Travis

Grace didn’t sleep here last night, I think as I look at the bed in the attic. Its sheets are free of any creases, its pillows plump and without any impressions.

I frown.

I fell asleep in the nursery, so I didn’t realize she hadn’t come home. Now that I do, I don’t feel any worry, because I know that she’s still in Hope Creek and therefore safe, but I do feel a tinge of guilt.

I was the one who told her to get out, after all.

I know Grace was wrong to disobey my orders, but I was also wrong to get mad at her like that. Especially since after spending the night in the nursery, I’ve realized how silly my orders were. Just as silly as keeping the nursery the way it was for years now.

What on earth was I doing?

Yes, keeping my baby’s things isn’t so bad, but she didn’t even get to wear them. She was never here. She only lived for a few minutes and then she died, just minutes before Angie did.

Neither of them ever got to use the nursery, and yet I’ve kept it intact like some museum of relics. In so doing, I myself began living like a relic.

No more.

Phil’s right. I’ve been living in the past, which isn’t really living at all. I have to let go, to move on.

I have to give Grace a chance. I have to give myself a chance.

Toby goes to the bed and rests his head on its edge.

“You’re saying I should go bring her back, aren’t you?” I ask him.

He looks at me.

I pat his head. “Don’t worry. I will.”

Sure, I don’t have a clue where to start looking for her, but hey, Hope Creek is a small town. I’m sure I can find Grace in no time.

~

After a few hours of driving around town, I still haven’t found Grace. No one has seen her, and some don’t even know who she is. She’s mostly been at the farm, and her arrival hasn’t exactly been made public, only whispered about by those who still love gossip.

I sigh and grip the steering wheel in frustration.

Where can she be?

Finally, after driving past the town hall for the third time, I see her lurking behind some bushes.

My eyebrows furrow. Is she hiding from me?

I park my car and get out.

“Stay,” I order Toby after closing the door. Then I walk over to Grace.

“Hey.” I tap her shoulder. “I…”

“Shh.” She lifts a finger to her lips.

I feel even more confused.

Isn’t she happy to see me? I thought she’d be crying her eyes out after what happened yesterday, but she seems perfectly fine, excited even.

Then I see what she’s seeing and I understand.

Two teenagers are standing at the foot of Hope Creek’s famous Treehouse—a girl with braided black hair in a black and red dress and a lanky boy with light brown hair wearing a pale blue dress shirt and khakis.

I narrow my gaze. Are those Jennifer Ward and Sean Hamilton, the son of Jerry Hamilton?

A teenage girl and a teenage boy under the Treehouse. It can mean only one thing.

“Are they on their first date?” I ask Grace in a whisper.

“Yes,” she answers as she grabs my arm. “Isn’t it romantic?”

I don’t answer. I do remember Angie bringing me to the Treehouse one evening after dinner, but it wasn’t officially a date and I don’t recall it being romantic. We weren’t wearing nice clothes, she was drunk and she almost fell down the stairs.

These two, however, look nice, not to mention they look like they really like each other.

The fact that they’re probably the first couple in Hope Creek to go on a first date since the Icebreaker and that they’re doing it in spite of all the chaos makes it even more meaningful.

“They’re brave, I’ll give them that,” I tell Grace.

She says nothing. She just continues watching them dreamily.

I throw her a puzzled look. “Have you been spying on them this whole time?”

“No, silly,” she says. “Jen told me about their date and I helped her with her dress. I was up all night making changes to it so that it would look good on her.”

“Oh.”

That explains where she was.

“I would have called, but there aren’t any working phones in Hope Creek,” she adds.

“It’s fine,” I tell her.

I don’t know if she heard, though. She’s busy watching the couple again. When Sean takes Jen’s hand and leads her up the stairs of the Treehouse, she touches her cheek and lets out a sigh.

Somehow I find that amusing.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I say.

She looks at me and shakes her head. “I shouldn’t have gone into that room.”

“It’s fine. I’ve decided to air it out, maybe even clean it out.”

Grace’s blue eyes grow wide. “You have?”

I nod and touch her hand. “I know the Treehouse is occupied, but would you like to go on a date with me?”

Grace’s jaw drops. “A date with you?”

“Would you rather have it with someone else? Because I hate to disappoint you, but there aren’t too many eligible bachelors in Hope Creek.”

She shakes her head. “I’d love to go on a date with you, but like you said, the Treehouse is taken and Jen gave me the impression that it’s the best place for a date in Hope Creek, if not the only place. Where would we go?”

I grin. “I can think of a place.”

~

“There we go.”

I spread out the blanket on top of the hay I’ve spread out on the floor of the barn right under the spot where the moonlight streams in through the hole in the roof like a silvery spotlight.

I take Grace’s hand as she kicks off her shoes and sits on top of it.

“Well, this is something different,” she says as she looks around. “Where’s Rosie?”

“I transferred her to the stables for the night,” I answer. “I thought it would be better for us to be alone.”

“Yeah.” Grace nods. “Poor Rosie would just feel like a third wheel. Speaking of third wheel, where’s Toby?”

