My Best Man by Andy Schell (top 10 novels TXT) 📕

cousins, one boy and two girls, all in their early twenties. And like my brother and me, none of them are married. So here I am, the gay kid, home with a girlfriend, and my mother is absolutely exploding with the unexpected news that I’m the first to be married,

Amity, in full poo up, drives with me over to my grandmother’s home. I’m nervous about Grammie meeting Amity. Obviously, haven’t spoken to her about Amity’s and my hasty

And this won’t be the time or place for me to explain fully.

As we pull into the driveway, Grammie, in a handsome maroon silk blouse and matching pants, is sitting on a bench beneath a grand old oak tree in the front yard of her Tudor home in enough. She waves at the sight of us, and we wave back before getting out of the car and walking over to her. “Hello,” she calls as we approach.

“Hey, Grammie,” I say, bending over and hugging her

I step back and hold her hand. “Grammie, this is Amity.”

Amity cocks her head, reaches out for Grammie’s free hand and lays the accent on each syllable. “Grammie Ford, I’ve heard so much about you.” The truth is, I’ve told her very little Grammie. Amity is turning on the charm autopilot.

“And I’ve heard something about you,” my grandmother

answers sweetly, while looking at me. “Your mother called me last night and told me the aim of our gathering this evening has changed.”

“That’s right,” Amity answers, letting go of Grammie’s hand and replacing it with mine. “Harry and I are engaged.” Amity is a little too confident. And she realizes immediately that her confidence has no effect on my grandmother.

There is a moment of uncomfortable silence. I’m holding both their hands, and though no one is moving a muscle, it feels as if these two women are pulling me in opposite directions. I look at Grammie, who is smiling, but neutral. “It was kind of sudden, Grandmother.” I rarely call her Grandmother. She knows I’m slightly off edge.

“Life is always full of surprises,” she answers. “Sit down.” We all release hands, and Amity sits on one side of her, I on the other. Grammie turns to Amity. “Harry tells me you two have no secrets is this true?”

“Absolutely,” Amity answers firmly.

“Why are you marrying my grandson?” she asks directly. She’s not aggressive or distrusting in manner, merely honest.

“I do love Harry,” Amity answers, her feathers just the slightest bit ruffled. She can tell my grandmother is real, not easily flattered or manipulated as my mother can be.

My grandmother asks, “Is that why you’re marrying him?” Amity looks at me. Before I can offer help, she quickly reclaims her perfect instincts and follows them accordingly. “No. I’m marrying him to help him get his inheritance.” Dead on.

“Thank you, dear,” Grammie answers. “The last thing this family needs is another pile of horse manure.” She pats both of our legs. “So. What about true love?”

“She really does love me, Gram, and I love her too,” I answer.

“But not like you would another boy,” she reminds me. Turning to Amity she says, “And no matter how much you may feel for

my grandson, you know he simply isn’t able to feel the same in return?”

I’m amazed that my grandmother is so steadfast in her knowledge of me. “We know, Grammie,” I say, starting to sound defensive. “We’ve talked all this out. We know what we’re doing.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you do,” my grandmother tells us. “I know the provisions of your father’s will. He talked about it with me. I strongly disagreed with him about it. Ten years you have to stay married. Ten years. Believe me, the next decade will be the most significant of all. It’s the only time in your life that your body will remain young while your mind will ripen. It’s a precious combination that lasts only for a short time. I fear you’ll be making a mistake by this marriage. If you are planning on coupling in your lives, it’s during this period that you should offer yourselves fully to the right person, each of you.”

Amity dispassionately explains, “I’ve told Harry he’s free to sow his wild oats. Be with whoever he needs to be with. He’s offered me equal treatment.”

“It’s not the same,” my grandmother answers, shaking her head sadly. “The years will pass. You’ll never be able to go back.”

“Grammie,” I say quietly, “trust us. We’re not going to screw our lives up over this. It’ sthe only way. Dad forced my hand, and now I have to play it.”

My grandmother sighs, takes a moment to think. “I could fix all this by giving you money,” she says, exasperated.

I look ahead, then over at Amity. She looks back at me, and we both remain silent. It’s true. She could put a stop to it. But as soon as I realize the possibility of it, she speaks up again.

“No,” she says, resolutely. “I’ve trusted you since you were a little boy to do the right thing, and you always have. You’re better than the rest of us in that way. I respect your decision, Harry. I

just felt the need to give you my two cents.”

I smile and tell her, “Well, that’s two cents more than anyone

else has given me in this family.” She chuckles, and Amity looks uncomfortable. “Come on, Gram. Don’t worry. Just give it time. Everything will work out OK. Let’s go to dinner.”

We arrive at the club to find my mother again beaming like the Statue of Liberty, her family gathered around her. Amity and I approach with my grandmother on my arm, as if the royal couple is now escorting the queen mother, and my mother starts in with the picture taking. Amity knows my mother is making this evening an event, and there’s nothing Amity likes more than an event, especially when she’s the theme. My relatives are slightly nervous, my female cousins stifling excitable giggles. Amity rises