I, Gracie

by Sharon Sala

  Someone had a sense of humor.

  But the irony of seeing a coyote in Branson was not lost on her. They'd been with her daily back home, and this felt like a bit of a hello from her past.

  She drove back to her apartment, changed out of her work clothes, and got something to eat. Going through her mail, she found a letter from Decker Funeral Home. It was a "thank you for letting us serve you," letter, and a certified copy of Mama's death certificate.

  Now she could file for the life insurance, and she did.

  After that, the rest of the afternoon sped past until it was time for her date with John.

  She stood in the bedroom, staring at herself.

  With eyebrows and eyelashes as black as her hair, makeup was rarely on the agenda. She'd washed her hair over an hour ago, but it was still damp, so she just left it down to finish drying.

  John would be here in less than thirty minutes, and she began to second guess herself about what she would to wear.

  It had been a hot, humid day, and it would be a hot, sticky night, so decided to wear denim shorts and a red sleeveless top.

  It was 5:00 when she heard a vehicle coming up the drive. She peeked out the window. When the SUV stopped and the driver got out, her heart fluttered. It was John, in jeans and a t-shirt that fit his body like second skin, and he was coming up the steps.

  She got the keys from her purse, and when he knocked, she opened the door.

  John drove into town with his heart pounding. The anticipation of spending a whole evening at his home with Gracie was like birthday and Christmas all rolled into one.

  When he pulled up to her apartment and got out, he had to make himself walk up the steps because he felt like running.

  He knocked.

  The door swung inward, and she was standing in the doorway, smiling, and all he could see was that beautiful face and legs that went on forever.

  "Well damn," he said. "We match."

  She laughed. He was wearing a red shirt and jeans, too.

  "My jeans are a little shorter than yours," she said.

  "Yes, thank you, God, and your Uber awaits."

  Gracie smiled and followed him down the steps. After they’d gotten buckled up, he reached out to start the SUV, and she saw his finger. The one he'd mashed.

  "Oh my God! Your finger!"

  He glanced down. "It's a mess, isn't it, but it actually looks worse now than it feels." He started the car, backed up, and then headed down the drive and out into the street. "I'm not going to lie. I've been looking forward to this all week."

  "So have I, and I can't wait to see your home. All I've seen of Branson is the city, except for driving out to The Beef Master interview. I come from flat prairie. All of these trees and mountains and green spaces speak to my heart."

  "And you've been speaking to mine," John said, and then grinned to ease the seriousness behind his words.

  Gracie gave him a side-eye. "Mama always said watch out for those sweet-talking men."

  "Nothing but the truth," he countered.

  Gracie laughed. She was excited, and anxious. This was more than nightly phone conversations, and she already knew she wanted more than a phone-a-friend.

  As they drove, John pointed out the hiking trails, the signs leading to Table Rock Lake, and the different hotels in the area. When they passed The Beef Master Grill, it wasn't mentioned. For Gracie, it was mostly a case of been there, done that, and didn't need a t-shirt to prove it.

  Traffic was heavier than she had expected, but it moved along at a steady pace. And then all of a sudden, John was turning from the main road onto blacktop leading up into the trees.

  "This is all mine," John said. "Ten acres, including the house, and the property all the way down the shore to the lake."

  Gracie was staring, trying to take in everything at once. The birds flitting from tree to tree, and others flying across their line of vision. Something small and furry slipped beneath some underbrush as they passed, and then the two-story log home appeared, nestled among the trees as if it had grown there.

  The evening sun cast long shadows across the grounds as John drove around back and pulled up into a detached garage. He jumped out on the run, then opened Gracie's door and held out his hand.

  Gracie grasped it and got out.

  The air was still. Heat and humidity ruled. But she was used to heat, and the abundance of shade more than made up for it.

  "Welcome to my home," John said. He led her up the steps of the back deck, into the house through double French doors. "This is the Great Room. Typical of log homes like this, it's all open concept downstairs, except for a guest bathroom down the hall. The kitchen is behind you. The living area before you. And the door leading out to the front deck."

  "It's beautiful," Gracie said. "What kind of wood is this?"

  "Spruce. There are four bedrooms and three bathrooms upstairs. My folks, and my sister and her family, stay here with me on Labor Day and Christmas. They'll be coming again this year. You are officially invited."

  She smiled, eyeing the rooms and imagining them decked out in evergreens with a giant Christmas tree in the corner.

  "Really?"

  "Yes, really," John said. "Now. Let me start the grill so it can be heating, and then I want to show you upstairs. Help yourself to a cold drink from the fridge. I'll be right back."

  Gracie watched him lope out onto the back deck, before moving into the kitchen area, which was all stainless-steel appliances, rustic cabinetry, black granite countertops, and light fixtures hanging from forty-foot ceilings. It was so beautiful she couldn't quit staring. She couldn't imagine living in anything this grand, either. Then she glanced out the window over the sink.

  John was lighting the grill, so she opened the fridge, got a Coke, and popped the tab. It was cold and fizzy, and the first sip burned the back of her nose all the way down her throat, just like she liked it.

