Letters From Grace

by C. J. Carmichael

  Grace was surprised to see there was a guy with her. Black with crazy, curly hair and a shy smile, he looked about the same age as Rae.

  When Grace joined them holding her coffee and scone, Rae stood again. “Thanks so much for meeting me, Ms. Hamilton. I’m Rae, obviously, and this is my friend Max. He kept me company on the trip up here.”

  The boy stood. He was even taller than Rae, all arms and legs. He gave her a nod. “I’ll take off, let you two talk. But I just wanted to say that I really like your book on Central Park birds, Ms. Hamilton.”

  “Thank you, Max.” Grace set her coffee and scone on the table so she could shake both of their hands. “You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”

  “This is Rae’s thing,” he said, emphasizing his friend’s name slightly.

  There was a short silence after he left.

  “I like this place,” Rae said, settling deeper into her chair.

  Unlike most coffee shops, which seemed to favor a cozy, muted-light atmosphere, Dime A Cup was bright and spacious thanks to large south- and west-facing windows. Three open-concept levels were connected by an open-tread staircase, and Ansel Adams’s prints—encased in hard plastic—were suspended at intervals from the ceiling beams.

  “I’m glad,” Grace said. “I’m not sure when coffee was a dime a cup…maybe in Ansel Adams’s day. But the lighting…and obviously the photographs…appeal to me.” She studied the high school girl more closely. Rae’s gaze kept shifting from Grace, to her surroundings, to the book in front of them. Grace guessed she was a little nervous.

  “I’ve never been interviewed for a school project before. May I say I’m honored?”

  Rae smiled. “I was surprised you said yes, actually. Max didn’t think you would.”

  “He seems like a great guy…”

  A blush rose on Rae’s cheeks. “He is. Um, he’s not my boyfriend or anything. We’ve been buddies since we were little.” Rae cleared her throat, then pulled a notebook from a backpack on the floor by her chair. “Anyway, I guess I should start my questions, or we’ll run out of time. When did you first get interested in photography?”

  Grace talked about her father, how his job as a studio photographer first got her hooked on the camera itself. “Then in high school I had this boyfriend who was really into hiking and bird watching. That probably makes him sound like a nerd, but trust me, he definitely wasn’t. I’d take my camera when we went out to the local preserve, and soon I found I was hooked on taking pictures with birds.”

  “That’s cool.” Rae looked up from her notebook. “So, um, your career, it all started back in high school?”

  “It sure did. I learned my photography skills from my father. But from Levi I learned how to tell stories with my pictures. When you spend enough time in nature, it changes the way you think, the way you move…and especially the way you see.”

  “It sounds like you really liked this guy.”

  “Oh, I did. But at the time I didn’t realize how rare it was to have that sort of connection with someone. We…drifted apart.”

  Grace felt suddenly embarrassed. This girl hadn’t come all this way to listen to her sad tale of lost love. Quickly she shifted the subject to all she’d learned in college, to landing her first professional gig, to getting an agent and then publishing a book. Rae asked intelligent questions and in fact, she seemed so genuinely interested that Grace had to ask, “Are you interested in photography too?”

  “I’m not the artistic type. But we do have an arts festival in Woodland. Have you ever thought about coming?”

  “Ah yes, the foliage arts festival.” Grace gave a soft laugh. “As a young girl I dreamed about being one of the featured artists.”

  “Then why don’t you come? It’s happening next week.”

  “Oh, I don’t know…”

  “I guess it’s kind of small-time for you now that you’re famous?”

  Grace hoped she would never be such a snob. “Most years I’ve just been too busy.” But she wasn’t this year. In fact, she’d been in an odd state of ennui since the excitement of her launch day party and then Alicia’s return to Woodland.

  Of course, if she went back, chances were good she’d run into Levi. He owned the local general store and was very involved in civic affairs. No doubt he’d be involved, as a sponsor or a volunteer, possibly both.

  After all these years, the idea shouldn’t put butterflies in her stomach.

  Yet it did.

  Grow up, she lectured herself. She and Levi had twenty years of different life experiences between them. What were the chances they’d still feel the same connection? Instead she should be focusing on the one person who did matter from those days. Alicia had been her stalwart supporter and friend for so long. The last surprise appearance at her book launch was just another example of her thoughtfulness and loyalty.

  Whereas Grace had only met Alicia’s husband Sean at their wedding and their children never.

  The idea of returning to Woodland stuck with her, and thirty minutes later after Max—whom Rae was clearly crazy about despite all this talk of being friends—had returned and reminded Rae they had a train to catch, Grace texted Alicia.

  Considering attending the Autumn Foliage Festival this year. Good idea?

  Within seconds Alicia sent back a reply. The one here? In Woodland??? This was followed by some astonished and excited emoji faces.

  Thought it would be fun to meet your kids. But we just had a visit so…

  Come! Timing is perfect. Sean just finished a small guest apartment above our garage. You can visit with us as much as you want but have some privacy.

  Grace hesitated. I suppose Levi is involved in the festival?

  Co-organizer with our mayor, Alicia fired back. Might be good for you to see him again after all these years.

