Return to Grace

by Bethany Surreira

  I walked across the floor and lowered myself down onto the edge of my white, metal daybed, taking in my childhood room. The bed sat underneath a large, long window that let in so much light in the afternoons, even on the dreariest of days. It always seemed to accentuate the white comforter, with its little pink rosebuds and green leaves. It was dainty and sweet, and not the least bit childish. The pillows were arranged along the back of the bed and appeared more like a couch.

  I could remember the day we bought the bedding set as if it were yesterday. It was pouring outside and Dad dropped us off in front of the bedding store while he went to park the car. We, as usual, had forgotten umbrellas and were soaking wet despite being dropped off close to the door. Mom and I had laughed as we watched Dad run to the entrance, trying to dodge grocery carts being blown across the parking lot.

  “Very funny, ladies! Next time, I’ll make you run with me,” he threatened, shaking his jacket at us and covering us with rainwater.

  “It’s just a little rain, Daddy,” I said, shaking my jacket at him in retaliation.

  I hooked my arm into my mom’s and went inside. The three of us had walked around the store for hours looking at towels and dishes and toaster ovens. We had no need to be shopping, but sometimes it was fun to look. We were just about to leave the store when I spotted the comforter on the display bed.

  “Mom! Please, can I have this? It’s so pretty!” I jumped up and down in excitement and begged my mom to buy it for me.

  “Paul? What do you think?” Mom asked Dad with a smile.

  “I don’t see why not. You sure you don’t want to keep your My Little Pony sheets forever?” he teased.

  “Positive!” I said with a laugh. I did love those pony sheets, though.

  “You know what this means, though, don’t you?” he asked. Mom and I both shook our heads in confusion. “You definitely need the matching pillows!”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I ducked so I wouldn’t get pelted by a pillow. Only my dad would start a pillow fight in the middle of a store. He lived by the “you break it, you buy it” rule, and since he was already buying these, he hadn’t minded if anything happened to them. I could remember one of the associates laughing with us as she walked by, shaking her head.

  “These are the times to remember,” she told my parents. “They’re only little once.”

  The rain had stopped by the time we were done shopping, and we all walked to the car together, each holding onto a bag. I jumped in every single puddle we passed, successfully splashing my dad with each strategic plop. By the time we got to the car, he was soaked from his mid-calf all the way down to his toes. My mom could barely breathe from laughing so hard, and I was full of love and content.

  Those were the days.

  My little pink teddy bear lay across the pillow closest to the head of the bed, practically begging to be picked up. Caleb had given it to me on our first Valentine’s Day. I was fourteen. He was so proud of himself for getting me something that was sweet but not too cheesy. It was the first night we said I love you to each other. We were so young but that never mattered. It was real. We knew it. Everyone knew it.

  I grabbed the bear and held it close, remembering the look on Caleb’s face as he handed it to me, tied to the biggest box of chocolates I had ever seen. He was pale but blushing at the same time, and he looked like he was going to throw up. He really was the cutest.

  I put the bear back in its spot on the bed and wiped a tear from my eye as I stood up. I walked over to my dresser and ran my fingers along the top. My jewelry box remained in the same spot it had since I got it for Christmas when I was thirteen. That was also the year I got my ears pierced and was gifted my mother’s pearl earrings. What teenager needed pearls?

  I brought my hand up to my face and rubbed a finger over my naked ear. I opened the bottom drawer of my jewelry box and felt around for the earrings. There they sat on top of the small note my mother had written for me when she gave them to me. No grit, no pearl. I lived my life by those words, now more than ever. My drive and determination had come from my mother. I closed the jewelry box and put the pearls on. I knew they wouldn’t bring her back, but I felt closer to her with them on.

  A replica of the picture I had flipped over in my apartment stared back at me from atop my dresser. Only this time, I left it up. I sucked in a long, deep breath and closed my eyes before I slowly blew the air back out.

  Why had I spent so many years pretending my mother didn’t exist? I would give anything to tell her I was sorry. I thought I was grown, making decisions like eliminating people from my life I thought were toxic. But now my immaturity was showing through, and I was paying for even more mistakes than I had thought I’d made.

  I opened my tote bag, pulled out my laptop, and plugged the charger into the wall. Ugh, I did not want to turn it on. Lord only knew what kind of email Cameron had sent me.

  As I waited for my MacBook to boot up, I unpacked the rest of my stuff. Luckily, I was the same size as I had been when I left, so I hadn’t needed to pack too many outfits. No “freshman fifteen” here, thank you very much!

  I opened my old closet and saw that my mother must have been in here because all my clothes were arranged for the winter season and not the end of the summer, as it had been before I left. Oh, Mom. Couldn’t help yourself, huh? She was always one to be organized. Or, it was wishful thinking that her trip to visit me was going to bring me home. Well, Mom, it worked.

  I hung up my dresses and blouses and shut the closet door quickly, as if leaving the door open would allow all of my old memories to come falling out.

  I logged into my work email and scanned the messages for Cameron’s name, finding nothing. Message after message from clients and my associates, but nothing from Cameron. That was weird. I went to my purse to grab my phone and noticed it wasn’t there. I really hoped I hadn’t left it on the train.

