He remembered being fifteen, sent to his room after bringing home yet another less than satisfactory report card. His parents told him to study, but Jake knew they wouldn't bother to check up on him.

They did this all the time. It wasn't a punishment so much as his parents' sense of obligation. Their son underperformed, so they felt they needed to do something about it. Sending him to his room got Jake out of the way and gave them the peace of mind that they were doing their job as parents.

He didn't need to study. It was boring and unnecessary, and each time he was forced to crack open a textbook for school he found himself hating life a little bit more. He sat at his desk and reached for his assigned reading from his backpack, only to hesitate when he saw the other book he had thrown in there earlier. It was an art history book he stole from the school library. He had been enamoured by all the paintings and photographs in the book, but didn't feel comfortable looking at it with other people around. Now, in the privacy of his own bedroom, Jake pulled the book out and started reading.

Just as he started to lose himself in the pages of the book, there was a knock at his door. Before he had a chance to hide the book or call out to whoever was knocking, the door flung open and Jake's grandma walked in.

"Jacob Stone, do you care to explain why this report card your folks showed me is filled with 'C's' and 'D's'?" she snapped at him as she marched into his room. She carried the report card in one hand, in her other hand was a cane. Jake was never quite sure if his grandma actually needed the cane to walk, or if she just carried it so she had something to threaten her grandkids with. She seemed to be shaking it at them more often than she seemed to be supporting herself with it.

"Uh…" was all the young boy could get out before the old woman continued her rant.

"You and I both know you're brighter than this, young man!" She waved her cane in his direction.

"Yes, ma'am," Jake looked in her general direction, though his eyes were cast down. Unlike his parents, Jake's grandma always had a way to make him feel ashamed of himself.

"What's that you've got there?" his grandma asked, a little softer this time. She came into the room a little more and looked at the book over Jake's shoulder. "Is that for school?"

"No. Sorry, gran. I know I should be studyin'," Jake answered with a shake of his head. He went to close the book, but his grandma had lifted up her cane and blocked the book's cover from falling shut.

"We both know that's not necessary," she replied, flipping the book back open with her cane. "Van Gogh? What do you know about him?"

For the first time since she came into his room, Jake turned to look his grandma in the eye. "Not much, just that he cut off his ear and killed himself. But I really like this painting here," he pointed at the reproduction of Cafe Terrace at Night that was featured in the book.

"Yes, that was always one of my favourites, as well," she smiled at him. "You know, that was the first time Van Gogh experimented with starry backgrounds."

"Cool," Jake smiled at his grandma.

"You know, Jacob," she sounded serious again, though she still spoke softly. "You're at a tough age. I know you don't always have your priorities straight."

Jake was about to say something but his grandma shushed him.

"I just want you to know that you're capable of so much. You're a bright boy, Jacob. Don't let other people's opinions get in the way of what you want to do."

Jake smiled slightly. "Okay, gran."

"I'll leave you with your book, then," she said as she started to leave the room.

"Gran?" Jake called out as she had reached the doorway. "Don't tell mama and daddy. Please?"

"Tell them what?" His grandma asked. "As far as I'm concerned, I came up here to lecture my lazy grandson about his grades and found him studying a book he got out of the school library."

"Thanks, gran," he said, turning his attention back to his book.

He was eighteen, lying on his bed, tossing a rubber ball into the air. He had been hiding in his room since he came home from school that day, shutting himself away from the rest of the world.

He continued to toss the ball into the air, catching it, and tossing it again. It was hypnotizing in a way, and gave him something to focus on other than what was going on in his life.

Suddenly his door burst open, startling Jake and causing him to miss catching the ball. It bounced onto the floor and rolled away while his grandma marched in, shaking her cane at him.

"Jacob, what's this your mother tells me about you spending all evening locked in your room?" she snapped at him. "It's a gorgeous day out there, and you sure ain't gonna enjoy it moping around on your bed!"

"Not right now, gran," he mumbled, turning over onto his side so that his back was to her.

"Jacob Stone, don't you turn your back to me," she spoke assertively. "No girl is worth locking yourself up like this."

