by Ashlee Price
“I used a wrench,” she answers as she slowly stands up. “I was looking for cooking equipment.”
My jaw clenches. “I told you…”
“You told me this was a storage room.” She turns to me with her forehead creased. “But it’s not that, is it?”
I shake my head. “You weren’t supposed to be in this room.”
“This was a nursery, wasn’t it?” Grace raises her voice. “Did we have a baby, Travis?”
“No.”
She steps forward. “What happened to her, huh?”
I step aside. “Get out.”
“Why didn’t you tell me there was a baby? Why didn’t you…?”
“Because she wasn’t your baby!” I shout as I feel my own temper rising. “She was mine.”
“What?”
“Mine and my first wife’s. And now both she and the baby are gone.”
Her eyes grow wide.
I swallow. “Now get out of this room.”
“Oh, I will get out of this room.” She stands in front of me with tears in her eyes. “And out of this house. And out of your life. I don’t need a marriage based on secrets and lies.”
“And I don’t need a wife who doesn’t even know me,” I spit out without thinking.
Grace purses her lips. For a moment, she just stands there, glaring at me with her hands curled into fists as a tear rolls down her cheek. Then she rushes out of the room, down the corridor and down the stairs.
I ignore Toby’s stare and slide down the door slowly as I grip the mittens to my chest.
Then my own tears start to fall.
Chapter 12
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.
Chapter 13
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 d
o 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.”