“Probably not.”
He looked confused.
“Then why did you bring them?”
I sat across from him.
“Because I still want you to understand something.”
“What?”
“You don’t need paperwork to belong at our table.”
His eyes filled immediately.
“But…”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I reached across the table.
This time, I took his hand.
“You were late.”
He nodded.
“Very late.”
“Embarrassingly late.”
He laughed through his tears.
“But you’re here.”
Walter squeezed my hand.
“I am.”
“And we’re going to have a lot of things to talk about.”
“I know.”
“And I’m probably going to be angry again.”
“I expect that.”
“And you’re going to have to answer questions.”
“All of them.”
I smiled.
“Good.”
Then I heard the children shouting from the other room.
“GRANDPA!”
Walter closed his eyes.
“I think they’re calling you.”
He smiled.
“They usually are.”
He stood.
Then stopped.
He looked at the chair beside me.
For the first time since I had known him, he seemed uncertain whether he was allowed to sit there.
I pulled the chair out.
“Sit down, Grandpa.”
He looked at me.
I nodded toward the chair.
“Dinner’s getting cold.”
Walter sat.
My husband brought the food.
The children argued over the last dinner roll.