"She wasn't just any girl, gran," Jake sighed, and turned back towards his grandma. "She was special. She was everything to me."

"I know you think that right now, son," his grandma's voice softened. "But you're young, come time you'll learn that it just wasn't meant to be. There's a girl out there somewhere right now, waiting for you to get your butt out of this bed."

"I don't think so," Jake shook his head. "Samantha dumped me. Me! I'm never the dumpee, gran. No girl is going to want me now… OW!" He was surprised by his grandma's hand, suddenly slapping him in the back of his head.

"Jacob Stone, don't you ever talk about yourself like that," she lectured. "You are a great boy. Smart, handsome, well mannered. Any girl would be lucky to have you, and don't you forget it."

He looked away, suddenly embarrassed to be having this conversation with his grandma. But she continued anyways.

"One day you'll meet the girl you're meant to be with, and you'll just know. It might take your brain some time to catch up, but you'll know in here," she patted Jake's heart and he smirked.

"That easy, huh?"

"Oh, heavens no!" she laughed. "If it's meant to be, there will be plenty of challenges for you two to go through together. But that's half the fun."

"Thanks, gran," Jake smiled at his grandma.

"It's okay to be sad, Jacob," she added. "But promise me you won't spend too much time moping around up here?"

"Sure thing," he promised.

He was twenty-seven and sitting at the desk in his father's office. Or rather, his office. These days his father hardly stepped foot in here, let alone even came to work. The family business was slowly falling into his hands.

It had been an interesting day, mostly due to the mysterious white envelope that had been slipped under the door earlier. He had read and reread it numerous times and still couldn't quite make sense of it. Apparently he was qualified to interview for a prestigious position at the New York Metropolitan Library? What made them think a small town oil rigger from Oklahoma was qualified for such a position? And who delivered the envelope anyways? It hadn't been sent through the mail, but apparently it was all the way from New York?

His thoughts were interrupted when his grandma came bursting into the office in her typical, unannounced style. Before he even realized what he was doing, Jake found himself hiding the letter in a pile of paperwork.

"There's my favourite grandma," he got up from the desk and opened his arms wide for a hug. When he released her she stepped back to check him over.

"You're too skinny," she waved her cane at him. "When's the last time you ate?"

Jake smiled and shook his head. "I'm fine, gran. So what brings you around today, anyways?"

"What, an old woman can't stop by to visit her favourite grandson at work?"

Jake had made his way back to his desk and started shuffling through some papers.

"Were you going to tell me what's bothering you?" She asked, realizing there was something Jake wasn't saying.

Jake hesitated for a minute, struggling to find the find the words. "Are you...are you disappointed in me, gran?"

"Heavens no, child!" His grandma looked shocked at the question. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know," Jake shrugged. "You always used to talk to me like I was capable of so much. And now here I am, stuck in the family business just like dad and granddaddy were."

His grandma marched over to his side of the desk and pushed her cane onto the back of his chair, causing it to spin slightly so that Jake was now facing her. Once his eyes met hers, she slapped him in the back of the head.

"Jacob Stone, what have I told you about talking about yourself like that?" she lectured. "This is respectable work, nothing for you to be ashamed of. And what you're doing, taking over the business your great granddaddy worked so hard to build, why there's nothing more honourable than that. I'm proud of you, Jacob."

Jake forced a small smile. "Thanks, gran. It's just...I don't know, sometimes I feel like I could be doing more, you know?"

"Then why don't you?" his grandma asked.

"But the business. People are counting on me."

"Who says you can't do both?"

Jake didn't have an answer for that, and when his grandma left the office, she left him deep in thought about ways he could better his life.

He was thirty, and had just published his first art history paper. Granted, he had published it under a pseudonym, but he still felt great about himself nonetheless.

Jake really wanted to tell someone. He felt so proud of himself for taking that huge step outside his comfort zone, he wanted someone to share it with. But he really couldn't think who. His parents wouldn't understand. His sisters would try, but they really wouldn't get it, either. And then there was…

Almost as if on cue, Jake's grandma let herself in, bursting through the front door of his apartment.

