It smelled delicious. My mouth watered in appreciation. Maybe I had a wee bit of an appetite after all. I rose and walked to the china cabinet in the dining room. Today was a special occasion. I selected two of my mother's best china plates, white with a simple pattern of hummingbirds and roses on the silver rims, and two crystal low ball tumblers.
There was no need to overdo the formality, so I opted not to set us up in the dining room. Instead, I returned to the kitchen and arranged two place settings on our tall breakfast bistro. I used white cloth napkins and lit an apple spice scented candle. There. It was pretty and festive. Next I joined Bax in the kitchen and bumped elbows while mixing up a pitcher of orange juice from frozen concentrate. I filled our glasses and fetched two cup holders from the cabinet to set them on, thereby protecting the wood from condensation. They were souvenir tiles from France, hand-painted with hummingbirds.
"Looks nice, Gracie." Bax swooped to the bistro with a heaping, steaming platter in one hand. He forked pancakes and bacon on both our plates.
"Whoa! That's enough for me." I held up my hands in protest at the growing pile of food on my plate.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll eat what you don't want." He rested the tray on the kitchen cabinet and returned to perch on the stool across from me. He lowered his head for a moment of silence. Bax wasn't a religious man, but there were will little rituals he kept like offering up silent thanks for each meal. I liked that about him. He was a hard man, but he had his softer moments.
He opened his eyes and nodded at me. "It's good to be home."
Yeah. Really good. I suppose that's why you don't come very often. I offered him a tight smile and dug in to my food, trying to focus on the positive. He'd made it to my graduation. That's all that mattered.
We ate in silence for several minutes until Bax looked up and pointed his knife at me. "Did you decide on a college yet?"
I shook my head. "I'm debating between four acceptance letters." And trying to hold on to my dwindling hopes for a professional contract. "Not easy for someone my age to decide what to do with the rest of her life. I mean . . ." I searched for the best way to explain my anxiety. "There's so much I don't know yet. So much I've never experienced." What if I picked one college and decided later on it was the wrong choice? I was facing huge decisions here and needed to get them right the first time around.
He nodded thoughtfully. "Are you dating anyone?"
I gave a surprised laugh at his huge leap between topics. "I thought we were talking about college." I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my relationship with Stellan a secret from Bax for long. Bax had a way of weaseling information out of me even when I didn't want him to — especially when I didn't want him to. Besides, he was my father. He would have to find out eventually. I just wasn't in the mood to have this conversation over breakfast.
He snorted. "We are. What's his name?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "I fail to see how this has anything to do with college, but his name is Stellan."
Bax's gaze narrowed with gratification and interest. He reached over to grab a forkful of the pancakes I hadn't touched after the first two bites. I never had much of an appetite when I first woke up in the morning. "That's a Swedish name, isn't it?"
Stellan Romolov was as Russian as it gets, but I merely shrugged, hoping Bax wouldn't ask for his last name. "I think so. He wants to be a surgeon."
Bax popped the bite into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "Good for him. What university does he attend?"
"He's about to start at Heidelberg." The moment I uttered the university's name, I groaned inwardly. It was probably all the information Bax needed to find out everything he wanted about Stellan. His online hacking skills were legendary in the military intelligence community.
I tried to change the subject. "I'm leaning towards attending the University of Texas if I don't secure a professional contract." It wasn't the nation's top dancing school, by any stretch, but . . .
My father's gaze softened. "Ah, Gracie . . ."
I waved my fork at him. "Before you fuss about anything . . . yes, it's partly to be near Aunt Jillian." Who worked part-time there. Living on campus would also put me a few streets away the cemetery where Vivienne Livingston had been laid to rest. "But it's also one of the best universities in the nation." But it was mostly to be near my aunt's home and Mother's grave. Plus UT's Fine Arts College offered degrees in both Dance and Dance Studies, so I could further my education and at least maintain my skills while continuing to apply for a professional contract. I'd probably need to research some quality private dance lessons, though.
"I agree. It's a good school."
I hoped our talk about college was enough to distract my father from his curiosity about Stellan. The moment it seemed appropriate to make my exit from the breakfast room, I dashed upstairs as fast as my fuzzy pink socks would safely allow to change into my white graduation dress. I styled my hair and added a few swipes of makeup — a dusting of powder to take off the shine and a dab of mascara to accentuate my nearly transparent lashes. Then I looped my royal blue graduation gown over one arm and returned downstairs. As promised, Bax was wearing his full dress uniform and looked amazing.
He insisted on snapping a few selfies. Then he held open the door for me, and we stepped inside the garage. He held out a hand for my keys and opened the passenger door for me.
I shrugged and dropped my car keys into his palm.
"It's your special day, Gracie." He winked at me. "I get to play chauffeur." He shut my door, walked around the front of the car, and folded his large frame behind the steering wheel. He had to adjust the seat back several inches before driving my small silver Audi from the garage. My car was more proof of Bax's exorbitant generosity to me. He'd always insisted on providing me with the best of everything money could buy. I think it was his way of trying to make up for all the time he spent away from home.
I folded my hands in my lap and tried not to be sad about Mother's absence. And Stellan's.
