Moment of Grace

by P. Creeden

  “No. Just a bit of cold feet, that’s all,” Charles lied, but made sure his eyes were closed, as he rubbed his forehead like he was getting a headache.

  “You got cold feet? Or she does?”

  “Edgar, we aren’t women. We don’t need to talk.” Charles drew to his feet and downed the second glass of lemonade in one gulp. “I’m going back to work and suggest you two do the same.”

  Edgar huffed, his lips drawing thin. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” Charles said, before slamming his glass back on the table and marching out the door. He felt bad for disrespecting his elders, especially since both the men had been working on the farm longer than his family had owned it. But despite it all, he just couldn’t betray Grace. No matter how many times he tried to reason what he’d seen and figure out some other way to interpret it, he couldn’t. But because of the secret he was keeping for Grace, he had a lot of hard choices ahead. The neighboring families all came together each year for Easter, and some already knew that a wedding had been in the plans. So, eventually, he needed to tell people that wasn’t happening. Maybe their families shouldn’t even get together? Somehow, he kept avoiding that choice as much as he could. He didn’t want to ruin every one’s Easter.

  He found himself heading out to the barn, as he often did when he felt lost, and saddled up Chipper, the spunky bay gelding he’d gotten as a gift from his Pa when they first moved to Belle, Wyoming. Even though the horse was nearly twenty, he still liked to kick up his heels and remind Charles to sit deep in the saddle now and then. Once Charles mounted, Chipper began to jig. One thing he always liked about Chipper was he was willing to run. Once they had gone a short bit down the path toward the trails, Charles let his hold loose on the reins to feel his horse fly. The wind licked the sweat from his body. Leaves and branches scraped against his arms as they made turns and leaned toward the next trail. The rush could almost make Charles forget about everything that ailed him and turn back the hands of time when he was happy and in love and not betrayed.

  He closed his eyes and just felt Chipper’s muscles bunch and stretch underneath him. He breathed in the spring wind and truly felt as though he flew. Then, the next thing he knew, Chipper came to a sudden stop, shifting beneath him. The horse cried out and jumped to the side, tossing Charles hard onto the muddy riverbank. Every muscle in Charles body tensed and screamed. His lower back went numb momentarily, and his ankle felt twisted. What was wrong with Chipper? He’d never been one to spook like that. Thoughts started racing through Charles’s mind. How far along on the trail were they? Was it too far to walk him back to the farm? Was his horse injured, too?

  Charles laid there, staring up at the gray sky overhead, just long enough to catch his breath. A shuffling sounded, close by, and he decided that he needed to get up and check his horse for injuries, too. Slowly, he sat up and looked, but it was not a horse’s legs where he’d heard the shuffle—it was a person’s. Instead of Chipper, the woman who broke his heart stood beside him.

  “Grace,” he whispered bitterly, frowning and looking back down at his ankle.

  “Charles…” She knelt. “Let me help you.”

  He pushed her hands away. “Just go get Edgar. Or my pa.”

  “I am capable of helping you, Charles.”

  “Are you now?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “You aren’t even capable of keeping your name above scandal.”

  “It’s not what you think,” she said, her voice cracking. “I tried to tell you what happened … I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know that, but please … just let me at least explain.”

  Her voice sounded so far away, so broken, and so very unlike the woman he had always known. The fearless woman he had caught sneaking into his family farm all those years ago was just a shadow of her former self. Charles wondered what his life would have been like had he not trusted her, had he forced her to leave like he should have done with any assumed thief.

  A bitter laugh bubbled from his chest.

  “It was a mistake…” she whispered; her hand still stretched out toward him.

  “A mistake? You call kissing another man a mistake?” Suddenly the anger he felt deep down numbed the pain in his back. “Grace, I saw you. I was there in the stables, and I saw you.”