"When are you gonna learn to knock, gran?" Jake chuckled.

"When are you going to learn to lock your door?" she countered. He smiled, but didn't bother to argue back. She did have a point.

He didn't bother asking if she wanted anything to drink, and just immediately got to work making her a pot of tea as she took a seat at his kitchen table. Being the nosy woman that she was, she started rifling through the books and magazines that Jake had spread out.

"I see you're still interested in art history," she said matter of factly.

Jake shrugged as he brought his grandma her tea. "Oh you know, something to take my mind of work."

"It's good to have other interests, Jacob," she encouraged as she played with her teabag. "And you always had such a strong love for art. I don't know why you never pursued it."

Jake hesitated for a minute. He wanted so badly to flip open the journal that sat in front of her to the page his paper was on. It was the perfect opportunity, and if anyone would understand, it would be his grandma.

"Would you have been proud of me?" he asked. "If I pursued it? The money wouldn't have been as good but…"

"Jacob Stone, stop it!" she interrupted. "You know damn well I'm proud of you no matter what you do. Yes, I would have been proud had you pursued a career in art history, but that doesn't mean I'm not proud of everything that you have accomplished."

"Thanks, gran." He smiled a slight smile, and began clearing the clutter off the table. "Let me just move these out of your way." In his haste, Jake accidentally left one of the journals behind, which his grandma promptly scooped up, figuring she could study it so that she and her grandson would have more to talk about the next time she came to visit.

"Stone?" a familiar voice brought him back to the present. "Jake, are you okay?"

His eyes had watered, though he quickly wiped away any tears before they could fall. Stuffing his phone into his back pocket, Jake turned to face the person calling him.

"Hey Cassandra," he smiled at her. "Yeah, I'm fine."

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded.

"Hey, could you tell Baird that I had to leave early this afternoon?" He asked. "There's uh, there's something I've got to do."

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked one more time.

"I'll be fine," he assured the redhead. He wanted nothing more than to get out of the annex, to go back to the comfort of his apartment, but something about the way Cassandra was looking at him caused Jake to tell her more than he had intended. "That was my sister on the phone. My uh, my gran passed away."

Her arms were around him before he had a chance to stop her, though Jake had to admit her embrace felt nice. He wasn't sure if it was the act of being hugged that comforted him, or the person doing the hugging. Either way, he found himself returning the gesture, his cheek resting on the top of Cassandra's head.

"Oh Jake, I'm so sorry!," she whispered as she pulled away. "Were you two close?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "She always encouraged me when no one else would. Sometimes I think she knew more about me than she was tellin'."

"She sounds nice," Cassandra said wistfully.

Jake laughed. "She was nice, that's true. But you certainly didn't want to cross her. She used to carry around this cane. Heaven knows if she actually needed it to walk, but she sure as hell loved to use it to beat my ass red."

Cassandra cringed and Jake placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "It's really not as bad as it sounds," he said.

"I'll let you get going, then," Cassandra smiled shyly up at Jake. "I'm sure you want to be alone right now."

She turned to leave, but the same part of him that found himself telling her about his grandma's passing spoke up again.

"Actually…" Jake hesitated once he had Cassandra's attention again. He reached up and scratched the back of his head as he tried to figure out why he had stopped her in the first place. "You know what I'd really like?"

Cassandra shook her head.

"Would you like to go get some coffee? I don't think I want to be alone. I'd really rather be with someone who would like to listen to me talk about my gran."

"I'd love that," Cassandra beamed. "Just let me go get my coat."

"I'm surprised you still managed to end up with an IQ of 190," Cassandra giggled as they walked towards Jake's apartment. After spending over an hour in the coffee shop together, she insisted on being the gentlemen and walking him home to make sure he was alright given the circumstances. Jake felt no need to argue since it meant more time spent with Cassandra. "I mean, given how many times she would slap you in the back of the head."

"I know, right?" Jake chuckled. "Just imagine how smart I would have grown up to be if she hadn't done that?"