“He’s probably asleep on the living room couch,” I answer. “At least, that’s where I left him.”

She grins. “He loves that couch.”

“But let’s not talk about another guy, shall we?” I rub my hands. “Actually, to celebrate this occasion, I have prepared something special.”

Her eyes narrow. “Really?”

I pull out the bottle of wine I’ve hidden in the hay. “It’s Phil’s last bottle of wine.”

Grace’s eyes grow wide. “And he gave it to you?”

“Sort of.” I open the lid. “I don’t have any wine glasses, though, so we’ll have to share the bottle.”

She shrugs. “Okay.”

I offer it to her. “Want to try it first?”

“Sure.” She grabs the bottle and takes a sip. “Mmm. That’s good. And strong.”

I take my own sip so I can form my own opinion.

As the burgundy liquid rests on my tongue, I feel something sour and slightly sweet. As it travels down my throat, I feel the heat. As soon as it reaches my stomach, I feel the kick of the alcohol.

“It is both of those,” I agree.

“When was the last time we were on a date?” Grace asks.

“Hmm.” My eyebrows bunch up as I try to think. “Actually, we haven’t been on a date since we got married, so this is something of a first.”

“No way.” She punches my arm playfully. “What took you so long?”

“I had to wait until you had amnesia and learned to cook,” I joke.

She sticks out her lower lip. “Very funny.”

I take another sip of the wine.

“Do you like the new me better than the old me, then?” Grace asks.

“I think so,” I answer before handing her the bottle.

“Me too, actually,” she says as she strokes the bottle. “Somehow, I feel like I’m stronger and more sure of myself.”

“Really?”

She tips the bottle and takes a sip, then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

“There’s just one thing I don’t like about the new me.”

“What?” I ask her.

“The new me doesn’t really know anything about you,” Grace says as she hands me the bottle back. “Do you think we can fix that?”

I lie down on my side on the blanket and prop my head up on an elbow. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“For starters, how old are you?” she asks.

My eyebrows go up. “Wow. What a serious question.”

“It is serious,” she says.

“Thirty-five,” I tell her. “My birthday is January 19.”

“Mine is December 2, but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

I didn’t, but I do now.

“Any more serious questions, or was that it?” I ask her before taking another gulp of wine.

“Where are your parents?” Grace asks.

“Gone,” I answer vaguely.

Frankly, I don’t know if they’re alive or dead since I haven’t seen them since the Icebreaker.

“Any siblings?”

“A younger brother.”

And I don’t know what’s become of him, either.

“And you’re a farmer?” Grace gets the bottle from me.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

She shrugs. “Why, though?”

“It just gives me a sense of peace, I guess,” I answer as I look around the barn. “And a sense of belonging. Plus the smell is something else.”

Grace chuckles.

“Any more questions?” I ask her. “Aren’t you going to ask me what my favorite color is? Or the name of my first pet? Or how many girlfriends I used to have?”

Grace narrows her eyes at me. “That many, huh?”

“On second thought, don’t ask, because I’ve lost count.”

She sticks her tongue out at me before drinking from the bottle. This time, she takes longer than before.

“Now, now. Don’t finish the wine.” I grab the bottle.

“It’s your fault for trying to make me jealous,” she says.

My eyebrows go up. She’s jealous?

“Now let’s see.” She touches her chin. “What else should I ask? Ah, here’s one…”

~

By the time the bottle is empty, Grace has asked me a hundred questions. At least it feels like it.

Finally, just like the wine, she’s run out. At least, I think so until her expression turns serious.

“Can I ask you just one more question?” she asks as she leans towards me, so close I can smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Yes?” I put down the empty bottle.

“What was her name? Your first wife?”

I pause. “Angela, but everyone called her Angie.”

“And you loved her, didn’t you?”

I think about not answering. She did say she’d just ask one more question. But I decide to simply nod.

“I’m sorry.” Grace holds my hand. “I’m sorry about what happened to her. And to your baby.”

I shake my head. “None of it was your fault. And it was a long time ago.”

She, too, shakes her head. “A long time ago, a short time ago. It doesn’t really matter. We never fill up the holes that the ones we’ve lost have left in our lives. We can just find people to love us in spite of them and help us forget them.”

I squeeze her hand. “You’re right.”

“Do you… think you could let me help you forget?” Grace asks as her fingers entwine with mine. “Not Angie or the baby, just the holes. The pain. Because I think I’d like to try.”

I don’t answer. I simply look into her eyes, those deep blue eyes that are currently warm and brimming with sincerity, oceans that reflect the loneliness that I’m sure can be seen in mine.

We’re kindred souls—lonely survivors wanting to live.

Instead of answering, I take her chin in my hand and press my lips to hers. At first, they simply tremble beneath mine. Then they press back.

I kiss her harder as my hand moves to her jaw. I part her lips to taste her, but suddenly she pulls away.

I narrow my gaze at her. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s just that I don’t remember ever doing this before. You’ll have to teach me the ropes,” Grace confesses.

And here I thought she wanted to stop.

I grin as I stroke her cheek. “My pleasure.”