Grace

“Dinner is served.”

I set down the bowl of chicken and vegetable stew in the middle of the coffee table. A cloud of steam rises from it, laced with the aroma of onions, carrots and celery. As it drifts into my nostrils, my mouth waters.

“Smells good,” Travis agrees as he picks up a spoon. “But let’s see how it tastes.”

“Yes, let’s.”

I scoop a portion of the stew into his bowl with the ladle, then scoop another into mine before sitting down on the couch.

“Remind me again why we don’t eat in the dining room regularly,” I tell him.

“Because the table is too big,” he answers as he blows the top of the stew.

I look at the TV on the wall. “And remind me again why our TV doesn’t work.”

Travis shrugs and lifts a spoonful of the stew to his lips. “Does it matter? You never liked it anyway.”

He places the spoon inside his mouth.

“I have to say you do know how to cook now.”

I lean forward and grab my own spoon. “I wonder what else I know how to do now.”

Travis gives another shrug as he eats another spoonful.

“What else was I bad at before?” I ask him as I eat my first and raise my eyebrows at the taste. “This is good.”

“I can’t remember,” he answers.

I glance at my shirt. “I thought I was good with clothes.”

Travis turns to me with creased eyebrows. “What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s…” I pause as I try to think of a word. “Too plain and not really my color.”

“You don’t like red. You don’t like purple. What color do you like now?”

“It’s not that I don’t like red.” I glance at the armchair. “Just not that shade. I guess I like blue, like my eyes, and ochre.”

His eyebrows go up. “O-what?”

“Ochre,” I repeat. “And black. You can pair a lot of things with black.”

“Well, I’m sorry you didn’t have good fashion sense before,” he says as he continues eating.

I glance at him. There he goes with that annoyed expression again.

I eat a slice of carrot, then grab a table napkin to wipe the soup that trickles from the corner of my mouth.

“Did we… get along?” I ask warily.

He nods, too busy with his food to speak.

“Because it just seems like you don’t like me that much.”

He grabs a table napkin as well and wipes his mouth. “What makes you say that?”

I shrug.

I don’t really know why I’m getting that feeling. Maybe because he’s not as affectionate as I wish he was?

“What do we do… for fun?” I ask.

“Nothing much. We just talk, snuggle in front of the fire. Or we’d ride around the property.”

Okay. Those don’t sound too bad.

“Do we have sex a lot?” I blurt out.

He coughs as he almost chokes on his stew.

“Sorry,” I apologize quickly.

What was I thinking asking him that question?

He continues coughing with his hand on his chest.

“Let me go get you a glass of water.”

I rush into the kitchen to fill a glass with water. When I return, I try to hand it to him, but our hands clash and the water spills on his shirt.

“Shit,” I mutter.

Why am I so clumsy?

“I’ll get a paper towel.”

“No.” Travis shakes his head before gulping down half of the water. “It’s okay.”

He stands up and pulls his shirt over his head. As he does, I become privy to his naked torso for the first time, and my breath catches as I see his ripped, broad chest and his sculpted abdomen. My heart skips a beat and a flurry of heat travels down my lower body.

I knew Travis was hot, but I didn’t think he was this hot!

Am I really married to this man? Have I really touched that body?

I feel the urge to touch him now, but I resist. Instead, I sit down and look away.

“To answer your question, I don’t really know what a lot is,” Travis says. “But we have sex whenever you’re in the mood for it.”

Me? What about him?

I decide not to ask, though. All this talk of sex is suddenly making me uncomfortable.

As I try to think of a way to change the subject, my gaze falls on what looks like a trophy on the shelf.

“Is that yours?” I point to it.

“No.” He sits down. “It’s my… father’s.”

Suddenly, I’m reminded of my own father. I still can’t believe I’ll never hear his weird laugh again or listen to him crooning out country ballads or see him dancing with Mom in the kitchen.

Oh, what I’d give to see him again.

I turn to Travis. “Do you think I can see my parents’ graves? And Katie’s?”