"So am I going to get to meet this feller of yours today?"
I clenched my hands. Bax could be like a search hound with a bloody bone sometimes. "No. He couldn't make it."
"Why's that?"
"He's out of town." I turned my face to the window, suddenly miserable. Way to ruin my day, Bax! As if it wasn't already gloomy enough outside.
A lighting bolt shimmered across the heavens, followed by a loud crack of thunder that made me jump. The sky grew ominously darker.
Bax's low laughter rolled through the car. "Guess that means they'll be taking the ceremony inside."
I didn't really care. Part of me was starting to wish my father hadn't made it to my graduation after all. What was the point, anyway? He hadn't been much a part of my life these past seventeen, nearly eighteen years. Why bother to show up for the few highlights? Did he get some sort of satisfaction out of checking the boxes? Sixteenth Christmas. Check. Seventeenth birthday. Check. Seventeenth Christmas. Check. Did it make him feel like more of a father despite being gone the rest of the year? I didn't get it.
Silence settled between us for the duration of the drive. Bax pulled as close as he could to the front of the high school and dropped me off beneath a long festive white canopy walkway that had been erected for the occasion. A blow-up, life-sized version of our mascot was tied down on one side of the entrance, a lion wearing a royal crown. One of the juniors on duty rushed forward to open my door. According to tradition, we would receive VIP treatment today from the underclassmen.
The school building rose above the canopy like a wide rambling fortress of grayish-brown stone. It was a bittersweet moment as I stepped into the foyer and waited for my father to park and join me. This might very well be my last visit ever to the home of the Royals. Families milled around, hugging, chatting, laughing, and flashing pictures. Lots of people were holding balloons and flowers. I tried not to be envious of all the happiness in the room, but it was hard.
The first splatter of rain tapped aga
inst the double glass entry doors. I turned to peer outside and stood riveted though I was blocking one of the doors. Stellan was standing next to the stone Royals monument in the distance. Had his plans to sail up harbor changed at the last minute? My heart sped in excitement. He'd made it after all! I was so happy it was hard to breathe. Why hadn't he called?
I dug my cell phone out of purse and sent him a hasty text. "We've been rained out. Heading inside for the ceremony."
His response was nearly instantaneous. "Wish I could share the clear skies above the harbor, love."
Disappointment slammed into me. I squinted through the glass again, but the rain was pouring so hard it was difficult to see much of anything any more. My sighting of him by the monument must have been a wishful hallucination. Everyone outside was hurrying to the front entrance with umbrellas and jackets held over their heads.
I backed away from the doors to make room for the incoming flood of damp guests.
"Grace!" Antjie squealed somewhere behind me. She enveloped me in her perfumed embrace and animated chatter. Her parents and three brothers were standing a few feet away with a cluster of other families from our neighborhood.
"I see your whole entourage is here." I tried to keep the envy out of my voice.
"Where's Bax?" She glanced at the front entrance. "There's Bax." He entered with the crowd of wet, stamping guests. Unperturbed by the weather, he calmly dabbed the top of his head with a white handkerchief, brushed the water droplets from his blazer, and headed in our direction.
"Wow, but he cleans up nice!" She gave a low whistle, the kind pretty teenage girls normally reserved for cute guys our age.
I wrinkled my brow at her. Really?
"I know I'm not supposed to say such things about the father of my bestie, but you've got one hot papa there, chickadee."
I laughed despite myself. I supposed Bax wasn't too hard on the eyes if you were in to the bad-ass type, but he was very much taken by my mother, even in death. She'd been his one and only, his big weak point. All it took was the mention of her name for his piercing gaze to turn all marshmallowy soft and vulnerable.
"Hey there, Ant." Bax grinned down at Antjie, and she grinned back.
"Colonel." She bent a perfect curtsey. The open flaps of her blue graduation gown billowed around her white dress like a royal cape.
"I suppose I should address you as Salutatorian Ant today, eh?"
She was graduating second in our class. I was so proud of her.
"Works for me, your sir-ness," she returned saucily with another curtsey.
I couldn't help smiling at their antics. In the three years I'd known her, Antjie had become like a sister to me. I adored her enormously. Despite the two important people who were missing from the room, I couldn't be more thrilled she and I were getting to share this once-in-a-lifetime event together. We'd even managed to get assigned places in line together. I was walking with a neighbor named Matt, who also happened to be our class president. She'd snagged our football team captain, Reyland, for her partner, probably because he was one of the few guys in our class she didn't tower over in heels. They were walking directly behind us.
All the graduating seniors were ushered into carefully arranged lines outside the auditorium. We'd practiced for hours in the days leading up to the event. We knew our places in line, our assigned seats, and how to conduct ourselves on stage, to include when and where to pose for our before and after pictures.
The opening strains of Pomp and Circumstance broadcasted over the speakers. A thrill of excitement sent goose bumps up and down my arms. This was it! The moment we'd been waiting for to bring a close to our school-age years. A pair of juniors threw open the double doors, and we began our grand promenade into the auditorium.
Our family members were standing and waiting, cameras flashing like crazy. Faces of parents, grandparents, siblings, and friends glowed with pride. Eyes glinted with emotion and happy tears.