  “Look, Charles, you have every reason to hate me. But you don’t know—”

  “I know enough!” He cut her off and stood, pain shooting through his twisted ankle. He breathed deeply and began wiping the mud from his pants. “I know that I heard you tell that boy that you don’t care about your family, this pathetic town, or getting married. You denounced everything that I thought mattered to you.”

  Suddenly, that fire in her eyes that once drew him in, was now a roaring flame. “I had lost my mother, Charles! I had lost something so precious and dear to me that I said things I did not mean. You know me, Charles … You know me better than anyone else.”

  “Stop lying! You didn’t even know your mother was dead, yet. I was the one who found her … after I found you kissing that boy!”

  She shook her head solemnly. “No,” she whispered, “I was there, Charles. I was there with her… before you found me …”

  With those words, all the missing pieces that didn’t quite make sense fell into place, and Charles wasn’t sure what was worse—the tainted truth he once held or the new truth coming to light.

  Chapter Three

  Grace

  It had been right after Papa had died that Mama had pulled Grace on her lap and whispered, “I have a secret to tell you.”

  She had been nine years old at the time, so of course, the mere thought of a secret made her consuming grief disappear for a moment. Oh, how easy it had been to forget and let go of pain back then, slipping into her mother’s arms—safe and warm. She squeezed Grace and said, “You are the most precious of all your siblings. Do you know why?”

  Grace remembered frowning. Mama had always told them she loved them all the same.

  “When I named you Grace, you were given such a beautiful gift. You have a heart so brave, so forgiving, so loving … It will be your sweet grace that carries your mama through this.”

  That moment filled Grace with purpose. She had to be strong for her mama. For her family. It was a foolish thought, of course—what could a nine-year-old do to stop the grief of a lost parent? But Grace did her best. She always did her best. She didn’t always know how to help provide for her family, so a few times she was caught stealing food from the general store when they were all out. She couldn’t bear to see her younger sister go hungry. She strived to be what Papa expected of her and what Mama needed. Even when the whole town thought she was an unruly child from a fatherless family, she didn’t care.

  And though Grace tried hard to fulfill her parents’ expectations, she didn’t seem to be doing a good job of it. On the night her mother died, she’d been by her mother’s bedside, having a feeling that she wasn’t long for this world.

  “Grace.” Her mother held out her hand, stretching her fingers toward her. Her mother’s voice rasped, sounded as though she might be choking. A rattling had been in her lungs for days, as if her soul was shaking her ribcage, trying to break free from this life.

  It was time. Grace knew it was now or never. She started to tell her mother that she was sorry—that she couldn’t stay with her. That she needed to leave. That she couldn’t be here for this. But when Grace opened her mouth, she only choked. The cowardly words couldn’t come out. By God’s grace, she couldn’t push them past her unwilling tongue, so she couldn’t leave.

  Instead, she closed her eyes, slid down against the wall, and cried. She kept her eyes closed until she couldn’t hear the rasping anymore, her eyes burning from the onslaught of tears. All her mother had wanted was for her to hold her hand—to be with her as she left this life, but much like a child who hides under a blanket from the monster, Grace had hid from death, hoping that when she opened her eyes, her mother would be alive and well.
She had betrayed her mother. Like a coward.

  When her eyes popped open, Grace couldn’t look at the bed where her mother had been withering away for months. Instead, she kept her gaze on the floor while she took a deep breath, stood, pulled up the hem of her skits, and ran. Without any purpose or direction, without any thought until she ended up in the most familiar place in the world—the stables. Aside from the horses, the stable appeared empty, so Grace had found a patch of hay and slowly sat down, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

  “Why?” She had sobbed. “Why do I lose everything?”

  “Gracie,” a familiar voice had called out. “Is that you?”

  She had inhaled sharply and simply nodded. She still couldn’t speak with this overwhelming weight in her chest.

  “Are you all right?” the stable boy asked.

  She shook her head in a strange, almost violent way. She had felt so unlike herself. Her heart felt numb as though her very soul was unattached from her body.

  “Oh, Gracie …” the young man said as sat beside her, his brilliant blue eyes inspecting her. “What happened?”

