Missing Grace

by S. L. Scott

  Maybe he shouldn’t be, but he didn’t care if it was wrong. She was his Grace and it felt right. She felt right. Instead of turning away, like he thought she would, she surprised him and leaned further into his touch. It was as if she couldn’t see him with her eyes, but her body knew to respond to him. To . . . accept him.

  “I can’t do this here,” she whispered before she closed her eyes and her expression faltered, creasing her fine features. “It would hurt Hunter.” Her eyes bolted open and she looked at him, and started to back away. Just far enough to keep distance between them, she said, “I need to get back . . . get back to Hunter. He’ll be looking for me.”

  It was too soon. He couldn’t bear her moving away from him. The words flew from his mouth without thought to what he was saying. “Meet me at the fountain in Grant Park, tomorrow at noon.” Could she hear the urgency in his voice? It didn’t matter because that’s how he felt. Urgent. He needed to see her and refused to walk away without setting up a meeting. He needed to show her photos of them together, so she would know in her heart and mind that she was his.

  “Okay.” She was walking away, but relief washed over him because she had agreed. Looking back over her shoulder, she added, “I’ll see you then, Ben.”

  Ben.

  He’d been introduced as Benjamin, but she knew. He hadn’t heard his name said sweeter since the night before she left. As soon as she rounded the corner, out of sight, he closed his eyes and collapsed against the wall behind him feeling lighter than he’d felt in years. Finally. Finally.

  He had found his Grace.

  4

  Ben Edwards

  Ben’s leg seemed to have a mind of its own, as it bounced up and down at rapid speed. He looked at his watch for the twentieth time in the last minute as doubts consumed him. Was she going to show or would she back out? She said she couldn’t do “this” at the party. What did “this” mean anyway? Talk? She couldn’t talk to me at the party? He was driving himself insane with worry.

  “Hello, Ben,” an angel’s voice called.

  He stood abruptly when he saw Grace standing in front of him, like sunshine in a yellow dress. Tightening her blue sweater over her arms, she appeared unsure of herself under his stare. But he couldn’t help it. It had been three long years since he’d looked at her face to face. He still questioned whether she was even real. Six inches separated their mouths in height, but more than three feet separated them in distance. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other then glanced nervously over her shoulder.

  “Grace.”

  “It’s Jane.”

  Although he was hurt by the correction, he saw she didn’t mean to snap at him. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be,” she said softly. “There seems to be some confusion. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Would you like to take a walk?” he asked, hoping that would help put them both at ease.

  “Sure.”

  Kids were splashing nearby, people taking pictures, and strolling around the fountain, but that didn’t stop Ben from feeling like it was only them in that moment. Grace stole a glimpse of him that he caught before they headed away from the fountain.

  Ben stayed close to her side as she confessed, “Hunter didn’t want me talking to you.”

  “Does he know you’re meeting me today?”

  “No. He just called you a loon at the dinner and told me to steer clear from you.” He saw lightness in her expression as she smiled to herself, but the doctor’s comment still pissed him off.

  “But you came anyway?”

  “I had to. Knowing what I know, I had to.” She scanned the park as she said, “I was in an accident just over three years ago.”

  Ben stopped. He stopped walking, and he stopped breathing. The question stumbled out without permission, his thoughts exposed to her, “An accident?”

  “I was hit by a cab while crossing the street. The driver was apparently texting at the time. According to witnesses, the crosswalk sign lit up, signaling me to walk. I was juggling a coffee, my purse, and a roller bag, and the wheels weren’t cooperating. It was bad timing between two people not paying attention to the world around them.”

  Feeling at ease, like time had been rewound, he spoke to her like they had never been apart. “You were in an accident . . .” he said as if trying to comprehend the revelation. She didn’t leave me.

  “Yes,” she replied, walking again with her hands tucked into the pockets of her dress. When he joined her side, she turned her gaze to the ground in front of her. “I have amnesia, Ben. I don’t remember anything before the accident.”

  “Nothing?”

  “No.” How is that possible? How had she not had any form of identification on her? She always had her driver’s license on her, not to mention credit cards and a medical card. So many questions stormed his mind, but he saw her confusion, and knew he couldn’t demand much-needed answers from her. Yet.

  He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes. Relief washed over him as if his search for her had been justified. She’d been honest last night when she said she didn’t know him. She didn’t remember him. She remembered nothing but still called him Ben, even after being introduced as Benjamin at the awards dinner. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. “I knew you were Grace the second I laid eyes on you.”

  “You’re the only person to recognize me. I’m worried.” This time, she didn’t shy away. She stared directly into his eyes, and asked, “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? I need more information than a name I can’t remember. Why should I trust you?”

  The sun felt hotter under her questioning gaze. He shook his head as his voice lowered to a somber tone, struggling to hold back the feelings he still had for her. “I would never lie to you. I never have.”

  “I don’t know that though, do I?”