  She scooted onto a stool at one end of the island and was drinking her Coke when John came back inside. He stopped, giving himself a moment to enjoy the pleasure of seeing her in his space.

  "What?" Gracie asked.

  "Just enjoying the view," John said. "Ready to climb a few stairs? If not, there's an elevator at the end of the hall."

  "Stairs are fine with me," Gracie said, and as they were walking up the staircase, she paused halfway up, to look back at the view below. "It’s even bigger from this perspective."

  "I don't clean it," John said. "I have a good cleaning service who keeps it up for me. I do good to get my dishes in the dishwasher and my laundry done."

  Gracie nodded. "I wouldn't argue with a cleaning service either if my house was this big."

  John smiled. "Mom gives me grief about it, but she's also irked that at thirty-five, I am still single, too."

  Gracie nodded. "Once Mama forgot she ever had kids, the scolding stopped, but she would have had a fit if she'd known about my brother cheating on his wife."

  "Yikes," John said.

  She grimaced. "That's not what Darlene said when she found out. She's a sweetheart. James is a self-centered ass, and I'm sorry I dragged my sordid family into this wonderful evening. Show me the upstairs, please."

  "Not sordid. Just a typical family," John said. "Besides, there's you. You make up for a whole lot of other people's mistakes."

  Gracie let the compliment soak in, and then set it aside for when she needed to remember she mattered, and someone cared.

  "Here we are," John said, and began moving through the upper hall, opening doors, pointing out special features, working his way down to the master.

  Gracie stepped across the threshold, then stopped just inside the door, staring in disbelief at the height and the size of the bed.

  "Oh my lord! I have never seen a bed that big in my entire life," Gracie said.

  John grinned. "It came with the house. It's a pain in the butt to make. But take a look at the view from my bedroom windows."

  Gracie looked out. "Is that
the lake?"

  "Yes, an arm of it. We're high enough up to see a bit of it through the trees."

  Gracie stood in silence for a few moments and then turned.

  "I'll bet this place is gorgeous when it snows."

  He nodded.

  "I'd like to see that," she said.

  "Then consider it done. First snow, I'm coming to get you."

  Gracie's eyes widened. "Promise?"

  "Absolutely," John said. "Now, let's go doctor up some steaks and get them on the grill. Are you hungry?"

  "I'm starving," Gracie said.

  He remembered the day he'd first seen her in the Hard Luck. How she'd picked up that burger with both hands and taken that big bite right down the middle.

  "Awesome. So am I."

  After that, whatever uneasiness Gracie had come in with was gone.

  John kept up a running commentary as he first put steaks in to marinate and then potatoes in a convection oven to bake.

  Gracie noticed he was favoring his finger, and when he began trying to cut up raw veggies for a salad, she gently took the knife from his hand.

  "Let me," she said, then scooted him aside.

  John stood there a moment, and then leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  "Thank you, Gracie."

  She smiled. "Of course."

  He sat down on a barstool, watching the intensity on her face. She was truly one of the most complicated women he'd ever met, and one of the most compelling ones, as well.

  "So, tell me about work. Anything interesting happen on your first week?"

  "I went to lunch with Reba the other day. She's one of the girls who works at the Majestic. We went to Subway, and while we were there, there was a big wreck on the street out front."

  "I saw that!" John said. "It was a mess. If I'd known you were inside, we could have spent a little time together."

  Gracie dumped a handful of bell pepper slices on top of the lettuce in the salad bowl and then reached for tomatoes.

  "As it turns out, a diner began choking on a bite of food while everyone was standing at the windows checking out the wreck. I saw him choking, did the Heimlich, and out popped a piece of bread."

  "Gracie! You saved his life?"

  "Someone else probably would have seen it, too, but nearly everyone was watching the fire department trying to cut one of the victims out of the wreck. By the time he was breathing again, his blood pressure was too high, so they called an ambulance for him, too. After all that commotion, Reba and I wound up eating in the car at a nearby park."

  "You're amazing, lady. Is there anything you can't do?"

  A tomato squished beneath the knife as she was trying to quarter it.

  "It appears I cannot cut up tomatoes without making a mess," she said, and grabbed a couple of paper towels. "Is this enough salad?"

  "I'd say yes," John said. "You can put it in the fridge for now. I'm going to put the steaks on the grill. The potatoes have another fifteen minutes or so, and the steaks will have to rest after they're done. I think our timing is good. Grab your Coke and come outside with me."

  Gracie followed, then sat in a nearby chair to watch him cook. The air was warm and sticky, but there was just enough of a faint breeze slipping through the trees to keep her hoping for more.

  She held the can of Coke against her neck, savoring the cold against her skin, then took another drink.

  The meat sizzled and smoked as John laid it on the grill. When the juices began dripping, flames flared upward.

  Gracie inhaled, relishing the scents and the company, then looked off toward the lake just visible through the trees.

  Back home, she would have been sitting out on the back porch in the wind and the heat, maybe throwing a rock at the curious coyote or dodging a rattler. There wouldn't have been steak. And she would have been alone.

  The tragedy of being the one left behind was having to find a new life in which to live. Nothing worked like from before. The rules were new. And Gracie was still finding her way.

