by Sarah Pawley
As she neared the bottom of the stairs, she heard a loud snore coming from somewhere in the living room, and she smiled. So it was just as he'd predicted. Alice had banished him to the sofa after their argument. She couldn’t help but be amused, and her curiosity drew her quietly toward the source of the noise.
She found him lying there on his back, his mouth agape as he snored. One hand rested on his chest. The other hung down, nearly touching the carpet. One leg was bent, and one was straight. Most of the blanket covering him was on the floor. She shook her head as she looked at him, taking up the blanket to spread it over him.
He suddenly gave a jolt, as if electrocuted. With a cry of terror he jolted up, eyes wide with fear, his breath coming fast. He looked around as if not knowing where he was.
Grace jumped back in shock, standing away from him for several long moments. This was no waking from a bad dream, or anything of that sort. She had seen pure madness in his eyes.
"Are you all right?"
For another moment he was silent, still wide-eyed. But the calm and clarity had started to come back, and to her question he nodded.
"It's just an old reflex.” As he sat up fully, straightening his shirt and smoothing his hair, he seemed to calm.
As he became at ease, so did she. And yet, she was rather upset with him for scaring her so, even if it was not intentional. And she scolded him.
"Lord, Jack, you nearly scared the pee out of me." She sat down beside him. "What was that about, anyway?"
He sighed. "A battle scar." He sat for several moments, lost in thought, running a hand across his weary face.
"From the war?"
He was silent, but after a moment he nodded his head.
There was a note of caution in her voice. “Jack, how come you and Henry are so different about the war? You seem so settled most of the time, so calm...well, except for what just happened. But you seem so happy. And Henry seems so…I don’t know. Broken, I guess. Even though he’s pretty good at hiding it.”
At the mention of Henry, Jack turned to look at her with an expression both curious and dark. "How would you know about Henry's problems?"
She shrugged. "I talked to him a little last night.” She knew he wouldn’t be happy to hear that, but it seemed that his fatherly concerns didn’t affect her as they once had. And yet she loved him as much as ever, and had no wish to rub salt in his wounds, even when he was chastising her like now.
“So that's where you were, out on the town with that crumb."
"Don't be ugly like that. And why are you so hateful about him now? I thought you were good friends?"
"We were until last night. Until he started sniffing around you. Now I have to treat him like any other mangy mongrel." He leaned back against the cushions, letting his head come to rest on the edge of the sofa. He smiled and chuckled as a memory came to him.
"Remember when Mama shot that old hound of ours for sniffing around the hens and stealing eggs?" He glanced at her, seeing her nod. "Maybe I should do that to Henry...That danged old dog.”
She rolled her eyes. But she wouldn’t let his friction with Henry deter her from the subject. “So why do you figure he’s like he is? You both went through the same war, didn’t you?”
Once more he was silent, seeming to think deep thoughts, but she didn’t push for an answer. She knew her kind of questioning had to be approached gingerly, for the subject was such a sensitive one it bordered on being explosive. At long last he spoke to her.
“I was just lucky, baby sister. If there’s such a thing as luck when you’re in hell. And Henry spent a longer time in it than I did. So maybe that’s why he is the way he is. But then you’ve got to figure what happened when he came home. I found my little honey when I got back, and his ran out on him.”
She sighed sadly, thinking of the woman who had once broken Henry’s heart.
“I almost forgot about Mary.”
Despite the fact that Jack thought ill of his old friend, Grace couldn’t share in his animosity. At one time, maybe she could have. But now, her heart almost ached for him. “I reckon you don’t believe it, but I figure he’s pretty lonesome, and that’s why he acts like he does.”
Jack made a cynical noise. "So just because a man is lonesome, that means he should shack up with any pretty gal that comes along? Remember what I told you about his women?”
"But what difference does that make to me? I'm not one of them, and I don't plan on being one."
"I hope not," he declared. He leaned forward, running a hand over his face. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'd rather talk about breakfast, if you don't mind. I'm starving."
She suddenly remembered what Alice had told her.
“I almost forgot, Alice said she had something special for you for breakfast. What do you reckon she’s making?”
The look on his face puzzled her. He almost seemed troubled.
“What’s that look for?” she asked.
But he just shook his head. “It’s nothing. Never mind.”
He rose to his feet, following her, and they found the kitchen quiet and empty. While he sat at the table to wait, she went to the coffee pot and started fixing it.
“Do you suppose she’ll mind if I make you some coffee?”
He only shrugged, letting out a sigh, and she could tell in his tone he was not happy. She couldn’t speak for him, but she guessed he was none too pleased being at odds with his wife. And it was understandable, considering how well they usually got on.
At times, she’d been fascinated watching the two of them together. Even in the presence of other people they were open and loving, though restrained somewhat when being observed. It seemed they always needed to touch in some way, even if it was just the way one would bump the shoulder of the other. When standing together, they were always much closer than they should have been, and quite often she’d seen their fingers intertwining. Even when helping each other in some little task, they were always smiling and whispering with each other. But it was the unguarded times, when they thought no one was looking…those were the moments she found quite beautiful and moving. They liked to hold each other close, sometimes kissing softly and other times just looking in each others eyes and speaking in whispers. It was a deep, profound love they had for each other, and she could see how Jack would be in pain at the loss.
