At that moment, Harper appeared in the hallway with her backpack in her hands. She looked startled to hear her father’s last words.
“Daddy,” she called out uncertainly.
Austin turned around sharply. “Harper, pack up. We’re leaving.”
“I’m already packed,” she replied quietly, giving me a worried look.
I walked over to my granddaughter and hugged her. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie,” I whispered. “Remember that I love you, and you can always count on me.”
“I love you too, Grandma.” She hugged me back tightly.
Austin grabbed Harper’s hand. “Come on, we have to go.”
“Austin,” I stopped him. “You’re mad at me, and that’s understandable, but don’t take it out on Harper. It’s not her fault.”
He looked at me with a long stare that was a mixture of anger, resentment, and something else I couldn’t quite make out.
“Goodbye, Mom,” he said finally. “Enjoy your new life in Florida.”
And they left.
I stood at the window watching Austin put Harper in the car and drive away without even looking back. Only Harper waved at me from the car window.
I was alone in the empty house listening to the sound of the rain. Strangely, I felt no despair or regret—just a quiet sadness and a strange relief. It was as if I’d shed a heavy weight I’d been carrying for years.
The next two weeks flew by in a hectic pace of packing and preparing for the move. I met with a lawyer, finalized the paperwork for Harper’s education account. I signed the papers to sell the house in New Orleans. I decided that a new life required a complete break with the past. I picked out the things I would take with me. I gave the rest to charity or sold them.
I hadn’t heard from Austin. Harper hadn’t called either, though I’d sent her a few messages assuring her that I loved her and would always be there for her despite the distance. Laurel helped me with the move, giving me moral support. She promised to come visit me in Florida in a couple of months when I was settled in.
“You’re doing the right thing, Abby,” she said. “Finally living for yourself instead of your ungrateful son.”
The day I left, I walked around the house one last time, saying goodbye to every room, every corner that held memories of life with Raymond, of Austin’s childhood, of the happy years of our family. It was sad, but not as painful as I’d expected. It was as if I had already let go of the past, ready for a new phase.
Just before I left, the doorbell rang. I opened it and was surprised to find Harper on the doorstep.
“Sweetie.” I hugged her. “How did you get here?”
“My mom brought me.” Harper nodded at the car by the curb where Payton was sitting. “She said I had to say goodbye to you.”
I threw a surprised look at my daughter‑in‑law. She nodded at me from the car—not smiling, but not hostile either. Perhaps there was more humanity in her than I’d realized.
“I’ll miss you, Grandma.” Harper hugged me, and I could feel her tears on my blouse.
“Me too, sweetheart,” I said, stroking her head. “But we’ll talk on video, and you can come visit me on vacations if your parents let you.”
“Dad forbade me to even mention you,” she whispered. “But Mom said it was stupid. They fought about it.”
I was even more surprised. Was Payton really taking my side? That was unexpected.
“It’s going to be okay, Harper.” I took her face in my hands. “Give Daddy time to cool off. He’s mad right now, but it’ll pass.”
We hugged again, and Harper ran to the car. Payton gave me another nod, and they drove away. I watched them go, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope.
An hour later, I got in my car and headed off to my new life. The drive to Florida took about eight hours. I drove leisurely, stopping at interesting places, enjoying the freedom and solitude. Sarasota greeted me with bright sunshine and a warm breeze off the bay. My new home, a one‑story house with white walls and blue shutters, stood in a quiet neighborhood near the water. It was small but cozy, with a patio overlooking the bay and a garden of palm trees and flowering shrubs.
I unpacked the essentials and stepped out onto the patio with a glass of wine, watching the sun set into the waters of the bay. For the first time in a long time, I felt peace and tranquility. There was no guilt, no worry about money, no fear of another demand from Austin. Just me, the sunset, and a new chapter of my life.
Six months later, the April Florida sun was flooding my garden with light as I planted new flowers. During my six months in Sarasota, I had grown to love gardening. I had never had time for this hobby before. Life in Florida turned out to be exactly what I had dreamed of—quiet, measured, but not boring. I made new friends at a local gardening club and at a charitable organization where I volunteered twice a week. I helped disadvantaged children with math lessons and basic financial literacy.
The connection with Harper never broke, despite Austin’s threats. Payton, to my surprise, secretly kept us in touch. Once a week, we would video call, and my granddaughter would talk about her life, her school, her friends. Sometimes Payton participated in these conversations, becoming friendlier each time.
I hadn’t heard from Austin. I knew through Harper that his event management business was barely afloat. Without my financial support, he had to tighten his belt, sell the boat, and even take out a loan from the bank. Perhaps it would do him good to learn the value of money and work. I didn’t hold a grudge against him—just regret that I couldn’t raise him better, teach him responsibility and gratitude. But, like Laurel said, you can’t blame yourself for a grown man’s choices.
Today was a special day—the beginning of spring break—and Harper was coming to visit me for a week. Payton had convinced Austin to allow the trip, saying she was going to a spa hotel with her friends and he had to work. He reluctantly agreed, not knowing that his daughter was coming to see me.
I heard the sound of a cab pulling up and hurried to the front door. Standing in the driveway was Harper with a small suitcase, smiling wide.
“Grandma!” She rushed to me, and I hugged her, feeling how much she had grown in those six months.
“My darling.” I held her tightly against me. “I missed you so much.”
We went into the house, and I showed her the room I had prepared especially for her, overlooking the bay, with shelves for books and a small desk by the window.
“It’s so beautiful here,” Harper marveled, looking out the window. “Look—dolphins!”
I walked over to her, putting my arm around her shoulders. There were indeed dolphins frolicking in the bay, jumping out of the water and diving back in.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“Very much.” She turned to me. “You know, Grandma, Daddy told Mommy he wants to make up with you. I overheard them talking.”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”
“Yes.” Harper nodded. “He said he was wrong and that he missed you, but his pride wouldn’t let him call first.”
I smiled. Maybe it wasn’t too late to have a relationship with my son. Not the same as before—I wasn’t going back to being an ATM—but perhaps a healthier one based on mutual respect. Time would tell.
In the meantime, I had a week with my beloved granddaughter, a new home, new friends, and, most importantly, a new sense of freedom and self‑respect. I was finally living for myself, not for others.
See more on the next page
Advertisement
