Grace

I let out another sniffle as I walk down the empty sidewalks of Hope Creek.

Above me, the afternoon sun shines behind gossamer clouds amid a sea of silky blue. Around me, the leaves of the trees rustle in the breeze.

It’s a glorious afternoon, and yet no cars go up and down the streets, even though I can spot a few gathering dust on driveways. No children play in the front yards of the houses, many of which seem empty. Behind a window, a curtain parts and an old woman peeks outside but immediately retreats after our eyes meet.

Creepy.

As I pass by the school, I don’t hear the noise that usually overflows from such places. There are no kids running behind the wire fences, sliding on the slides or swinging in the swings. No kids sit on the benches chatting happily with their friends or under the trees with their headphones on or a book on their lap. No spiked shoes brush against the overgrown grass of the soccer field, but I see a mud-covered ball lying lonely in the tall blades.

I frown.

I’ve always felt that something was off about Hope Creek. I just know it has secrets. None of those concern me right now, though. The only secrets I’m interested in are my husband’s.

I pause to wipe away another tear.

Why am I crying? At first, I thought my tears were for the baby I had and lost. Then I learned I never had that baby. Like Travis said, it was his and his first wife’s.

His first wife.

My husband had a first wife and a baby.

No wonder I feel as if he doesn’t really belong with me, as if we can’t really connect with each other. Yes, there are moments when I feel the attraction. Yes, there are times when I see the spark in his eyes. But I’ve always felt like there was a wall between us.

And now, I know why.

Why didn’t Travis tell me? Or did he tell me before?

Alright. Maybe he did tell me before and I just forgot along with every other thing he’s told me throughout our marriage.

Was I okay with it then? How did I react?

I stop by the park and sit on a wooden bench as I try to imagine the scene.

Somehow, I can imagine myself being understanding, even sympathetic towards Travis. I can imagine myself settling for being second place, for being some kind of replacement, a balm on someone’s wound.

I’ve never been too confident about myself anyway. I never thought I’d catch the eye or the attention of a guy as amazing and as hot as Travis. If he showed any interest in me, I would probably have done my best to keep him, even though I’d feign disinterest at first and try not to act too clingy.

Yes, I would have settled. The old me would have.

But somehow, I feel like the new me won’t stand for it. That’s why I’m crying. I feel betrayed, deprived of something. I feel… jealous, hurt.

And it’s not simply because Travis had a wife and a baby before me. It’s because he still loves them. That room is proof of it. It’s practically a shrine for them.

Another tear rolls down my cheek. This time, I don’t brush it off.

I should have known Travis was too good to be true. And yet I wanted him to be true. I wanted him to be mine.

I want him to be mine. That’s why it hurts.

Now, when he smiles at me, I’ll know he made someone else smile first. Now, when he holds me in his arms, I’ll think of the woman who was in them first. And when we have sex…

I shake off the thought. How on earth did I do this before?

I suddenly wish I had never gone into that room, that I’d never discovered that my husband loved another woman before me.

That leads to another thought. Is that why Travis didn’t tell me about it after I lost my memories? Is that why he told me not to go into that room? Because he knows I’ve been hurt and he was trying to spare me that hurt?

I bury my face in my hands. Oh, what have I done? Have I just ruined our second chance for happiness?

I shake my head. No. I can’t live blissfully ignorant. It’s better that I know, and now that I do, I’ll just have to accept it. And maybe try to make him mine in my own way.

See, maybe that’s why I’m so upset and insecure—because I can’t remember what Travis and I had, and so I can only think of what he and his first wife had. And I can’t force myself to remember. But I can make new memories with him, even better ones.

The corners of my lips turn up as hope wells in my chest.

Hope.

It’s funny how everything seems to turn around when one has hope.

I decide not to rush it, though. I should give Travis time to regroup and cool off. And so instead of heading straight back home, I decide to take a stroll through the park.

I stop when I spot a girl of about fifteen or sixteen sitting on the steps of the chapel across the street. She has the hood of her sweater pulled over her hair and her hands in its pockets.

Unable to resist, I go over to her.

“Hello,” I greet her.

She looks up quickly, but her lips remain in a frown. “Hello.”

I slip my hands inside my pockets. “Are you alright?”

She doesn’t answer, which I take as a no.

“Mind if I sit here with you?” I ask her.

She shrugs, and I take that as another no. I sit on the step below where she’s sitting and place my arms between my knees.

“I don’t know if we’ve met before, but I’m Grace,” I introduce myself.

