Many thanks for your kind and insightful comments on the last chapter. I do so appreciate it.

Happy reading =)

"A child needs a grandparent, anybody's grandparent, to grow a little more securely into an unfamiliar word." – Charles and Ann Morse

"Grandad!" Emily says happily as she runs into my open arms. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Emilene," I reply, hugging her tightly as I lift her up. "So much."

"I looked at the stars, Grandad. Every night. Did you?"

"Of course!" I reply with a warm smile. "Didn't I tell you we'd stargaze together?"

"You did," she says happily, offering me a toothy grin.

"Shane," I say, nodding to the familiar driver. He'd been with Lizzie for a few years now – since Emily was a toddler – and had always taken good care of my two girls. In fact, he's done more for Emily than her so called father ever has.

"Mr. Prentiss," he replies politely, offering a nod of his own.

"Please," I say with a dismissive shake of my hand. "Call me Hadley. When you say Mr. Prentiss I feel like I should be looking for my father," I finish with a smile and a half-chuckle.

"If you insist, Mr. Prentiss," he replies. I shake my head at his continued inability to drop the formalities. It's a conversation we've had many times, but I've never been able to convince him to stop. "Where would you like me to put Miss Emily's bags?" he asks, bringing my attention back to the present.

"In my room!" Emily says with a grin as she squirms out of my arms. "I'll do it!"

I hold back a chuckle as she takes the handle of her two large suitcases from Shane and begins to drag them toward her room. Shane and I share a look of amusement as she makes very slow progress down the short hallway, grunting with the effort every so often.

"How was the drive up?" I ask.

"Smooth. She slept most of the way after we landed. But as soon as we reached the village she woke and pressed her face to window, like always."

"Thank you for traveling with her," I say. "I know it's not exactly in your job description to fly with her."

He waves his hands dismissively. "I'm happy to help. Besides, this is doubling as my vacation."

"Vacation?" I say in surprise.

"I'm staying in town for a few days before flying to England to visit with my aunt. The Ambassador insisted I enjoy a few days off while she's in America with Mr. Campbell."

I tense at the mention of my son-in-law. Stupid git. I take a deep breath and exhale in an effort to rid my mind of the idiot.

"There's no better place to unwind," I say with a smile. "Enjoy your stay, and make sure you eat at Annette's – the food is simply phenomenal. And when you do, tell her Hadley sent you and she'll cook you up one or two of her secret recipes."

"I'll make sure to do that. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave? I'd like to get to town before dark."

"Oh no, you go ahead, I won't keep you. Emily and I will be just fine."

He nods and offers a smile. "Thank you. I'll see you in two weeks to pick up Miss Emily."

"Of course," I say with a nod and shake his hand firmly. I'd always liked him.

"Bye Shane!" Emily says as she runs from her room and gives him a tight hug.

"Bye, Miss Emily. I'll be back in a couple weeks to pick you up and bring you back home."

"See ya," she says with a cheeky grin and a quick wave of her hand. "Have a nice vacation," she adds after a moment.

"Thank you, Miss Emily. You're too kind. Mr. Prentiss," he says as he nods toward me and then heads toward the door.

Once he's begun his drive back down the mountain, I turn to Emily. "So, Emilene. Catch me up. What's new? Make any new friends? How's school? And your mum, how is she?"

"Grandad, slow down!" she commands after letting out a contagious giggle. "I can't answer them all at once!"

"Grandad?"

"Mm?" I hum in response before sipping at my tea and taking a bite of my breakfast.

"Are you married?"

I blink in surprise at her question. She'd asked it so innocently, having no idea what kind of emotion is laced within her question.

"I was," I say slowly as I nod, my gaze rising to meet her curious eyes. "A long time ago."

"Why aren't you anymore?"

I let out a sigh. "Because my wife died."