  “Jessie, I did the most unforgivable thing!” she had choked, sobs wracking through her body, her soul.

  Jessie worked in the stables at Charles’s Farm for a long while. He was two years older than Grace but had barely said two words to her every time she’d come down here before with Charles. Now he seemed like the easiest person in the world to talk to, and she found herself baring her soul to him.

  He shook his head. “You did an unforgivable thing, Miss Grace Lynn? What did you do this time? I knew you couldn’t keep yourself in check just ’cause you got yourself a good lad.”

  “Don’t,” she whispered.

  “What is it, Gracie?”

  “My mama is gone,” she whispered, the reality of what just happened had started to hit her like a horse’s kick.

  Jessie’s arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, and though Grace so desperately needed to be comforted, she felt no comfort in his embrace.

  “Don’t touch me.” She pressed her palms against his chest and pushed him away. “I don’t deserve to be comforted.”

  “Why would say such a thing?”

  “I didn’t comfort her … I … I couldn’t … she was dying, and she needed me to be with her, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even look at her.”

  He pulled Grace in again and held her tighter in that moment, but all she wanted to do was run and find Charles. Why had she run to these stables? Why was she telling Jessie everything instead of Charles?

  “Grace, I am sure your mother understands. She is with the Lord now. She is in a better place.” His gruff voice grew deeper as the breath of his words brushed against the nape of Grace’s neck.

  “She doesn’t understand!” she snapped and tried to push him away again but felt too weak. “No one does!” And that was when years of pain, guilt, and fear escaped from her heart. “I try so hard to be what everyone expects… What everyone needs … And the one time that I was needed most … The one moment that it mattered the most …”

  “Grace Lynn…”

  “I’m done,” Grace said, defeated. Her hands collapsed at her sides as she whispered, “All of this. This stupid town, my wedding... I am done with all of it.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “But I do!”

  “Gracie, dear, I’ve known you forever. You were a bit a reckless on in your youth, but you are also caring and a beautiful woman. You are about to be married to a wealthy man and live a happy life that most only wish for in this township.”

  Grace cringed. “You think any of that matters to me?”

  Jessie had raised his brow. “Doesn’t it? You won’t ever want for anything. You’ll have no need to ever go hungry. You will be cared for.”

  Grace wanted to tell him that nothing... none of that mattered. Not only had she just lost her dear mother, but she had betrayed her in her final moments. She couldn’t apologize. She could never make that up to her. She could never fix this mistake. Anger boiled in her blood—anger towards what? She wasn’t sure. Maybe it was herself, or God, or the way Jessie almost laughed at her pain and shamed her for her prospective wealth, but whatever it was, the anger took hold of her. “No! It doesn’t. This stupid township, these stupid people, my family, and Charles … none of it matters!” As if she had meant to prove him wrong, Grace pulled Jessie in and kissed him hard on the lips. It was a kiss fueled by grief and fury, and so very different from the kisses she had shared with Charles. She felt nothing.

  Jessie gently pulled away and wiped her tears. “Can’t say I never wanted to kiss you, Gracie … but this ain’t right, and we both know it.”

  Grace sighed heavily. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, a new mantra wrapping tight around her heart.

  “Don’t I matter?”

  “No,” she whispered. “Not even you.”

  Grace

  Night had fallen in the time Grace and Charles had been talking. He leaned against her as she helped him limp back toward the farm. His arm was across her shoulders. The air had turned cooler, the temperature keeping the mosquitoes at bay, but not the gnats.

  “After that, I ran to find you …” Grace said, keeping her steps even with him. “But you weren’t anywhere, and then there was this crowd at my house and …”

  “And you found me there,” he said, his voice distant as if he was back in that moment, so far away from the road they walked on, now.

  She nodded. “I went to tell you about everything, my mama, what had happened with me and Jessie—but you already knew…”

  “Hm.” was his only response. It was what he said when he was too deep in thought to reply.

