“Don’t tell me you’re getting your things in order. I don’t want to hear that.”

The smile widened. “Oh, I’m getting on in years, but I plan to be around for a good long while.”

“I hope so. Harrison and I need you in our lives.”

“I’m sure that’s true, but I think you might need a little more than just me.”

Uh-oh. The conversation had taken a turn he was going to find awkward. He could feel it.

“I have a lot of pictures of your father,” she said. “Less of your mother. I wish there were more.”

Okay, not the direction he’d thought they were headed. He relaxed. “I have some of her. A handful. I’ll give them to you to put in one of the albums.”

“You were a handsome little boy. Very affectionate and helpful.”

“Is that how you remember me?”

“It’s how you were.”

“I think I got in plenty of trouble, made messes and talked back.”

The smile returned. “Some, but that’s what children do.” Her expression turned serious. “I have so many regrets with you, Toby. After your mother died and I came to live here, I didn’t protect you enough.”

He looked away. “That was a long time ago.”

“Was it? Sometimes it feels like yesterday. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and talk some sense into my younger self.” She glanced down, then back at him. “I only had the one child. I wanted more, but I kept miscarrying. Maybe if I’d had my two or three, I would have been better at seeing your father for what he was rather than what I wanted him to be. I should have stood between the two of you more than I did.”

He hated seeing her like this. Although he agreed with the sentiment—she should have taken care of him better—he didn’t want to blame her or even talk about it.

“I did just fine.”

Her gaze locked with his. “He beat you. He went after you time after time, and I did very little. As you got older, it got worse, and by the time you were a teenager, I was too afraid to get between you.”

“I would never have hurt you.”

“You weren’t the one I was afraid of.”

He moved toward her and took her hand. “Judy, I love you. I will always love you. That’s all that matters.”

“I love you, too. It’s funny. They say that when people get old, they get clarity about what’s important and what isn’t. I suppose that’s true. I don’t miss that I never went to Europe or owned nice jewelry or had a fancy car. But I regret not being a better grandmother to you. I should have stayed with you when you had Harrison. I should have moved to Texas to help you.”