"Oh," she says sadly, her gaze turning back to the plate holding her breakfast. She remains silent for a moment, and I'd almost convinced myself she wasn't going to pursue it. But then she opened her mouth again, and I remembered this was Emily, and her curiosity for the world wasn't like any I'd ever seen before. "Was she my grandmum?"

"Yes," I say quietly. "She was."

"When did she die?"

"Before you were born."

"How long ago?" she presses.

"A long time," I answer vaguely. This was a wound I hadn't opened in a long time. Lizzie and I hadn't talked about her in years. But then Lizzie and I had been growing apart steadily for some time now…

"Oh," she says, her dark eyes growing wide with sadness. "But if she died before I was born, how could she be my grandmum?"

I know her question isn't meant to hurt me, but it only serves to remind me of what I'd lost the day she died. "I like to think she's still watching over us from somewhere, and is being your grandmum from wherever that is."

"What was she like?"

"Tell you what, Emily. How about you finish your breakfast, and then get dressed. I have something I want to show you, and then we can chat about your grandmother."

"Okay," she says happily, picking up her fork and digging into her breakfast.

"What is this place?" she asks, her eyes flitting around the area before settling on the pile of wood and tools.

"Well I thought it could be your secret spot."

"It's not a secret if you know about it," she points out. Damn. I always forget how smart she is, even if she is just 8 years old.

I chuckle. "I suppose not. Well then it can be your special place."

"Special place?"

"Yeah, somewhere where you can escape the world."

"Escape the world? But this place is in the world. I can't really escape the world if I'm-"

"Ah, well, technically, yes," I say, interrupting her objection. "But I meant it more in a metaphorical sen- You know what, it can just be a place for you to spend time when you stay with me."

She grins. "Sweet!"

"And I thought we might build a little something to keep you dry in case it rains."

"Together?"

"Well I'm certainly not going to let you wield a hammer all alone," I tease. "You'd poke your eye out."

"Wouldn't you poke it in?" she asks after a moment, her expression thoughtful.

"I… You know, I suppose you would. I never thought of that," I concede. She was entirely too smart. It wouldn't take long for her to be too smart for me.

"Does it have to be just my spot?" she asks, her tone surprisingly shy and uncertain.

I frown. "Don't you want it to be yours?"

She shakes her head. "I want it to be ours," she answers. "I don't want to be alone, so you can be with me. But no one else. Kay?"

I nod solemnly, noting her serious expression. I hold in a sigh, wondering how much of this is tied to her being carted around by Lizzie and then left to her own devices. Lizzie had fallen farther and farther into her career and begun to distancing herself from her daughter. I'd tried to warn her that Emily needed her mother, but it had only led to Lizzie pulling away from me. I couldn't quite understand why Lizzie still visited whenever she was in France, and let Emily visit even more often, but it wasn't something I was going to question – I was happy to see my daughter and my granddaughter.

"Now, shall we get to building?" I ask, after realizing I hadn't said anything and Emily was looking at me quizzically.

"What was Grandmum like?" Emily asks as she hands me a nail and I hammer it part way in before handing the tool over to her and letting her finish it. Clearly she hadn't forgotten our discussion over breakfast.

"Well, she was a lot like you, actually," I say with a small smile as I realize the similarities. I'd always known Lizze took after her, but it warmed my heart a little to notice how much Emily takes after her as well.

She pauses her hammering. "Me?"

I nod. "She was curious about everything – always asking me if I knew anything about it, or if I knew anyone who could teach her about it."

"What did she look like?" she asks as she finishes hammering the nail into the board and hands me the hammer and another nail.

"You and your mum take after her quite a bit. Dark hair, the most beautiful dark eyes, pale skin," I list off, remembering her fondly. "The first time I saw her I felt like I couldn't breathe."

"Why?" Emily asks, tilting her head to one side in confusion.

"She was that beautiful."

"Wow. Do you think I'll do that to someone when I'm older?"

"Oh, I know so, Emilene. You're already beautiful, and you'll only grow more so with age. You're going to take many a man's breath away."