There came the sound of footsteps on the stairs in the hall, and she righted her expression, pretending to focus on the coffee. Alice came in, and Grace saw how she walked right past Jack and neither of them said a word to each other. But when Alice came to stand beside her, there was a smile on her face.
“Oh good, you made coffee. I’m dying for a cup.”
“I could use one over here,” said Jack. “And are we cooking something or not? I need to get to work in a little while.”
She looked at Alice, seeing the slight sneer on her lip as she poured a cup of coffee for herself. Grace wondered…if she was so daring as to take a cup to Jack, would Alice be upset?
But it seemed her sister-in-law was occupied with her own thoughts. Grace watched, curious, as Alice opened the drawer to find a spoon. From the cabinet she took a bowl…from another cabinet she found a box of cereal. Taking them all over to Jack, she tossed them down in front of him. The bowl rattled with a noisy, almost angry sound. And Alice sneered at him.
“Eat up.”
Grace looked at Jack, who looked up at his wife with a stunned expression. She didn’t quite understand what that look was about, but if she didn’t know better, she would say he seemed hurt. She turned to Alice, who went back to retrieve her cup of coffee.
“I’m going to sit outside to get some fresh air,” she said. Taking her cup, she left to go out on the patio.
Grace looked at Jack again. He was staring at the empty cereal bowl in front of him…and then he suddenly rose to his feet.
“I have to shower and shave. I’ll wait and eat later.” He leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek, and the
n he was gone, upstairs to get ready for work.
Looking out the window, Grace saw Alice calmly sipping her coffee. After a few moments, she went out to sit with her. Almost before Grace’s bottom touched the seat, Alice started ranting.
"Do you know he didn't even apologize for all that shouting and carrying on? He just tried to crawl into bed with me last night like nothing happened."
Grace raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Is that when you kicked him out?"
Alice shook her head. "Not at first. He tried to talk to me, but I kept ignoring him. He even tried to put his arm around me, but I threw it back at him. That's when he got mad. He took his pillow and stormed out of the room."
"And that's why I found him on the couch this morning.”
Alice nodded. Then Grace saw her turn her head, a little smile on her face.
“I know you didn’t understand what the fuss was about the cereal box. But let’s just say it’s a little reminder of something from a long time ago. Yelling and screaming takes the pressure off. But sometimes, it’s the little efforts that can really get a point across, and I think I made mine this morning.” She looked down at the little watch hanging from her necklace. “I’ve got to run into town for a meeting about a library fundraiser. Do you want to come?”
Grace smiled, shaking her head. “No, I think I’ll stay here and soak up the peace and quiet. You go on and do what you need to.”
Alice returned the smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Then she left…and Grace was all alone.
It was a beautiful day out, and she considered just sitting there on the patio, enjoying the sunshine. But somehow, that didn't suit her today. What she wanted was a stroll, like the ones she used to take at home. She rose and headed for the door, but just before she got there, she paused, suddenly thinking of Henry.
What will I do if he sees me? Will I know what to say? Or will I make a fool of myself? How did I manage to keep my wits about me last night, and can I do it again?
Her head was high as she closed the door behind her. With purpose she focused her glance on anything around her…on the trees, the sky…anything other than the house across the street. At last she chose to focus strictly on the ground before her, trying to keep her mutinous eyes from looking where they longed to. She was afraid to look there, for fear that she might see him standing at the window. Or worse, she might see him on his front porch. Then he would come and speak to her, and the thought filled her with fear.
Or was it excitement?
Lately, she didn’t know if there was a difference between the two. The idea of an encounter with him made her want to run and hide. And yet, the thought of looking into his beautiful eyes, of hearing his deep and melodic voice, sent tremors of anticipation down her spine. With a strange blend of trepidation and eagerness, she came to the end of the walk, standing still for a moment. Her eyes, with a power of their own, slowly rose up to steal a glance at the house.
There was no one about. She could see no one at the windows, and both the front porch and the yard were quiet and still. She breathed both a sigh of relief, and of disappointment. The thrill and fear had no grounds now, so she turned down the walk to begin a leisurely stroll down the street.
She had no shoes on as she went. She knew it would have been a strange sight if someone were watching, to see some girl walking down the street in her bare feet. But it seemed so uncomfortable to wear shoes at every occasion, having gone without footwear for so many years of her life. She was quite aware that decorum called for shoes in certain places, but this was no place of public gathering. Who was there to offend? So she simply strolled along, liking the rough but cool feeling of the pavement against her heels and toes.
To her amazement, not a single person seemed to notice her bare feet at all. An old gentleman sitting in a rocking chair was reading his paper. He glanced up for a moment with a friendly greeting, and then went back to his news. Several boys rode past her on their bicycles without taking notice of her. A woman in her front yard, tending her flower boxes, gave her a glance. Then she smiled, going about her work.