  Yes. Alicia was right. Grace had idealized her memories of Levi, set him to be so wonderful no other man could compete. Seeing him again would surely topple that myth.

  You may be right, she texted back. And then, before she could chicken out, she googled the foliage festival website. Ten minutes later she’d sent an email to Clara Quiver.

  *

  “I have an exciting announcement.” Clara took command of the committee meeting on Monday right after it was called to order.

  Inwardly Levi groaned. He’d barely recovered from the last meeting and wasn’t sure he was up for an exciting announcement of any kind.

  “I’ve already discussed this with Erin, and she gave me the green light to sign the contract and get new stickers printed.” Clara opened the cardboard box on the table in front of her and pulled out a yellow banner.

  She turned it around so they could all read: “Featuring Wildlife Photographer Grace Hamilton!”

  Levi stared at the name in disbelief. When Grace had first begun to have some success as a career photographer, the festival chair—at that time it was his father—had approached her to see if she would come to Woodland. The response Grace sent—via her agent—was that she regretted that she was already booked and would be out of the country.

  The same thing happened the next two times Grace was invited to the festival and by the time Levi took over as chair, her name didn’t even come up.

  It certainly hadn’t at any of their meetings for this year. So how was she suddenly the featured artist of the entire festival?

  Levi glanced around the table. Both Sam and Oliver looked equally stunned by the announcement. Sam was the first to voice his concern.

  “I admire Grace’s work. And I’m as proud as the next guy that she hails from our small city. But didn’t we agree, just one week ago, that our list of artists was finalized? We’ve printed posters—”

  “Which is why I had these stickers made,” Clara interjected. “We’ll divide them up tonight and get the news out around—”

  “But getting new artists was tabled for next year,” Sam insisted. “So how—”

  “She emailed me out of the blu
e.” Clara’s color was high, her voice pitched several tones higher than normal. “Asked if it was too late to—”

  “It was too late! It is too late!” Sam said forcefully.

  “I made a quick call to Erin and we agreed that an exception should be made in this circumstance.” Clara turned to Erin for support.

  “Grace is a local success story,” Erin said. “Her latest book is a current New York Times bestseller. I agreed with Clara that this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. What do you think, Levi?”

  If it was anyone but Grace, Levi would have said sure, no problem, he’d find a way to make the logistics of adding an extra tent work.

  But it was Grace, and he found himself reluctant. If she came, there was no way he could avoid her. And he just didn’t know how that would go. It might be okay. More likely it would be awkward or potentially painful.

  “Well, Sam does have a point. And we’ve never needed a feature artist to make our festival a success.” All their attending artists were local, and while many were talented, none were exactly household names.

  “I’m surprised by you, Levi,” Clara said using her old schoolteacher voice. “Grace used to be a good friend of yours. More than a friend, wasn’t she? And you won’t stick up for her now?”

  “Oh?” Erin arched her eyebrows as she gave Levi a speculative look. “Were you high school sweethearts?”

  “What does that matter?” Sam sounded disgusted. “The official deadline is pas—”

  “I know it’s past,” Clara said with a note of impatience. “But think of what a draw she’ll be! We’ve agreed she’ll get a booth where she can sell signed prints of her photographs as well as copies of her new book. Isn’t it amazing? We’ve been trying to get Grace to attend our festival for years. So unfortunate her parents moved to Florida. But at least we—”

  “She just wants to promote her new book,” interrupted Sam. “Where was she when—”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” Clara demanded. “Have you forgotten the purpose of our festival—to support artists? If you—”

  Erin stood in a valiant effort to regain control. “Thank you, Clara; thank you, Sam.” Then she turned to Oliver. “It looks like you’re the tiebreaker. What do you think?”

  Levi hadn’t seen Oliver take a stand opposing any of Erin’s ideas so far this year and wasn’t surprised when Oliver voiced his support for including Grace Hamilton in the festival.

  “That’s settled then. I have to admit I wasn’t expecting this to be so contentious.” Erin frowned at Levi and Sam.

  Then she switched on a bright smile. “We need a picture of our committee with the new poster to share on social media.” She waved at the receptionist on the other side of the glass wall and Kate Little, a friendly woman in her forties, joined them in the conference room.

  Erin handed her phone to Kate. “Take lots of pictures. Make sure the sign is legible.” She took one of the new banners then signaled for the rest of them to gather around.

  Levi had had enough of posing for Erin’s Instagram account. “I’ll sit this one out.”

  This time Erin didn’t bother frowning, she just ignored him. “Everyone get in nice and close. Kate, maybe if you stand on a chair, you’ll get a better angle.”

  Levi knew social media was important for promoting events these days, and he gave Erin credit for being so good at it. Her skillful use of social media had probably been a big factor in getting her elected to the mayoral office.

  But it wasn’t for him. He still wasn’t on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter, though his office manager at the store made sure Woodland General Store had an active presence. Jess told him she was glad he was a technophobe. She said her friends were constantly being embarrassed by stuff their parents posted about them.