  He laughed but found no humor in her words. They hurt. He gulped before responding, “I guess you don’t, but I need you to understand that I’m not a malicious person. I have no reason to lie to you. I can prove who you are, were, are . . .” He struggled to cope with this new information, as it dredged up all kinds of emotions he had attempted to bury. He reached to touch her, but dropped his hand back down and tucked it in his pocket. It was too soon for that, though touching her, kissing her, loving her was all he wanted to do.

  She moved the conversation along by asking, “Ben, what is my last name?”

  They started strolling again, each of them keeping a safe and yet close proximity to each other. “Stevens.”

  “Grace Stevens?”

  “Grace Elizabeth Stevens.” He wanted to say Edwards. Edwards had a rightful place tacked on to the end of that name, but it was never made official, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her, or worse, scare her.

  “That’s a pretty name,” she said, seeming to like her real moniker.

  She made him smile. “It’s a very pretty name.”

  “You said you have proof?”

  “Yes, I brought pictures with me. They’re on my phone.” Ben dug his phone out of his pocket and flipped through the gallery until he found one of just her from the night they celebrated her promotion.

  He turned the phone screen, shielding it from the sun so she could see the picture clearly. She gasped and threw her hand over her mouth as she obviously recognized herself in the photo. Taking a step away from the phone, tears filled her eyes. She took a deep breath, and then pointed in disbelief. “Th-th-that’s me.”

  Her face was hidden as she covered it with her hands, and started to cry. He didn’t stop the tears that had been threatening his own eyes for the last five minutes, so as they hit the pavement, he went to her. He couldn’t stand seeing her cry and not comfort or hold her. His heart hurt when her heart hurt. It always had. His sweet Grace. This must be such a huge shock for her. Both to wake up daily not knowing any of your history, and then finding someone who knew the real you. He couldn’t take her pain or her tears. He gave in and did what felt
natural, pulling her into his arms while murmuring, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Shhhh. I’m here. I’m here now, Grace.”

  He felt her cringe as he said her name. That was just another shot to the heart, but he knew it was only because she wasn’t used to it, but when he said, “Grace,” again, the name became a trigger, her arms breaking her free from the confines of his. “Don’t call me that. My name is Jane.” Looking frantically around without a clear destination in mind, she ran.

  “Grace. I mean, Jane. Please! Stop!” Running after her, he easily caught up. “Please, don’t leave me,” he begged as tears trailed down his face. “I can’t bear it if you leave again.”

  Grace stopped, her sobs breaking through, wracking her body. He wanted to hold her again, to take away any pain. It had felt heavenly to have her in his arms, but he knew she would run again, so he summoned every ounce of strength to not touch her.

  She turned and looked back at him. “You know me. The real me. But who are you?”

  “I’m Ben Edwards.” He left off the additional information like, he was the love of her life, the man who had searched tirelessly for her for more than three years, and the man desperate to spend the rest of his life loving a woman he didn’t think he’d ever get to hold again, much less talk to. He wanted to kiss her tears away like he’d always done, but he restrained himself. It pained him to resist holding her, but he knew she wasn’t ready.

  Right now was about her. She needed time to process this information, not be attacked because he loved her so vehemently and needed to feel her in his arms again. “We grew up together. We were best friends,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. Just giving her the facts.

  “So you know my family?” she asked, the tears still present, reminding him so much of the last morning he saw her back home.

  Her mind was probably spinning with questions, so he set his own needs aside, and let her take the lead. “I know them very well.”

  Her body seemed to buckle under his words, and she cried while bent over.

  Ben’s fingers touched her back lightly and that seemed to be the catalyst for her. She threw herself into his arms this time accepting him and wrapped her own around him. Three years. He had held hope and waited for three years. And she was in his arms.

  “I want to see them. I want to know them. Ben, will you help me?” she asked, looking up at him from where she rested against his chest.

  “Yes. Yes. I’ll give you everything back. All your memories and your life.”

  Her head lowered, but her cheek remained pressed to his chest. He held her this time for both of them, and whispered, “You were so loved. You are so loved. You are loved more than you can imagine.”

  When the phone in her purse beeped she stepped back, and he caught a glimpse of panic in her eyes. “I have to go, but I need to know more. I’ve felt so confused about my past, and can’t believe I might finally get some answers. When can I see you again?” Ben had missed looking into those eyes. His memories and photos didn’t do them justice. Maybe it was because he was seeing them in person again, and he would take tear-filled to the absence of them any day. Deep down, he believed he could relieve those tears and the pain she felt. It must have been so lonely for her, to not know anything about her past. Who she was. If she had family. Friends. A job.

  “When can you meet next? Later?” he asked. “I’ll be there—anytime, anyplace. Just name it.”

  “I, um, I’m not sure. I have a meeting with the caterers right now and then I have my personal trainer. Ugh! Then there’s a dinner I agreed to go to weeks ago. I’m sorry. I can’t meet again today, but I’ll move some things around. Can we meet here tomorrow at the same time?”

  “Caterers for the wedding?” She was engaged and planning her wedding—to the dark-haired Dr. Chicago Under Forty. This realization was another punch to the gut, winding him.

