doing his job.

And, for the first time in a long while, he was proud of what he'd done.