“Jen,” she mutters.

“Well, Jen, are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you? I’m a good listener, you know.”

“Really? You’ve been talking a lot, though.”

I recognize the rebellious spite in her words and grin as I remember what it was like to have that.

“I remember how nice it was to be your age,” I tell her.

“That’s probably because you had nice things,” Jen says. “Like nice clothes and cool gadgets and lots of friends. I hate this world because it’s so screwed up, and I hate Hope Creek because it’s so boring. I wish I was born years and years ago or years and years from now. Then I’d be able to get out of Hope Creek and have a fun life.”

Ah. Now the truth comes out.

“Well, aren’t you going to be able to leave Hope Creek soon anyway?” I ask her.

Jen frowns. “I wish. I feel like I’ll never get out of here.”

I chuckle. “I used to feel the same way about my hometown, but I did get out. I mean, look at me now.”

She says nothing.

“There must be some fun things you can do around here,” I say.

She shakes her head.

“Or some cute guys.” I nudge her shoulder.

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, there is one cute guy.”

I smile. “Tell me more.”

“His name is Sean and he’s two years older than me. I’ve known him since we were kids since we live on the same street. He plays the guitar and he’s really good at it.”

“Nice.”

“I’ve had a crush on him for the longest time but I never thought I had a chance with him until he asked me out yesterday.”

“Your crush asked you out?” I gasp. “Wow! That’s so cool! What did you tell him?”

“Okay,” Jen answers without much enthusiasm. “But then I realized I’m going on my first date and I don’t really have anything nice to wear.”

Ah. The problems young people have.

“Where are you having your date?” I ask her curiously.

“At the Treehouse, of course. That’s where couples always have their first date here in Hope Creek.”

“Really?”

I didn’t know that, but I guess I do now.

“I know it’s just a tree house,” she says. “But I still want to wear something nice.”

“Of course you do. It’s your first date.”

She cups her face with her hands. “But I don’t have anything nice. There aren’t any malls or boutiques here, and my Mom never liked wearing dresses so she didn’t leave me any.”

My eyebrows crease. “Leave you any?”

“She passed away years ago, you know, when everything started going to hell.”

Poor girl. I’m already twenty-eight and yet I still feel lost without a mother. I can only imagine how a fifteen-year-old must feel.

“I saw this dress that belonged to my aunt in the attic,” Jen says. “But it’s so old-fashioned, and it doesn’t fit me anyway.”

An old dress that needs some changes, huh?

I touch my chin. “Jen, do you happen to have sewing materials at home?”

She nods. “I think so. My Mom used to make quilts.”

Perfect.

I hold her hand. “You know what? I think I just might be able to help you.”

~

“Well? What do you think?” I ask Jen as she stands in the mirror in the dress I just finished updating and—I like to think—upgrading.

What used to be a tea-length black dress with trumpet sleeves, a Puritan collar and a large red bow in front is now an elegant sleeveless A-line dress with a Queen Anne neckline and a red sash around the waist. I’ve also adjusted it to fit a fifteen-year-old’s measurements instead of a thirty-year-old’s.

She gives the dress a whirl and places her hands on her cheeks.

“I can’t believe this is the same dress. It looks so… glamorous.”

I smile. “Well, you look glamorous in it. All you need to do is to fix that hair, put on some lipstick and get the right pair of shoes and you’ll be the prettiest first date any guy’s ever had.”

“Thank you so much.” Jen throws her arms around me. “How can I ever thank you?”

“You already did,” I tell her.

“I can’t wait for my date tomorrow noon,” she says as she stands in front of the mirror again and runs her fingers over the front of her dress. “I can’t wait to see the look on Sean’s face.”

“He’ll be dazzled, I’m sure,” I say with a yawn.

Jen looks at me. “It’s already late. Do you want to stay here for the night?”

“Hmm.” I look at the bed with the cozy quilt. “Come to think of it, I am a bit too tired to walk home, and it’s already dark outside.”

“It is,” she agrees. “And cold.”

Cold. As opposed to that warm quilt.

I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to spend the night here?”

“Of course. Dad won’t mind. He’s already asleep. And I definitely won’t.”

“Alright then.” I sit on the bed and let out another yawn.

I know I should probably head back to my husband, but it is late and I’m sure he isn’t waiting up for me. If he really wanted to see me, he would have gone looking for me, and given what a small town this is, with everyone knowing everyone else, he would have found me by now.

That thought makes me sad, but I dismiss it as I curl under the quilt.

I’ll deal with Travis tomorrow.