She smiles and holds out her hand for the hammer. I hand it over and watch as she carefully taps the nail into the board. "Do you think she would've liked me?"

I smile as I imagine Emily and her grandmother curled up in our old house, reading – a love they surely would have shared. It's a scene I wish could have been a reality – she would have loved having a granddaughter to spoil. I imagine they'd have been thick as thieves.

"I think she would have loved you," I answer honestly, a tinge of sadness creeping into my voice. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, I wish she was still here.

"Yeah?" Emily asks uncertainly, her tone betraying how vulnerable she is when it comes to being loved. I grind my teeth in an effort to not show any outward anger over the damage her "father" had caused.

"Definitely."

Emily and I stand back and admire our handiwork. We'd formed a crude structure to provide some cover from the elements out of scrap wood I had lying around. I look down at Emily and find her looking at the structure with such excitement in her eyes. It had been a long week of work, but it had turned out rather well, if I do say so myself.

"I love it!" she exclaims. "It's perfect, Grandad. And it's our spot. No one else allowed."

"You bet, Emilene. Just us. Now go on," I say, gesturing for her to go ahead. "Check it out and give it a proper test!"

She grins and takes off from my side, scrambling to crawl in through the door. She turns around and peeks her head out. "Are you coming?"

"I'm not sure I can get in there," I say honestly.

"Then we gotta fix it. It's our spot. It can't be our spot if you can't get in."

"I'll try," I say, wondering whether my aging body can take the bending that is required to squeeze into the structure, but not entirely wanting to spend more time fixing it.

"Come on, Grandad!" Emily says, excitement seemingly exploding out of her.

After a few moments of somewhat painful contorting, I manage to squeeze in beside Emily, who immediately curls up onto my lap.

"Well this is quite cozy, isn't it?"

"I like it," Emily declares.

"Good. I'm glad."

She begins to fiddle with something and I peer around her shoulder in curiosity. "What've you got there?"

"It's a star puzzle," she explains, her brow furrowed in concentration as she twists and fiddles with it. "Shane gave it to me."

"Have you solved it?"

"Not yet. I tried to get Shane to do it for me, but he says he isn't my prince so I have to wait."

I frown in confusion. "I think you're going to need to give me more explanation than that…"

She begins to rattle off an explanation, recalling the story Shane had apparently told her when he'd given her the puzzle. Evidently a prince had hastily put together a fallen star to prove his undying love to the woman he'd hoped to make his princess. He succeeded and they lived happily ever after. The puzzle and the story had piqued Emily's interest, and I watched as she took it apart and tried different configurations, a little frown of concentration on her face.

"Can you do it for me?" she finally asks, holding out the pieces in her hands.

I chuckle. "I thought your prince was meant to do that for you."

"Well I don't need a stupid prince to do it, I just want to make the star," she declares stubbornly.

"Sorry, Emilene, I rather think I'm going to side with Shane on this one – you'll just have to figure it out yourself," I say with a smile. I'm pretty sure I couldn't figure it out anyway.

She grumbles something under her breath and I laugh again at her frustration. "Or maybe you should start looking for a prince to solve it for you," I tease.

"I don't want a stupid prince."

"Why not?"

"Because princes are boys and boys are stupid."

"They are?"

"Yes."

"Well I'm a boy," I point out. "Does that mean I'm stupid?"

"No," she answers as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You're Grandad. You're different."

"Oh, okay. I was worried for a moment there," I say with a grin. "But what's got you thinking boys are stupid?"

She stays quiet and I see her begin to bite her lip. I'd thought her answer would be quite simple – maybe a boy pushing her in the playground, or saying something to her during class – but it seems that it might be a little more.

"It's all right, Emily, you can tell me," I prompt.

"How did Grandmum die?" Emily asks, clearly not comfortable with sharing what's got her upset.

I take a deep breath and exhale it slowly before answering. It still hurts, even after decades' worth of time has passed. "When your mum was around your age, your Grandmum got very sick."