  She had been engaged to him in another life, but now she was marrying someone else in this one. In the last twenty-four hours, she had come back into his life. Sure, she was engaged, but wasn’t that supposed to change now that she knew the truth? Wasn’t she supposed to remember the love they shared? Ben didn’t know what to expect when he told her she had a life back home (with him), but he could acknowledge he thought she’d be single, as if waiting for him.

  Although, to assume that, was he being hypocritical? He had Rebecca. And Grace was a beautiful woman. Of course someone would see her and want her.

  Last night he thought he’d had a chance. She wasn’t married. For some reason though, in the harshness of the daylight hours, he realized that she was getting married and this discovery and pain would be for nothing. Feeling agitated by this prospect, he changed the topic. “Why do you have a personal trainer?”

  “Being a physician, Hunter likes us to stay in shape.”

  “You were perfect as you were. You’re more stunning than ever, but you were already perfect.”

  He knew he’d given himself away by saying that, but he meant every word. As he watched her tears dry, he felt their connection slowly reestablishing itself.

  “I need to ask you something else, Ben.”

  “Anything.”

  “Were we ever more than just friends?”

  It was obvious. He wore his heart on his sleeve as if the shirt designer intended it to be exposed. Ben knew too much, or at least, more than a friend might know. When he didn’t respond right away because of the debate warring in his head, she looked at her watch and took a step backward. “I have to go. I’m already late.” But before she dragged herself away, she stopped and looked up into his eyes as if seeking the truth.

  “We were more than friends, weren’t we?”

  That ended the debate. Why protect her from the truth? The truth, in its own form, could be the catalyst to set her free. So he looked straight at her, and neither his stance nor voice wavered. “Yes.”

  5

  Ben Edwards

  Grace has amnesia.

  The situation was not what he expected, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Grace has amnesia.

  No matter how many times the words crossed his mind, he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around them. She’d been living a new life for the last three years, a life that had seemed to make her happy.

  Was she happy? Really happy? Happy like she was with me?

  He rubbed the heel of his palms roughly against his closed lids, trying to determine a resolution. His heart had found its other half and wasn’t willing to let go again. Of that, he was positive. He could show her their life in pictures because he had their life chronicled through photographs right there on his computer at home. Grace would get her family back. She could experience all the love that everyone had for her, especially the love he still had for her. They could be married. Finally.

  But that was his heart. His head told him she loved Dr. Hunter Barnes. He knew how Grace loved—fiercely. So, to be engaged to him, she must be in love with him. That obstacle he never saw coming. She had built a life here in Chicago and probably wasn’t hopping on a plane with him anytime soon to go back to Seattle. She didn’t even know about their life in Seattle.

  Another harsh realization, though it made him feel ill, was that she didn’t know him anymore. She wasn’t in love with him anymore. And he doubted she’d throw her current life away to come start, or finish, a life with him.

  Had it been too long? Had too much time passed? Was it too late? Or maybe, was he just in time?

  The pestering questions ate at him and he hadn’t noticed what hour it was or that everybody had already left for the day. He looked out the window of his corner office and watched as the sun set in the distance, the view slightly obstructed by another high-rise. Metaphorically, his view reflected his current situation.

  Gathering his stuff and closing down his computer, he switched the lights off as he left the office. When he unlocked his apartment, he sighed in discontent. His place was barren, as if someone had just moved in or was in the process of moving out
. The brown leather couch sat against one wall with a coffee table in front of it and a flat-screen hanging on the opposing wall. The bookcase to the side of the TV held a small collection of books on one shelf, but the rest were still empty. His bedroom had even less in it with just a large unmade bed and a dresser. No art on the wall and no knickknacks. A desk on the other side of the TV was where he spent most nights. Two stools at the kitchen bar finished off the room. Furniture, but not stuff, no real personal belongings made this space where he lived. Home was where Gra . . .

  In the apartment, though, there was one thing that stood out, one thing prominently set apart from the bland and desolate. The framed picture of Ben’s family on the desk. It was a picture of his parents, his sister, himself, and Grace. They had already taken the standard perfectly posed, smiling picture before this one. This photograph was the silly outtake. After looking over the funny faces of his family for the millionth time, his eyes landed on Grace who had taken that exact opportunity to kiss him on the cheek. So, as he stuck his tongue out and winked at the camera, his love had her lips pressed to his skin. They held hands, and the depth of emotion emanated from the paper and through the frame, filling the room and his heart with heaviness. They’d been so in love. So happy.

  The picture was the main reason Rebecca rarely stayed at his place. Who could blame her? It was like a shrine. A shrine to love.

  He knew what he had to do. Ultimately, he had never committed to a life in Chicago. He’d never put down roots or invested in anything of value or anyone, not even Rebecca . . . And she knew that from the beginning.

  At a coffee shop downtown, Ben hadn’t noticed the woman, lost in his own thoughts as usual, until she leaned over. “May I borrow your sugar?”