  “Charles, we need to call off this marriage,” she whispered.

  “What?” he asked, suddenly snapping back to the present. His brow furrowing as he frowned deeply. Why did he seem appalled at the idea?

  “You heard me,” she whispered firmly. “If you want to tell people what I did, that’s all right. It really is, because I understand what I did to you was …” she trailed off searching for the right word. “Unspeakable. You and I both know you deserve a far better woman than me.”

  “Grace Lynn.” He stopped limping beside her and reached to tilt her face toward him. “Look at me.”

  She averted her eyes. “I can’t.”

  “Grace, look. I am not going to lie and say that everything is all right.” His voice was firm but not as harsh as she’d expected.

  She cringed, continuing to stare down on the dirt trail.

  “It’s not all right. But it will be, Grace. Whatever happens. Whatever we choose, it will be all right.”

  “How can you possibly believe that? I’ve ruined everything …” Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She sniffed.

  “You made a mistake but didn’t do it out of spite. You just try so hard, Grace Lynn, and that’s what I love about you.”

  “No,” she cried, shaking her head. Tears began to slip down her cheeks

  He kissed her forehead and began limping again. “We’re almost to the farm. I’m in pain. You’re tired. This is a lot for both of us to take in right now. Let us both sleep on it, and we will talk in the morning.”

  “All right,” she whispered, happy that at least he could look at her without distaste. At least he was willing to let her speak and hear her side.

  “Grace,” he said again.

  “Hm?”

  “It’s gonna be all right.”

  “You really think so?” she asked quietly as they continued down the road.

  “I do.”

  His faith in her stirred something in her heart. She wanted to believe him—believe in herself the way he believed in her. Was it foolish to believe he could still love her … after all of this? She didn’t tell him the truth in hopes that he would forgive and choose to love her still. No, she had told him the truth because she didn’t want him to think that he did something
to cause her betrayal of him. She wanted him to know that she was already broken. And in her mind, she was already tainted. What kind of daughter would let her mother die without holding her hand?

  When the farm came into view, Edgar came rushing up. “We were worried when Chipper came back without you. Are you all right?”

  Charles waved him off. “I’m fine. Grace will help me up to the house. Did you take care of Chipper?”

  “Of course.” Edgar shot a few questioning glances in Grace’s direction. But both of them ignored it and continued down the lane.

  Once they got to Charles’s house, she helped him to sit on the sofa in the parlor. “I should be fine here,” he said. “I just need to rest and let my ankle recover. If I get in too much pain, we have willow bark.”

  Grace nodded, squeezing his shoulder once before turning to let herself out of the house. But as she began to walk away, Charles grabbed her by the hand, promising, “I’ll come by tomorrow. First thing in the morning.”

  Grace wanted to leave her hand in his. The warmth of his love and forgiveness, his understanding, felt like rain. The kind of rain that she loved so much as a child. It would be summertime and she would be helping her father tend to the farm animals, the heat searing through her work clothes and sweat dripping from her forehead. Grace would hear the thunder as a summer storm would roll in, and at first, she would get scared. Back then, she was terrified of the thunder and lightning, but Papa would scoop her up in his arms and say, “Oh, Gracie, don’t be scared! That’s just God talkin’!”

  “That’s God?” she had asked incredulously.

  He smiled as a raindrop hit her cheek. Papa wiped the raindrop and had said, “Those are his tears, Gracie.”

  “Why is he sad?” she had asked.

  “He’s not sad, Gracie. God cries happy tears, too.”

  Whenever it would rain like that Grace would drop whatever she was doing and let God’s voice and his tears, shower over her, cooling her skin and easing her mind. And though she desperately needed to feel this sense of peace Charles offered her, she needed to pull her hand out of his. She needed to go home and ponder on these things. Ever since her mother passed away, ever since that night, she let go of any love she had for herself. Or any hope she had for her relationship with Charles. How could she continue this engagement? How could she let someone as pure as Charles love someone as wretched as she?