"Like a flu?"

"No, Emilene," I say softly. "Much worse than the flu."

"Oh," she says softly in reply. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever are you sorry for, Emily?" I ask as she turns around in my lap before wrapping her small arms around me tightly.

"You're sad now. Shane says sometimes there are things we shouldn't talk about with people because it makes them too sad. Is this one of those things?"

"No, Emilene, it isn't. It hurts and it makes me miss her very much, but it's good to talk about her. She would've wanted to be talked about, I think. You don't ever have to be sorry for being curious about her."

"Can I ask you about her?" she whispers.

"Of course. What would you like to know?"

She thinks for a moment. "What was her name?"

"Genevieve Elizabeth Sonnier."

"Elizabeth!" she says in recognition. "Like Mommy!"

I chuckle. "Yes, we were meant to name your mother Justine, but the name just didn't suit her at all. We'd argued a bit about what to name her, and then I suggested Elizabeth for her middle name and it just suited her so well that we decided to go with Elizabeth."

"What's Mommy's middle name?"

"Marie."

"Why'd Mommy make her name my middle name?"

"She told me it was because she wanted to give you a connection to your family. I think she might've wanted to honour her mother as well."

"Oh. Okay. What was Grandmum's name again?" she asks sheepishly, clearly having gotten sidetracked.

"Genevieve Elizabeth Sonnier."

"Sonnier," she pronounces slowly, and unsurely.

"Well, after she married me, she took my last name, so she was Genevieve Elizabeth Prentiss."

Emily's face falls and I frown at her apparent sadness. "What is it, Emily?"

"I'm not a Prentiss," she answers sadly. "Emily Elizabeth Campbell. I'm a Campbell. I don't wanna be a Campbell. I wanna be a Prentiss like Mommy, and like you, and like Grandmum."

I blink at her sudden declaration. Was there more to this, or was it just a case of wanting to fit in? Did she resent her father as much I do?

"I'm sure your other grandparents have some pretty interesting stories on their history too," I offer half-heartedly.

"I've never met them," she explains.

"No?"

She shakes her head. "Daddy's busy at work, so he can't take me, and Mommy's busy at work now too."

"Oh, well maybe next time you see your father you can ask about them. I'm sure he can tell you about them."

She shrugs her little shoulders. "I don't see him a lot. I don't think he likes me very much."

"Why do you say that?"

"He doesn't come home lots, and when he does he and Mommy yell a lot. And he doesn't really talk to me, and he's never said he loves me. And he didn't come home for my birthday 'cause he had to work. But even when Mommy's working on my birthday, she calls to tell me happy birthday."

Yelling? Things are worse than I thought. God, how I wish Lizzie would just leave him. Everyone would be better off.

"Well I'm sorry I didn't call on your birthday…"

"You don't have a phone," she says as she tilts her head and her brow furrows in confusion.

"Does that mean I can be excused from not calling you to wish you a happy birthday?"

She nods. "You wished me happy birthday the last time I visited."

"But it wasn't your birthday then."

'You said it was an early happy birthday."

"And that it was. And now you get a belated one too. Happy birthday, Emilene. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Grandad. Thanks for building us a secret spot."

"Anytime. Now how about we go get some dinner?"

She nods and then crawls off my lap and heads out back into the world. I let out a breath, realizing she had far too much emotional baggage for an 8 year old. As I crawl out of the crude structure that had quickly become a special spot to us, I realize that maybe it really will be her hideaway from the world. I'd left Talloires and most of society behind when I moved to the cabin, preferring to live off the land and enjoy the peace of nature. This lopsided and poorly engineered (though not for lack of trying) structure could be her cabin away from the world. I can only hope that it will prove to be as healing as my cabin has been.

So...did you enjoy the peek into Emily's childhood? Like that some details from other conversations were woven in? Enjoy the cameo from Shane? Feel a little tugging at the heartstrings courtesy of Emily's desire to be a Prentiss? Let me know!