Cassandra giggled again and the sound was music to Jake's ears. He had always known he had feelings for the redhead, but he had never allowed himself to act on them. But today was different. Today he was reminded that life was short, that there might not be a tomorrow. Especially with Cassandra…

He must have gotten too lost in thought because Cassandra was looking at him curiously.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked with concern.

"I'll be fine, darlin'," he tried to smile but he couldn't force one convincing enough. "It's just, my gran believed in me so much. I know she was proud of me, but I still feel like I let her down. She'll never know about everything I've accomplished."

Cassandra looked Jake deep in the eyes. She could tell he was hurting. From what she had heard that day, there was only one person who could make him feel better when he got down on himself like that. So, with that person in mind, she reached up and playfully slapped the back of Jake's head.

"Jacob Stone, don't you dare talk about yourself like that," Cassandra said softly, a small smile on her lips that Jake couldn't help but return.

They didn't say anything else until they reached Jake's apartment. Any awkward goodbye they might of had to face was instantly forgotten when they discovered a small brown package sitting outside his apartment door. Jake picked it up and inspected it, a confused look on his face.

"It has my name on it, but there's no address or return address," he explained. "I wonder what it is?"

Cassandra shrugged, just as clueless as Jake was. Curiousity got the best of both of them, and Jake soon found himself letting Cassandra into his apartment, the two of them sitting side by side on his couch, package still in his hand.

"Well, are you going to open it?" Cassandra asked eagerly as Jake continued to inspect the package.

He began to carefully peel away the brown paper, slowly pulling it away to reveal an aged scrapbook that someone had obviously been keeping for quite some time.

"This was gran's," Jake said wistfully. "I remember seeing it at her house growing up."

Cassandra leaned in closer and took Jake's hand in her own, giving it an encouraging squeeze. "Open it," she whispered.

Jake hesitantly opened the scrapbook. The first few pages included newspaper articles from when he was growing up. Articles from 4-H shows, mandatory school science fairs, anything that featured his name. Cassandra giggled at one picture of Jake as a young boy standing next to a goat and holding a blue ribbon, a huge smile on his face.

"I remember that day," he said fondly. "That's the only time I ever won one of those damn things."

They continued to flip through the pages of the scrapbook until they reached the later years of Jake's life. Turning the page he stopped and gasped. His grandma had saved his very first published article.

"How could she have known?" he asked no one in particular, his voice a mere whisper. "I never told anybody."

Cassandra moved her hand from Jake's hand to his shoulder. "You said so yourself, sometimes you thought she knew more about you than she let on,"

"But still…" Jake continued to flip through the pages. "They're all here. Every single paper I had published, she saved them all."

"See, your gran knew everything you were capable of, Jacob," Cassandra encouraged. "She was proud of you, the real you."

"How did this even get here?" Jake asked, still enamoured by the scrapbook. "She just died this morning, and there was no address written on the package."

Jake and Cassandra both reached the same conclusion at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled.

"Magic," they said together.

"You really think the Library went through all this trouble to get this scrapbook to me?" Jake asked.

"You needed to see for yourself that your gran knew just how special you are, Jake. The Library knew that."

Cassandra's wording didn't slip by Jake and he turned to look at her again, a playful smile on his face. "You think I'm special?"

"Of course I do, Jake. And so did your gran." Cassandra spoke confidently, but Jake noticed that she had trouble meeting his eyes this time around, and she blushed slightly.

He was suddenly reminded of the conversation he had with his gran when he was still just a teenager suffering from his first heartbreak. He remembered how she told him that his heart would know when he was in love straight away, though it would likely take his brain some time to catch up. He remembered her telling him of the challenges he would face, and how they would make it all worthwhile.

He hadn't realized it back then, but now that he was sitting beside her, staring at her soft blue eyes, and sharing such a vulnerable piece of his soul with her, Jake knew that his gran had been talking about Cassandra the whole time.

He must have drifted off again, getting lost in thought, because Cassandra was waving a hand in front of his face, trying to get Jake's attention.

"You alive in there?" she asked playfully. Jake smiled and nodded.

"Say, did I tell you the story of the first time I got dumped?" he asked, before launching into the detailed description of that afternoon, making sure not to leave out a single detail of his gran's speech.