How grand it was to be free of expectations…everyone minding their own business, just as she was minding hers. Not like home, where everyone seemed to look at her with a strange sense of curiosity and expectation.
She is seventeen, and not married, those old crows of the church had always thought. She did not have to be a mind reader to know what they were thinking, for they whispered about her in the same way they whispered about all young girls without husbands. She’ll be an old maid, bleeding her family dry of their resources. Willful and ungrateful girl.
So she might have been an old maid in their eyes. So what? As if those girls who had given up their youth for marriage were any better off. Most of them would be old women by the time they were twenty, burdened with a house full of children and a husband they were bound to for life, whether he was a good man or not. She thought of some of the women she had known in her life…how many of their men treated them like one of the animals they raised. How grateful she was to God that she had been spared such a fate.
Now, however, they had even more reason to talk ill of her, for in their eyes, she had dishonored her mother and father by being disobedient. She had abandoned her home and her family. And she was quite certain that even at this moment, most people in her hometown were condemning her wretched soul to burn in damnation.
But she did not give a hoot if they were condemning her or not. She was glad that she had broken all the rules to be here, even if it meant that her own flesh and blood might banish her from their hearts forever. She hoped and prayed it wasn’t so…that her mother and father still loved her, despite her rebelliousness. But if they chose to forget her as their daughter, she would not bear them ill will. Whatever their state of mind, hers was to love them until the day she died, as was her duty as a daughter and a true Christian.
Love me then, or hate me, as you will, she thought. You have my full and free forgiveness.
Was it not the Lord’s will that his people cherish the gift of life? Was it truly a sin to seek out joy and fulfillment in one’s time on earth? Here with Jack and Alice, she was finding something of peace in her life. Surely, this happiness was God’s doing, and what right had anyone to question that?
Before she quite knew it, she'd walked a complete circle around the block, and was soon nearing the house. As she approached, she saw a figure on the front stoop. There was something vaguely familiar about that figure…a man, dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers. It was not Henry, for this person did not have those dark features of his. The man was blond, she could see. And as she drew nearer, a sense of shock and dread began to wash over her, for her brain began to register who it was she was seeing. She stood frozen on the edge of the walk, and the man before her seemed to sense her presence, for he slowly turned to look at her. His voice was soft and pleasant.
“Hello, Gracie."
She thought she felt the world tilt a little, for she was looking at a face equally familiar and detestable.
It was Charlie Hillard standing there before her.
Chapter 15
“Friends and Foes”
Her response was instant, strong and firm.
"What are you doing here?"
He held up his hands defensively. "Gracie, please don't be mad at me for coming. Your Mama asked me to."
"Why?" she asked.
He gave her an odd look, as if the answer should have been obvious.
"She was worried about you. So was I. So was everyone. When you were gone a full day, she had the whole town looking for you. And when she heard you were here, she hoped you would change your mind in a few days and come home. But you didn't. So she asked me to come find you. We want you to come home, Gracie."
"I am home," she said, moving to pass him and go up the steps. But he lightly stepped in front of her.
"Don't run off now. At least talk to me for a few minutes. I've come all this way. Won't you
at least listen to me?"
"No," she declared. "I'm happy here. I'm not going back to Virginia, and that’s all I have to say about it."
"But you can't stay here. This isn't where you belong."
"It is now," she replied. "Go home, Charlie. Go home and find a wife who will jump when you bark and bring you a dozen sons. But I don’t want to hear about it, and I don't want to see you around here again." She went up the steps, but only got as far as the stoop before he put his hand on her arm to stop her. There was something in his touch that repulsed her, and she shook him off. But he would not go. His tone was stubborn, his eyes narrowed in determination.
"I'm not leaving until you talk to me. I want to talk about what happened between you and me."
She shook her head. "There is no you and me, Charlie. Maybe there would have been, if you had been the man I thought you were. But you're not. And that’s all I have to say about it." She turned to go in, but once again he held her arm.
"People change, Gracie. I know I said some things I shouldn't have. But I'm telling you here and now, I want to do right by you. Give me the chance to make it right."
She looked at him, seemingly so sincere. His green eyes were soft, pleading for her forgiveness. But she knew him better than he knew himself, for she had seen the other side of his personality…the one that she knew was hiding just beneath this veil of gentleness and warmth.
"Go home, Charlie," she said again, and then she turned from him and went inside, closing the door firmly behind her. She made for the living room, and was just about to sit down in a chair when she heard the door open behind her. She turned, and there he was…walking towards her. His step was not malicious, it seemed, but she was alarmed all the same. He had invaded her bubble of privacy, and her defensive instinct went on full alert.
"Get out of here, Charlie. Get out right now. If Jack finds you here, he'll kill you first and then ask questions."
"I'm not going home without you. I promised your Mama that I would bring you home, and I intend to do it. I don't want this to get nasty, so please just go on and get your things and don't fuss about it."