  I was logging into my personal email when I heard a knock on the front door followed by my dad’s footsteps shuffling along the wood floor. It was probably someone dropping off a casserole.

  The door opened and I leaned back in my chair trying to listen to what the muffled voices were saying. I could have gotten up and gone downstairs to see for myself, but where was the fun in that? The door closed and I heard footsteps thumping up the back steps. I was so startled by the sound that I leaned too far back and the chair fell over, dumping me onto the floor.

  “Knock, knock,” came from the other side of the door. Before I could respond, my dad opened the door. “Missing this?” he asked, waving my phone. He stopped and looked at me quizzically as I scrambled to get off the floor.

  “My phone! I was just looking for it. Thank you. Did I leave it downstairs?”

  “Not quite. You didn’t tell me you saw Caleb at the train station,” he declared, raising an eyebrow.

  “Uh, I saw Caleb at the train station,” I said softly, biting the corner of my bottom lip.

  “Yeah, I gathered that since he just came to my front door to drop off your phone.”

  “What?! He was here? How did he have my phone?” I quickly pushed my hair behind her ears and wiped the non-existent mascara from under my eyes.

  “Well, apparently when you bumped into him, you must have dropped your phone and it fell into his bag. He went to get his student’s papers to grade and saw the phone. Knew it was yours from the wallpaper picture of Gnocchi.”

  “Wow, this day keeps getting weirder.” I laughed lightly. “Um, what else did he say?” I asked, hoping my father wouldn’t be able to tell I was digging for more than I needed to know.

  “He just wanted to reach out and offer his condolences. Your mother was like a second mother to him, you know. He came around here often after you left. We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want to upset you. It was really hard on your mom when he left for Tennessee, too,” he told her.

  “Tennessee? What are you talking about?” I asked, confused.

  “Yep.
Tennessee,” he said with a wink before he walked out of my room and headed back to his paper downstairs.

  “Wait, where are you going? Don’t leave me hanging like this, Dad,” I called out after him.

  “It can wait,” he replied.

  Grading papers? I thought Caleb was going to be helping Dooley Butler on his farm. That’s why he hadn’t come to the city with me. I knew I shouldn’t be mad, but it still hurt that I hadn’t known what had been going on in Caleb’s life while I was off living mine.

  I shook my head and looked down to see many text message notifications on the screen of my cell phone. I really needed to sync my laptop with my phone. It was the twenty-first century, after all. I read through the messages from Sara, my assistant Casey, and Josh. But there was still no word from Cameron, so I decided to give the office a buzz. No one answered so I left a brief message. With a sigh, I got to work on the Portugal project.

  If there was anything I was great at, it was deflecting from my current issue. My mother’s death should have been a reason for me to slow down and think about things, but as usual, I drowned myself in my work. If I just worked a little bit longer and a little bit harder, maybe I could forget why I was home. Maybe I could get to the point in my career where anything that happened in my past was just a distant memory. Yeah, right. I’d never be able to forget this happened—or forgive myself.

  I worked for a few more hours on the prep work for the resort in Portugal. Although I hadn’t even been there, Sara told me so much about the country that I felt as if I’d visited many times. This project was different from the Vermont one for John because it was strictly a beach resort, and I had never worked on anything international or without snow.

  When I had researched all I could, I retreated to my bed, crawled under the covers, and grabbed the remote. I knew there would be a marathon of cheesy Christmas movies on my favorite channel, so I settled in for a long night of guilty pleasure movie watching. I used to spend hours watching these movies with my mom.

  Before I knew it, I was crying myself to sleep.

  10

  The sun beat down on me, and I blinked repeatedly trying to remember where I was. I lifted the comforter off me and went to take a shower. Even my bathroom was the same as it had been seven years ago. I stared at myself in the mirror as I waited for the water to heat up.

  How many times had I looked into this very mirror, yet it all seemed so foreign to me now? I blew out a long breath and got into the shower, letting the hot water drown out my thoughts.

  Ten minutes later, I was downstairs pouring myself a cup of coffee from my dad’s French press. It beat Starbucks any day of the week; I didn’t care what anyone else thought.

  “Morning, pumpkin. I trust you slept well?” Dad asked, kissing me on the forehead. “It sure is good to have you home.”

  “It was great, Daddy. Want me to make breakfast?”

  “Already done. Blueberry pancakes and sausage. Your favorite,” he responded, handing me two plates. “Why don’t you go set the table, and I’ll bring everything over. You want butter for your pancakes, too?”

  I nodded and smiled at him. It took the death of my mother for me to come back home and spend time with my father. That was so messed up. I placed some napkins and forks on the table and sat down, waiting for my dad to sit before I started to eat.

  “Dad, these are amazing. Is this the syrup you make from the trees out back? I can’t believe you still have the time to do all this every single year.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He took a big gulp of his coffee and wiped his mouth with a light blue fabric napkin. “I’ll be making this syrup for as long as this old body lets me. It calms me.”

  “Then I’ll be eating it for as long as this body lets me,” I told him, shoving another big forkful of pancake into my mouth. “What’s on the agenda for today, Dad? I do need to get a little bit of work done, but then I’m all yours. I thought maybe we could walk to town together and get lunch or something?”

