We leave for college tomorrow, so we won’t have a honeymoon. But I’m completely okay with that because we’ll be moving into the apartment we got together. Yep, my grin just grew bigger. I’m going to be living with Lincoln! I can’t believe it! It sounds silly, but we get to play house. For real house, not like when we were younger and played in the fort Lincoln’s dad made for us.
Last week we went shopping for all of the things we’d need for the apartment. I got these super cute hand towels for the kitchen, a beautiful comforter and sheet set, and some huge fluffy towels. Lincoln’s parents spent a ton on kitchen items. Mom and Dad got us a bed with a beautiful headboard with matching dresser and chest of drawers. I laughed when I saw the look on Dad’s face when they presented us with the gift. I’m sure he was avoiding the image of Lincoln and I using the bed. It’s still hard to believe that I’ll get to sleep in the same bed with him every night and not have to worry about one of our parents walking in.
Did I mention yet that I’m getting married today? Mrs. Bradshaw. Molly Isabelle Bradshaw. That’s going to be my new name from this day forward. I’ve been saying that name in my head for so long that it doesn’t even sound weird to say it out loud. It’s going to be so hard to walk down that aisle toward him. Not because I’ve got cold feet. Nope. I know as soon as I see him up there with the officiant, I’m going to want to run toward him.
I grin as I close the journal, my heart feeling incredibly full after reading Molly’s recollection of our wedding day. I remember that day in vivid detail, including the impatient need to make her my wife, which almost had me running down the aisle toward her. I never knew her thoughts mirrored mine.
“Happy Anniversary, Molly.”
I knew what today was, but I had no clue the entry I chose to read was the one of our wedding day until I opened her journal this morning. I found it quite fitting.
“You were so beautiful that day,” I tell Molly. “You literally stole my breath.”
I lean my head against the headstone and stare up at the blue sky.
“If there was one day I could relive over and over again, it would be our wedding day. You say you almost ran toward me, but you don’t know I almost did the same. It was only Owen’s hand on my shoulder that kept my feet from moving. It felt like it took you an hour to reach me, but when you did, it was all I could do to not fall at my knees in front of you. Marrying you was the best day of my life, and I would do it a thousand more times if I could.”
Hearing feet shuffling has my head lifting, and I look over to where my car is parked. I smile when I see Gemma and Gray walking toward me. Gray’s holding the hand of his six-year-old son, Maverick, while in his other arm, he carries his beautiful eight-month-old daughter, Morgan. Gemma’s daughter, Izzy, is waddling slowly beside her. She only started walking six months ago, so she’s still getting used to her walking legs.
“Granddude!” Mav yells, tugging his hand away from Gray and running toward me. He looks a lot like his mother, Andrea, but he’s got his dad’s dark hair and gray eyes.
Laughing, I get to my feet but bend down just as he reaches me and scoop him up. “How’s my little dude today?”
“Good,” he says, kicking his legs by my hips. “Momma and Daddy are taking me to the water park today.”
“They are, huh? You better make sure you bring your arm swimmies.”
His head slides from right to left. “I don’t need them anymore. I can swim all by myself now.”
“Wow! That must mean you’re a big boy.”
He bobs his head. “Yup!”
With a kiss to the top of his head, I set him down just as Gray and Gemma approach. I kiss Gemma on the cheek and clap hands with Gray before I pick Izzy up first. I hold my other arm out for Morgan. “Gimme my girls.”
“Grandoot,” Izzy says, grinning so big the whites of the few teeth she has shows.
I chuckle at the name. Gray got Maverick started on calling me granddude after claiming he didn’t want his kids using the typical grandpa name. He and Andrea went online to search for alternate words for grandfathers and came across granddude.
I snuggle my face into Morgan’s neck and blow a raspberry. Her giggles fill my ears. I do the same to little Izzy, getting the same results.
When Gemma first came to me and told me her and Garrett, her husband, wanted to give their daughter Molly’s middle name, I was speechless. Not because I didn’t want them to, but because the gesture meant so much to me I couldn’t form words. I love their choice, and I know Molly would have been tickled pink.
“Sorry we’re late,” Gray says, plucking Morgan from my arms when she begins to wiggle to be put down. “I found Gemma on the side of the road with a flat tire.”
“It just blew when he found me. I didn’t even have time to call Garrett. I think I ran over something. And before you ask, Izzy and I were fine. All those lessons on keeping both hands on the wheel when you were teaching me how to drive came in handy.”
“Told you it would.” I toss her a wink.
She laughs lightly as she walks over to Molly’s headstone. Running her fingers over the top softly, she whispers, “Hey, Momma.” She turns back to me. “Did we miss it?”
“Yes.” I hand her the journal.
She grabs it and opens it to the spot I marked. I know Gray enjoys hearing Molly’s voice through her words, but Gemma lives by them. She once told me that in a way it keeps her mother alive.
She wears a soft expression as she reads over the entry. Morgan’s on the ground crawling toward the fresh dahlias. Before she can grab a handful of them with her fist, I pluck one out of the vase and pick her up. She squeals in excitement and shoves it into her face after I hand it to her.
Molly would have fallen instantly in love the first moment she laid eyes on Morgan with her green eyes and red hair. She would have fallen in love with all of our grandchildren.
“How’s the DeWrite job going?” I ask Gray, closely watching Morgan in case she decides to eat the flower.
“Pretty good, actually. John’s coming in next week to check out one of the pieces I’ve finished already.”
“The auction is in a month, right?”
After Gray graduated college, he came to me with the hopes of stepping on board with Bradshaw Designs. There was never any question on whether I wanted him to work with me. It took him a little while to catch his niche, but once he really started focusing, he became damn good. So much so, a couple of years ago, I informed him I was signing over half of the company to him. A year after that, I stepped down and let him control the reins. I still come in on bigger jobs when he needs the help, and I’m around for the administrative side, but I’ve let him take over the hands-on work.
John DeWrite, a long-time client, contacted Gray several weeks ago about a charity auction he’s holding to help raise funds for afterschool programs for low-income families. We’re donating several pieces to be auctioned off.
“Let me know if you need help with the others.”
“I was thinking,” he says, turning so he can keep Mav in his sights as he starts exploring the cemetery. “Why don’t you do one of the pieces yourself? Bradshaw Designs is what it is today because of you, and that’s the reason why John asked us to donate. One of them should have your signature on it.”