The Summer I Learned to Dive - By Shannon McCrimmon Page 0,13

influenced yours,” she said and frowned.

“They didn’t. If I had known,” I started.

“Shh, it’s okay honey. I understand. I’m just glad you’re here now,” she said smiling at me. The tea kettle whistled and she stood up to take it off the stove. She poured it into a tea pot, adding two large tea bags and more than a cup of sugar.

“I would have written you or called you. I believed you didn’t want anything to do with me,” I said. I wiped the tears from my eyes. “Why didn’t you try calling me?” I asked looking at her desperately.

She frowned. “We did many times. But after several attempts, your mama changed her phone number to unlisted. The last time we talked to her was years ago and she told me in no uncertain terms to leave you alone.” She took a deep breath. “Course that didn’t stop us from sending you cards in the mail.”

*************

The phone rang. I ran to get the phone, hoping to answer it before my mom could.

“Hello,” I said, my voice high pitched and youthful.

“Finley,” the woman had said.

“Finn,” I corrected her with a subtle lisp, my two front baby teeth missing.

“Finn. It’s your Nana,” she had said.

“Nana?” I said confused.

She asked, “I’m your grandmother and love you very much. Are you having a good Christmas?”

“Yes,” I said and nodded, forgetting that she could not see me through the phone.

“Finn, who are you talking to?” my mother asked.

“Nana,” I answered.

“Give me that,” she said grabbing the phone from my hand.

“Don’t call us again,” she said before hanging up the phone.

********************

She handed me a rose-colored mug. I held the handle, it was still very hot. I placed the cup on the table and blew into it hoping to cool the tea. I took a sip. Nana had added evaporated milk which made it sweet and delicious almost like liquid candy.

“I don’t know why she didn’t want me to have anything to do with you and my grandfather.” It should have felt strange saying the word “grandfather,” but it seemed to come out naturally as if I had known them all of my life.

She took a deep breath and raised her eyebrows. “I am just glad you are here now.”

“Me, too,” I smiled, feeling a sense of peace, like I was at home.

We sat at the table talking for hours. I learned that my grandparents owned Lilly’s Diner. It was one of the few restaurants in town and the only one within miles, mostly frequented by locals and tourists driving on a country road for a weekend drive. I discovered that Nana and I shared a love for books and reading. Her library put mine to shame. She had her own room filled with bookshelves that were stacked with books that she had read over the years. I learned that I was named after my great-grandmother and that she was my dad’s favorite grandparent. He had named me after much debate with my mother who had wanted to call me Tallulah. Thankfully, my father won that argument. The years of separation didn’t impact my ability to converse so easily with her. I felt like I had known her my entire life.

“I don’t understand why my mother kept me from you,” I said shaking my head.

She placed her hand under my chin and rubbed it gently with her fingers. “Your mama didn’t handle things well once your dad was gone. There was a lot of hurt and blame and,” she sighed heavily, “unfortunately, she thought it best that we not be a part of your life—a decision your grandfather and I’ll never understand.” Her forehead creased, her facial expression thoughtful. “Fortunately,” she smiled at me, “you’re here now and we can get to know each other. Tell me more about you. I want to hear more about you, what you want and hope for,” she said nudging me, her voice encouraging.

I smiled at her and began talking, telling her about myself, so we could connect the sixteen years of separation.

It was later in the evening when my grandfather arrived. I was so exhausted from the day that I went to bed early before I had the chance to meet him. Once I went to bed, however, I couldn’t sleep. I was too wired from the day. I lay awake in my father’s bed in his old room. It felt strange lying there. I knew very little about him. My mother didn’t say much. From what I could see,