Free The Valentine Grinch by Sheila Seabrook Page A

health
was better than the average fifty-year-old.”
    Dora sank down on the chair beside her mother-in-law
and put one arm around her narrow shoulders. “He’ll be okay,
Elvira. Isn’t that right, Tom?”
    Tom slid onto the chair on the other side and linked
hands with his wife around his mother’s shoulders. “Morty is
strong, Ma. Have faith.”
    Dane crouched down in front of Elvira and took both
her hands in his. “Grandpa loves you and he won’t go without a
fight.”
    Grandma cupped his face between her hands and her
tear-filled eyes gazed at him with earnest. “You’re right. Your
grandfather wouldn’t want me to give up hope. Would you do me a
favor, Dane?”
    “Anything.”
    “When he wakes up, I’d like his room to be filled
with red roses and heart shaped balloons. Could you arrange that
for me?”
    “You bet.” He leaned forward and kissed the top of
each of her frail hands before he pushed to his feet and faced
Amanda. His mouth was set in a taut, unsmiling line and as he
passed her, he quietly said, “If there’s any news, come get
me.”
    He pulled his cell out of his jacket pocket and
wandered to the window, where he spoke quietly into the phone.
    Grandpa George floated up and down, an aggrieved
expression tugging at his face. “Tell her, bumpkin. Morty isn’t
coming to the other side, not yet.”
    Elvira pressed her face into her hands and burst
into tears.
    Grandpa gave Amanda a shove and she stumbled
forward, nearly dropping the urn. “He’s going to live, bumpkin.
Tell your grandma I said the wily old bastard is going to live many
more years to make her life — and mine — miserable.”
    Over Grandma’s bowed head, Amanda’s mom and dad were
staring at each other, their gazes filled with a mixture of love
and regret. Without a single word uttered between them, they’d
forgiven each other for the little tiff in the restaurant.
    “Tell her, bumpkin, about how you can see me. Tell
her I still love her. I’m so sorry I took her love for granted.”
Grandpa gave her another shove. She gasped and staggered forward
another few inches, drawing her grandma’s attention.
    “Amanda, what’s wrong with you, girl?”
    “Nothing, Grandma.”
    Grandpa glided to her side and poked her in the
back. “While you’re at it, you should tell Morty’s grandson how you
feel about him.”
    “Oh, no, I couldn’t.”
    “Don’t be afraid to use the L word. People need to
know when they’re loved.”
    Her grandma’s sharp voice filled the room. “Who are
you talking to, girl?”
    Amanda handed her dad the urn, knelt down in front
of Grandma, and took her hands. “Grandpa’s here.”
    Grandma wrenched her hands away. “Don’t talk
nonsense.”
    “Remember how you’ve been smelling Grandpa’s
aftershave lately?” At her grandma’s nod, Amanda recaptured her
hands. Tears stung her eyes. “He’s here and he wants me to tell you
Morty is going to be fine.”
    Grandma gave a sob and clung harder to Amanda’s
hands.
    “He says he still loves you and he’s sorry for
taking your love for granted.”
    “But how can you—” Elvira peered past Amanda,
searching the room with her gaze.
    “I don’t know, Grandma. He’s here. And he wishes you
and Morty many years of happiness.”
    Grandpa howled. “That’s not what I said.”
    Amanda ignored her grandpa, and as she felt Dane
come to stand behind her and place one hand on her shoulder, she
focused on her grandma. “I don’t know how much longer he’ll be
here, but he can hear you, Grandma. Is there anything you want to
tell him?”
    Grandma squinted into the space around Amanda.
“George, can you really hear me? Give me a sign.”
    “I’m here, baby,” Grandpa crooned.
    Amanda choked. “You call
her baby ?”
    “Oh George, it’s really you,” Grandma sobbed, one
hand covering her mouth so her words came out mumbled. “I love you,
my dearest darling. After you left me, I was lonely for so very
long. And then Morty made me love