25Skye cried and cried and apologized endlessly. She offered to work all summer and pay for a new barn.
Grandma just asked her to turn to Christ. She told her that Jesus died for our sins and that God forgives us all.
But our last breakfast was excruciatingly quiet.
After we ate, as Mom and Skye were packing, Grandma called me into the living room.
She handed me a box of old photographs, the box that I’d spent every summer with as a child, savoring tintypes and posed pictures of my ancestors.
“You better take these pictures now, if you want them. You wouldn’t believe how people get with a person’s things.”
She meant her things, after she died.
I was so uncomfortable with this that I got up immediately, missing the chance to tell my grandmother that I would never, ever forget her.
B