  “Thanks, Kate.” Erin took back her phone and within the minute informed them she had posted the photo. “I tagged all of you—except Levi, obviously—so make sure you comment and share.”

  As the group dispersed, each person taking a handful of the stickers to affix to as many posters as they possibly could, Erin singled him out. “Even Sam and Clara are on Facebook. You’re such a luddite.” She smiled to take any sting out of the insult. “Next year I’m thinking of making social media participation a requirement of being on the committee.”

  “Fine with me.”

  She looked suspicious. “You’re not going to volunteer next year, are you?”

  “I’ll still help with the set-up and tear-down. But sit on the organizing committee? No. That was the point of inviting you to be co-chair this year. I’d say you are more than ready to take on the full responsibility.”

  “So you think I’m doing a good job? Even though I let Clara add Grace Hamilton at the last minute?”

  “Yes, you’re doing a good job. And I may not like it myself, but you’re excellent at the social media stuff.”

  “I realize these platforms have a negative side. But there’s a lot of beauty too. It’s all in what you seek. I find if you put out positivity and light, that’s what you receive.”

  Levi believed in beauty and light, but not on the screen of his phone. He found it in the wetlands at dawn when an elegant blue heron took flight above a field of golden bulrushes. In the iridescent colors of the rufous hummingbird as it hovered over the purple blossom of a trumpet honeysuckle.

  But he wasn’t going to try to explain any of that to Erin. He’d found things that mattered most to a person didn’t always translate well when you put them into words.

  Unless you were Grace Hamilton…

  Her new book had been delivered to the store this morning and he’d spent his lunch hour gorging on it. He’d been just as impressed with the stories that accompanied each photograph as with the images themselves. She saw the joy and the tragedy in nature, the fragility and the strength, and that all of it was beautiful.

  He’d followed and admired her career from a distance for years. The distance was key. It was something he wanted to preserve. She’d flown so far in her life and career, while he’d become part of the bedrock of the small town he’d never left. He doubted she ever thought of him or that he’d been any part of the equation that had made her decide to come this year.

  Still, the inscription she’d chosen for the beginning of her book had given him pause. Be true to your work, your word, and your friend, by Henry David Thoreau. He wondered if she remembered that it was he who had introduced her to Thoreau. Not that it mattered. Henry David Thoreau was a widely quoted guy.

  It was just interesting. That was all.

  September 10, 1999

  New York University

  Dear Levi,

  Loved your sketch of the yellow warbler! There’s this American crow that seems determined to wake the entire dorm every morning with his ear-piercing cawing. My roommate has tried hurling things at him—shoes, books, empty beer bottles. She wants to chase him off, but I’m rooting for the crow. He reminds me of that immature raven you had eating literally out of your hand the last time we had lunch at the nature preserve. Remember what we did after that? I think about it all the time…

  Chapter Four

  Grace stood on Main Street, Woodland. She felt like she was in a dream or on a movie set. Instead of pinching herself she put a hand out to the brick façade of the East Central Bank. It felt solid and rough, and undeniably real, under her fingers.

  She’d done it. Come home. It was a sunny day, warm for October, and the maples and oaks on the park out front of the courthouse were astonishing, in every shade of red and orange and yellow that one could imagine.

  A few days from now volunteers would be erecting tents and pavilions in the park, but for now life was ordinary. Though she’d left her camera at home—deliberately because she became a different person when she had that Nikon strapped to her body—Grace found herself composing frames around the people she saw. A couple of older ladies sitting on a park bench chatting and chuckling. A father huffing, as he pushed a s
troller with two children facing each other up a hill. A young woman running effortlessly with a golden retriever attached by lead to her waist.

  The individual pictures added up to an idyllic scene, but the park could only hold her interest for so long. The place she’d really come to see was across the street.

  The general store was a lot as she remembered. White clapboard with a green and white striped awning over the porch. On either side of the double front doors were displays of pumpkins and autumn flowers, bins of in-season apples and pears, an American flag hung from the column to the left of the stairs. In the old days Grace knew Levi’s father had replaced it with a new flag every year. It looked like Levi had continued the tradition.

  Grace had walked here from Alicia and Sean’s home with the expressed intention of grabbing a coffee and a piece of pie at the general store. Sean was on duty at the firehall, the boys were in school and Alicia was teaching her second yoga class of the day. Grace had attended the first and had enjoyed it a lot more than she’d expected. Regular classes of any kind were difficult to fit into her vagabond lifestyle, though.

  She took a deep breath, then took the steps that led inside. The scent of the place was so familiar, instantly she felt eighteen again and instead of coffee she craved a hotdog and a Coke.

  A young man stood at the till, serving a middle-aged couple. She walked down the baking supplies aisle and ended up at the lunch counter where an old friend—Connie Wilson—was taking a tray of muffins from the oven. She paused to say hello and Connie smiled.

  “It’s been so long! I saw your name on the posters and could hardly believe you were coming to the festival this year.”

  “Too long,” Grace agreed. She and Connie had drifted apart within a year of starting university. Thanks to Alicia she knew Connie had been working at the general store since her divorce about ten years ago and had recently remarried.