I tried not to think about my mother and how much she would have wanted to be here. I'm happy, happy, happy. I chanted the word over and over inside my head. This is my special day, and Bax is here. I was going to hold it together during this ceremony or die trying. It was being live-streamed for all the family members overseas who couldn't make it, including Aunt Jillian. Ever since September 11, 2011, she had refused to fly.
I almost succeeded in making it to my seat without shedding a single tear. Then I caught sight of Bax a few strides ahead. He was standing next to the center aisle with a gold portrait cradled in the crook of his arm. Even from behind, I had no trouble recognizing that frame. It was an eight by ten portrait of Mother that normally rested on his nightstand. As my walking partner and I drew abreast of him, I could see Bax — my hard, unshakable father — had tears pouring like torrents down his darkly tanned face.
When he caught my eye, he shook his head slightly as if in apology, but it was too late. Answering tears were already scalding the backs of my eyelids as I marched slowly past him. At the last second, I decided he deserved to know he wasn't the only one who'd brought Vivienne Livingston to my graduation. I pulled the gold locket hanging around my neck from beneath my graduation gown and flashed it open to him. It contained his and mother's wedding picture.
He nodded his understanding, and we both continued to cry silently. It was the most emotional moment we'd shared since her funeral. I could almost physically feel the emotional distance between us evaporating and a new bond forming. One of our neighbors clapped Bax's shoulder affectionately, and his wife reached across to stuff a tissue in his hand.
My shoulders relaxed. He was with friends. He would be okay, just like I was going to be okay. I mustered the strength to keep walking, one foot in front of the other while struggling to stifle the rest of my tears.
Matt reached for my hand and squeezed. "Army strong," he whispered.
"Army strong," I whispered back. He understood what I was going through in the way that only another Army brat could. His was one of the few other Army families living on our base. Most of our other neighbors served in the Air Force, but that was the only difference between us. All our lives were full of sacrifices, sometimes huge ones, in service to our country. Not just the soldiers who wore the uniforms but every one of their family member also. And through it all, we somehow managed to stick together and grow stronger. Day after day. Year over year.
By the time my name was announced over the microphone, I had my emotions back under control. My Aunt Jillian was watching our graduation ceremony, and I planned to give her my best billion-dollar smile. After shaking the hands of all the school officials on stage and receiving my diploma, I deliberately turned to smile directly at the cameras for her sake then started my promenade down the temporarily erected stairs off center stage. Movement in the back of the room caught my eye. I froze in mid-step, one foot suspended over the stair below.
Stellan? He was standing in the back of the room near the entrance doors.
I blinked. Hard. It had to be my brain playing tricks on me to keep imagining his presence here today. He was sailing cargo out of Hamburg Harbor later this afternoon, hundreds of miles north of us. Except he wasn't. After I blinked, he was still standing against the far wall. I drew a deep breath and took another step down the stairs . . . and missed.
The audience gasped and several people rose from their seats, hands outstretched as I hurtled downward. One second I was flying through space, and the next second firm hands closed around my waist and set me on my feet.
The audience's gasp turned into a relieved, "O-h-h-h!" I blinked again and glanced from side to side to discover who my savior was, but I was standing alone at the base of the stage.
I glanced wildly around me again with the same results.
From behind me, Antjie hissed, "You've got this, sweetie!"
Right. I'm such an idiot. Keep walking.
Grace
"Want to go to a restaurant or something?" Bax asked once we were ensconced once more in the w
arm, dry interior of my car. It was sheeting rain so hard outside my window that I was surprised when he started the motor. We probably should have waited the worst of it out before hitting the road.
"No thanks. Not in this weather. Maybe later today or tomorrow when it clears up?" That is, if Bax was still around by then.
"No problem, hon."
On our drive home, he was nice enough not to mention my near catastrophic tumble off the stage, for which I was humbly grateful. I was still simmering in mortification.
He allowed us to travel in silence, which was fine with me. I was still puzzling over my lapse into the world of hallucinations from earlier. I hadn't eaten anything strange lately or taken any medications. Nor had I imbibed any alcohol for at least two weeks, not since my last wine and roses date with Stellan.
Why then was I imagining his presence everywhere I looked? My intellect told me nothing was wrong with me. I'd just this morning graduated in the top ten percent of my class. I was level headed, possessed a high IQ, and was mature for my age, or so I'd been told. Though several neighbors were great at checking in on me and bringing over covered plates of food, I'd otherwise lived alone and taken care of myself the past year. Antjie often referred to me as an old soul. So if something strange was going on, I doubted it was due to any mental instability on my part. Unless it was some strange side effect of grieving over a lost loved one, though it seemed unlikely.
Which brought me back to my original concerns — the ones I'd tried to work through with Antjie on a number of occasions recently. Something wasn't quite right about my relationship with Stellan. Even though we were in love — that I didn't doubt — there were so many other things about our relationship that weren't normal. Biting my lower lip, I took out my cell phone, opened my notepad app, and starting typing out my list of concerns:
1: We only date at night.
2: His skin is always cold.
3: I've never seen him eat.
4: He never seems to grow tired.
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