Letters to Katie by Kathleen Fuller Page A

She sniffed, fully in control now.
    That was one thing Sawyer knew about his grandmother. She wanted to control everything,
     including his life. She’d tried it once before, and it didn’t work that time. It wasn’t
     going to work now either.
    “My luggage is on the front porch,” she said, pointing to the house. “Take it inside.”
    “So you are staying?”
    “I didn’t fly here for a day trip.” She peered at him again. “We have to talk. You’re
     through avoiding me.”
    “I wasn’t avoiding—”
    “Don’t insult my intelligence, or yours. You were ignoring me, and you know it. And
     on some level I understand. But the time for games is over. You have decisions to
     make, important ones. And I’m not leaving until you make them.”
    Sawyer sighed. “Then you’ll be here a long time.”
    “As long as it takes.”
    They stared at each other. He could be as stubborn as he needed to be. “I’ll get your
     luggage,” he said, turning from her.
    “Be careful with it. It’s very expensive.”
    “Of course it is,” he muttered.
    “I heard that.”
    Sawyer clenched his teeth and walked toward the house, expecting her to be directly
     behind him. But when he rounded the house and reached the front porch, he turned.
     She wasn’t there. He waited a few moments and saw her appear from the backyard, walking
     as if she were treading on eggshells. He didn’t remember her being so slow before.
     If anything, she’d been surprisingly energetic considering her age.
    When she reached him, she sounded a little winded. He frowned. “Are you all right?”
    “I’m fine.” Her tone sliced through the air. “What are you waiting for? Get my bags
     inside before they gather more dust. And once you’ve taken them upstairs, we can have
     our talk.”
    Sawyer gripped the handles of the two bags. He lifted them, almost dropping them because
     he misjudged the weight. What did she have in here, cement blocks? “Not tonight,”
     he said, glancing at her over his shoulder.
    She narrowed her eyes. “What could possibly be more important than our conversation?”
    “Laura. She’s leaving tomorrow.”
    Cora expressed surprise, and Sawyer thought he saw hope gleaming in her eyes. “She’s
     leaving you?”
    “No. She’s going back to Tennessee. To talk to her parents.” He took a deep breath.
     “To invite them to our wedding.”
    Cora’s face paled. With more pep than he had yet seen from her, she scaled the steps
     and stood in front of him. “No. That can’t happen. You cannot marry her.”
    “This shouldn’t surprise you. You know how I feel about her. Besides, you don’t have
     the right to tell me who I can and cannot marry.” He looked down at her. “I’m not
     my mother.”
    She flinched, as Sawyer expected. It was a cruel blow, but she was irritating him.
     He refused to bend to her wishes, which had nothing to do with what he wanted and
     everything to do with her demands.
    Cora took a deep breath and hiked her chin, as she always did before aiming a well-placed
     barb. But no barb came. Instead she simply asked, “If you do, will you still move
     to New York?”
    He set her two-ton bags back on the porch. “I never said I’d move to New York. I’m
     pretty sure I made it clear I wouldn’t.”
    He had never met anyone so hardheaded. Lord, give me the right words. And patience. Lots and lots of patience .No matter how he might feel about Cora, she was his grandmother and did deserve respect.
     He softened his tone. “Laura and I are getting married here. We’re going to live here.
     It’s already been decided.”
    “Hmmph.” Cora crossed her arms. “Maybe I should have a talk with her.”
    “Leave her out of this. Our discussion is between you and me. I promise we’ll talk
     tomorrow.”
    “I know how you are about your promises.”
    He should have known she wouldn’t let that go. “You have my word. We’ll talk about
     whatever you want, but it has to be tomorrow.”