  She was sitting now with her feet up on the railing, her long legs stretched out, watching the end to this day. Birds were coming into roost, while other night creatures began to prowl. It was a little piece of heaven.

  "Oh look!" she said, as a huge owl took flight from a nearby tree. "We had an owl in our old barn. He roosted in there during the day and came out at night to hunt the prairie."

  John caught a glimpse of it, and then turned, saw her legs stretched out and her feet propped up on the railing, thought about them locked around his waist, and him deep inside her. At that point, he took a deep breath and looked away.

  "Do you miss it? Home, I mean?"

  She shrugged. "I don't have a home anymore. James inherited the ranch. I don't belong anywhere yet... But Missouri suits me, and I think I'm getting there."

  You're going to belong to me.

  John knew it. But he didn't say it.

  The minutes passed as he turned the steaks, while Gracie watched the changing expressions on his face. Men weren't supposed to be beautiful, but in her eyes, he was.

  Maybe it had something to do with the deliberate gracefulness of his movements, and that profile of his face.

  "John?"

  "Hmmmm?"

  "Do you have any Native American heritage in your family?"

  He paused, then turned, the tongs still in his hand.

  "Why do you ask?"

  "I see it in your face. In your profile most of all. Without the intention of giving you the big head, it's quite stunning."

  He grinned. "Dad's people are part Choctaw. So, you're saying I'm good looking?"

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Lord. I have created a bit of a monster."

  He threw back his head and laughed, and she pointed to the grill.

  "I like my steak medium."

  "Oh, yeah. Steaks!" he said, and began taking them off the grill and putting them onto the platter.

  Chapter Seventeen

  John carried the steaks into the house.

  A few minutes later, they had a mini buffet laid out at the bar and were sitting across from each other, eating and talking about nothing in particular.

  Gracie was in heaven. After a week of telephone conversations, spending real time with John was the best. And, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had steak. The whole evening was her best ever in a long, long time.

  "Is the steak done to your liking?" John asked.

  Gracie nodded. "Yes, thank you. You are a master at grilling."

  "And I'm pretty, too," he said.

  She waved her fork at him.

  "Now you are a man fishing for compliments. I have given you two tonight. Don't be greedy."

  John grinned. The woman delighted him in a thousand ways, but her dry wit and quirky sense of humor might be the best part about her—that and those legs.

  "You do know you are bewitching, don't you? I'm already lost," he said.

  Gracie paused. "Don't worry. I am really good at finding lost people," and then took another bite.

  "Like your mother?"

  She nodded. "Yes. She managed to lose herself more than once. But I found her before much harm was done."

  "Do you ever get lost?" he asked.

  She glanced up. He was no longer smiling. She laid down her fork and took a drink.

  "I'm trying hard not to be," she said.

  "If you do, I'm a really good tracker."

  Suddenly, Gracie's eyes welled, and John reached across the bar and took her hand.

  "I didn't mean to make you sad."

  Gracie shook her head. "Not sad. Just not used to having anyone for backup."

  He gave her fingers a quick squeeze.

  "Whether you like it or not, whether you want it or not, you are already a fixture in my life. I adore you, Gracie Dunham. You are a formidable, amazing woman. I won't push. But I'm not a man good at pretending. I dream about you. I think about you at the most random moments of the day. You are under my skin." Then
he sighed. "If that just scared the shit out of you, I'll back off and never say another word. I'll take being 'just a friend' over losing you."

  Gracie didn't hesitate. "I don't scare easily. Don't back off. I have been alone in a house with a crazy woman for the last nine years of my life. So, if you want the task of putting up with me and whatever comes with that, then I'm in."

  John tugged on her hand.

  She ceded to the urging, circled the bar, and walked into his arms.

  "You give the best hugs," she said.

  "I've got more to give," he said.

  She slipped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes.

  The kiss was perfect—just like him.

  It went on until both of them were breathless and shaken just enough to know where they were. It was stop now, or there'd be no turning back. And so they stopped, and when they did, John pulled her close.

  "Lord have mercy, woman."

  Gracie sighed. "I knew it would be like this."

  He cupped her face, rubbing his thumb along the edge of her lower lip.

  "Like what, darlin'?"

  "Like standing too close to the fire. One step more, and we go up in flames."

  "Oh, we will combust, but not today," John said, then gave her a quick hug before letting her go.

  He glanced at the time. "Come out on the deck with me for a while. The night is beautiful here."

  She followed him outside, then settled down beside him in a two-seat glider. The moment she looked up at the sky, she saw the same constellation that she'd always seen back home, and something anchored within her.

  Those stars—those constellations—they never moved. They never got lost. No matter where she went, they would always be with her.

  John put his arm around her and pulled her closer. Her head was on his shoulder when the first deer came out of the woods, and within moments, a second followed.

  She stilled.

  John knew she'd seen them.

  And so they sat, mute and motionless, watching them graze across the back of John's property, until they finally disappeared into the trees.

  "They were so beautiful," Gracie said. "Thank you for this. For the food and everything else about this evening. It was perfect."