His eyebrows crease. “Katie?”

“My younger sister.”

“Oh.”

How could he forget that?

“Well, can I visit their graves? I just… want to feel them close to me again, I guess, and maybe get some closure at the same time.”

Travis nods. “I’ll see what I can do.”

~

A twig snaps beneath my feet and I pause. A leaf cascades down from a branch above my head.

I keep going so that I don’t get left behind by Travis and Toby, who are already several feet ahead on the trail that winds through the woods. A breeze sweeps the strands of my hair across my face and I brush them aside. A yellow butterfly flutters across me.

I would usually smile at the sight of it, but I’m in a solemn mood. I might as well be in a funeral procession, all in black and on my way to see the graves of my family.

A pink wildflower catches my eye and I kneel down to pick it.

Pink was Katie’s favorite color, so I’m sure she’ll like this one.

“Grace,” Travis calls my name.

I nod and stand up, then pick up the pace after him, still holding the lone flower in my hand.

I should have bought flowers—sunflowers like Mom loved, and carnations, which were Katie’s favorite—but I guess this will have to do. What matters is that I’m visiting them, that I’m remembering them. That’s what Dad would have said, anyway.

I try to remember more of them as I walk along the trail—the Christmas mornings I spent with them, all simple yet magical, the family trips we took, like the one to Disneyland and the one to Yosemite, the times we simply watched movies in our living room or had dinner together in our dining room.

Fun times. And wonderful memories.

Come to think of it, I’m glad they’re not the ones that were taken from me.

Finally, Travis stops. I stand beside him and a lump forms in my throat as I gaze at the sea of graves in what looks like a makeshift cemetery. Rows of mounds rise up from the ground, marked with crosses made of sticks and strings and nothing else.

“Are these all the people who used to live in Hope Creek?” I ask Travis.

He nods.

“Why isn’t there a proper cemetery? Why aren’t the graves marked?”

“The people didn’t see the need,” he explains. “Those who have died live on in our hearts, not under the ground. That’s what they said. And as for the unmarked graves, well, everyone knows their names. Besides, everyone comes here to mourn for everyone, not just those close to them.”

I understand, I guess.

“But my parents’ and Katie’s graves are here?”

Travis nods.

I kneel down and set the pink flower down on top of the smallest mound. Then I close my eyes and clasp my hands to my chest.

I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace, Mom, Dad, Katie. Don’t worry about me. I’m alright. I…

“Toby!” Travis’s voice breaks into my thoughts.

I open my eyes and see him chasing after his dog, which seems to have run off.

I close my eyes again and continue praying.

I can take care of myself now. And Travis takes care of me. I still can’t believe I got hitched to someone like him. I don’t even know if you’ve met him or you were there at my wedding, but if you’re watching over me—and I’m sure you are—I know that you can see he’s a good man. He’s a jerk sometimes, sure, but he’s funny and sweet and hardworking and…

“I wish they were still alive,” a voice interrupts my prayer once more.

I turn my head and see an old woman standing over the graves. Sadness brims in her eyes.

“Yes,” I agree as I look at the flower I’ve put down. “If only that accident didn’t happen.”

“Accident?” She gives me a look of surprise and shakes her head.

I throw her a puzzled look. “What I mean is my parents and my younger sister—”

“It was no accident.” She shakes her head again. “The good Lord took them all, even the innocent little ones, even the helpless newborns.”

Newborns?

I walk towards her, about to ask her a few things about Hope Creek, but suddenly I hear the thunder of an explosion. The sound is so loud I clasp my hands over my ears as I go back on my knees. Afterwards, I look at the sky and see a pillar of smoke in the distance.

“Shit!” Travis mutters as he reappears a few feet away.

He touches my arm. “Go back to the house with Toby.”

Then, without a word of explanation, he runs off. I turn my head and see the old woman who was talking to me running off as well. I go over to Toby and kneel beside him as I stroke his fur.

What the hell is going on?