Grandmother’s Hearth

"So, what do you think?" Grandma stretched out her arm toward the home before us.

The interior was nothing like the outside. From the outside, it looked like a regular wooden family home, though larger than usual, almost the size of three bungalows.

But inside…

Marbled floors gleamed under the sunlight. Golden-plated railings lined a red-carpeted staircase leading to the second floor. At the centre stood a small fountain, water trickling softly, with a beam of light streaming down from a circular skylight at the very top. Portraits hung along the walls, some familiar, others of people I had yet to know.

One portrait in particular drew my eyes. Placed at the centre of the stair landing, it depicted a younger version of Grandma seated with a child on her lap, blonde-haired, unmistakably Father. Around them stood four other children, two boys and two girls, all with the same golden hair. Behind Grandma stood a clean-shaven man, smiling proudly in a military tunic, his hand resting at his waist.

Grandma noticed me staring. “Our family portrait is something, isn’t it?”

“Yes. I was especially drawn to Grandpa’s presence,” I replied softly.

Even from the painting, he radiated warmth, strong but gentle.

“Hehehe,” Grandma chuckled, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “He was, after all, the man I loved. Too bad he isn’t here to spend his last days with me.”

“My condolences,” I said quietly.

“It’s alright. His spirit still lives here.” She smiled, slapping me firmly on the back.

I gave her a small smile in return.

"..."

“Right then, follow me. Let’s have a talk in the living room.”

The living room, unlike the grand entrance, was cosy and warm, vintage, almost. Comfortable sofas circled a simple, patterned carpet. Cupboards and bookcases brimmed with trinkets and tomes. A stone fireplace stood at the centre, logs newly placed and just beginning to smoulder. Fresh flowers rested in vases by the windows, framed by cheerful, flower-patterned curtains.

“Sit down. I’ll brew some tea,” Grandma said before stepping away.

Alice and Karen, impressed by the décor, whispered excitedly to one another. Father and I remained silent, awkwardly waiting until Grandma returned with a tray. She poured tea for each of us, except Father.

“Where’s mine, Maa?” Father asked cautiously.

“You aren’t getting any. I’m still mad at you.” Her eyes narrowed with sharp disapproval.

Father sighed and looked away.

“So then, what brings you here, Albrecht?” Grandma sipped her tea, her gaze firm. “It’s rare for you to visit me.”

Father swallowed hard, then bowed. “I need your help, Maa.”

“Hmph? And why should I help you?”

“It’s for my daughters.”

At that, Grandma’s sternness softened. “Very well. Tell me everything.”

And so, Father revealed the truth, everything, from the beginning until now.

"..."

“…And that’s how it is. Alice and Karen aren’t my daughters by blood,” Father finished, “but I still see them as my very own.”

Alice and Karen fidgeted nervously, no doubt worried about how Grandma would react.

But Grandma simply nodded. “Oh, I already knew that.”

Father froze. “…You what?”

“I knew already,” she repeated, as if it were obvious.

“So then…?”

“Yes.” She wrapped Alice and Karen in a strong embrace. “You’re still my granddaughters, no matter what anyone says.”

The two girls beamed, hugging her tightly.

Father blinked in disbelief. “If you knew, why didn’t you ever say anything, Maa?”

Grandma sighed, eyes lowering. “It's all my fault, Albrecht. After your father passed, the Vandrelis family lost much of its strength. Your brothers and sisters only worsened matters. As the former head, I had little choice but to wed you to Seraphine, despite knowing her vixen nature and the rumours surrounding her. I know it was cruel. I understand if you cannot forgive me.” Her gaze drifted toward a portrait of her younger self standing with Grandpa. Her voice broke. “But I am proud of you. You carried this family alone… You made it to the Duke rank. Even your father would have been proud.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Benjamin, your son truly did it.”

“Maa…” Father stepped forward and embraced her.

A happy reunion, though I couldn’t help feeling a little out of place. Not that I wasn’t already an outsider.

"..."

When the mood quieted, Grandma changed the subject. “So. The Beaumont faction truly is growing dangerously? The last thing I recall was that their family was only Baron rank, while your father was an Earl.”

“Yes, Maa,” Father replied grimly. “Their growth has been… alarming. Too many opportunists are gathering together. It’s what happens in times without war. But I’ve prepared countermeasures; it just needs time.”

“Very well. I’ll permit you to stay here. At least I can spend some of my missing years with my grandchildren… and my son.”

Her eyes softened briefly before hardening again. “Are you still in contact with Katherine?”

Father hesitated, his voice low. “…No.”

Grandma sighed. “I’m sorry, Albrecht.”

He shook his head. “No, Maa. It’s fine.”

“And Kyle, Isabelle, and the little brat—Timothy, was it? How are they faring?”

“They’re well. Kyle is training as a knight to serve the king. Isabelle is excelling in her studies and is currently at home for the summer holiday. Timothy… he’s as energetic as ever.”

“I see.”

At last, I had names for my elder stepbrother and stepsister. Kyle, Isabelle, and Timothy. It stirred something in me, curiosity, perhaps, to meet them one day. But that might be a distant dream, given the broken ties between families.

“Right then, kids,” Grandma clapped her hands. “Make yourselves at home. There are two spare rooms. You girls can share, and Elias and your father can take the other.”

Alice tilted her head mischievously. “Hmm… we don’t mind sharing with Elias, right Karen?”

“Right, Sis,” Karen chimed in.

“Wha—what are you saying?” I stammered, face heating.

“Hehe, what are you thinking about, E-l-i-a-s?” Karen teased, stretching my name.

“Stop messing with me!” I groaned as the sisters giggled.

“As expected of my handsome grandson,” Grandma added proudly, her eyes sparkling.

“G-Grandma! Don’t say weird things!” I threw up my hands in protest.

Laughter filled the room, warm and bright, echoing through the wooden house like the hearthfire itself.