his hand slides two books across the floorboards.
“Are we sure this is still stable?” Grandma tests the weight where she’s sitting and picks up the books.
“I’m sorry, okay? I do love him, but he’s rushing me into moving in together and now marriage. We’ve only been together for, like, six months.” I pull my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them.
“This isn’t about you and Colton. This is about you and an irrational fear. You’d think I’d have it easy and all of you would be wounded in the same way after your parents died, but no, each of you are so different. You came out thinking that the more you need someone, the more likely they’ll be stripped away from you.”
“That’s not true,” I say.
She gives me her bored look. The one that says she’s the wise woman, listen to her. “Because you had Colton, I left you alone growing up. I didn’t pry too much because I naively thought you were open and honest with him about your struggles. That you told him your fears and worries. I see now I was wrong.” She points at me. “And you can put that in the books because I rarely admit when I’m wrong.”
I make a checkmark in the air.
She scowls. “It wasn’t until you came to my apartment all those months ago that I realized you were lost. That you didn’t have your head on your shoulders like I thought.”
“Is this supposed to be an uplifting conversation?”
“Let me get to my point.”
I hold up my hands, telling her to go ahead.
“Weeks later, you were closing your business. I thought that’s where your doubt in yourself came from. Because you kept asking if your mom would lie to make you feel like you belong. So I did some research.” She opens one of the books. There’s a tree with names on it. “I had both sides of your genealogy done, and to my surprise, your red hair comes from our side too.”
“Really? You did this?” I lean in to see the book better.
She shoos me with her hand because we both know it was probably Mr. Miller at Northern Lights who did this for her. He’s always asking me where my red hair came from. He says it’s rare and he loves to trace down recessive traits with his genealogy hobby.
“It turns out that Aunt Etta was a redhead but look at all these Baileys with red hair too. And then I thought I remembered something, and I searched back to find some pictures. Sure enough, your grandpa was born a redhead, although it turned blond soon after as he grew up.”
I pick up the book and look through the pages of all our ancestors. “You did all this to prove that my red hair is a Bailey trait too?” Tears well in my eyes.
“You’ve always been a Bailey. No other Bailey talks back to me the way you do. Who do you think you get that from? Yours truly.” She thumbs at herself.
I swipe my eyes.
“And I had a matchmaker on my side too. A few generations ago and I’m not sure who she ever matched, but Mr. Miller found it.” I laugh and she rolls her eyes because she slipped up by mentioning Mr. Miller.
“And the other book?” I ask, nodding toward it.
“Oh, well.” She looks around the treehouse. “I’m not sure it’s necessary after I see all these. Colton is one special guy.” She picks up the book and hands it to me.
I open the first page, and it’s filled with pictures of my siblings and me. There are none of my parents. There’s Austin and Savannah helping us other five look into the two cribs of Sedona and Phoenix. There’re more images of fights, huge fort builds, swimming in the lake, game nights, plays we put on.
“This is the best way I felt I could prove to you that you think you don’t rely on anyone, don’t let anyone get close in case you’ll get hurt, but that’s not true. You do.” Grandma flips a few pages and there’s more.
All of us at weddings, baby showers, new business openings. Rome there to give me that ridiculous matchmaking vehicle. Kingston there to help me move. Savannah cleaning the bathroom in my old office.
“They’re my family, of course I love them. And they have to love me no matter what.” I swipe another tear.
“Do they? Because up until five minutes ago, you thought you