  “Well, there isn’t too much planning needed for the funeral. Your mother had always told me over the years to not make a fuss over her services. But if you don’t mind calling Becky down at The Flower Pot, I’d appreciate it. Maybe we can go to town another day? There are some things that aren’t related to the funeral that I’d like to take care of.”

  “You got it, Dad. I understand,” I said quietly.

  “Thank you for calling The Flower Pot,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “This is Jackie. How may I help you today?”

  “Oh, hey, Jackie. It’s Leah Abernathy. Is your mom around?” I asked.

  “Sure, just a second. I think she’s with my dad right now, but I’ll see if I can sneak her away for you. Hey, listen, I’m really sorry to hear about your mom. She was a really nice lady,” Jackie added before she rushed off the phone and went in search of her mom.

  I nervously chewed on the side of my thumbnail as I waited for Becky to pick up. Becky was my mom’s best friend. I had known her my whole life and knew this conversation was not going to be easy.

  “Leah!” Becky exclaimed. “I’m so happy to hear your voice. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay,” I lied. I was horrible, actually.

  “Oh, honey, I can’t imagine being in your shoes right now. What can I do?” Becky asked.

  “My dad asked me to call you about the flowers for the funeral. I know lilies are the traditional funeral flower, but you know how much my mom loved yellow roses. I was thinking—well, hoping—you might be able to get some for the services. I know it’s December and probably not the best time to be asking.”

  “Leah, you could ask me for hot pink sunflowers and I would make it happen. If you’re okay with it, you can leave all the flowers to me, and I’ll have it all set up for you the morning of the funeral. Do you know when her services will be yet?” she questioned.

  Becky would have done anything for my mom and that meant continuing to do anything for me and my dad. She had the purest heart out of anyone I had ever met, and I was happy to know that if I couldn’t have my mom, I at least had Becky to lean on.

  “I’ll call you back either this afternoon or tomorrow when I know more. My dad said we’re going to wait a bit for the actual funeral. He hasn’t mentioned it, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he was trying to have it a little closer to the festival as sort of an honor to her. You know how much she loved Christmas and that festival.”

  “Okay, love. I’ll speak with you soon. Give my love to your dad,” Becky said, then hung up the phone before I had a chance to say goodbye.

  I envied Becky’s all-business demeanor, even in the face of a crisis. I grabbed my coat and purse and yelled back over my shoulder to let my dad know I was walking into town for a bit. I needed some fresh air, and what better way to get that than to take a brisk walk in the snow?

  The walk to town was shorter than my morning commute to the office, but it seemed to take hours. I spent so much time taking in all my surroundings, as if I had never been here before. The giant pine trees that lined the sidewalk and the festively lit homes whose lights sparkled like sun in the snow brought back such happy memories, while simultaneously breaking my heart little by little. My head dropped in disappointment at the sight of a family taking their annual pictures with Santa in the gazebo on the green. What I wouldn’t give to be able to do that again. I didn’t even care that I was a grown adult.

  The door to the bakery flew open, sending the sticky sweet scent from the cookie dough batter sailing through the air and directly into my nostrils. The line to Mrs. Kratz’s bakery, The Kratz Outta the Bag, was almost around the corner, and I wasn’t surprised one bit. The bakery was always busy, but the Christmas season tended to bring customers from all over the county hoping to get a box of her famous sugar cookies. Every year, my mom and I would bundle up in our coziest sweaters, hats, and mittens and walk from our farmhouse into town to grab a box of Mrs. Kratz’s Kristmas Kookies!

  Having Mrs
. Kratz as a neighbor had always given us head-of-the-line perks, but that day, I walked up to the old bakery not knowing what to expect. I opened the door and my eyes were immediately drawn to the small porcelain Christmas tree with colored lights that I had gifted to Mrs. Kratz when I was a kid.

  It was rare for a table to be free on the first day of the Christmas season, unless you came in early. But if you were lucky enough to snag one, you’d get to see Mr. Kratz drag in his big red bin containing all the Christmas ornaments. Sometimes, you’d even see him bringing in a small, freshly chopped tree to display in the storefront window. Each year, the tree was more beautiful and more extravagant, carefully decorated with ornaments handmade by the children in town. Mrs. Kratz always said, “Christmas isn’t Christmas unless things are made with love.”

  “Good afternoon to my favorite little girl!” Mrs. Kratz called from over the counter to me. She wiped her hands on a towel and walked around to the side to hug me.

  I wasn’t prepared for the overwhelming feeling of regret I had for not coming back home sooner. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to see me, and I had left them all in the dust for my own personal gain.

  “It’s been ages, my sweet girl. How I have missed you!” she exclaimed, not letting me go. “Let me get a look at you.”

  Mrs. Kratz loosened her grip just enough to sneak a quick peek and then brought me back in for one more hug. This time, it was me who held on a little bit longer.

  “Oh, Mrs. Kratz! I can’t believe you still run this place! I was hoping I would get to see you while I’m home,” I said with a smile reminiscent of my childhood days in this very spot. For the first time since I had come back home, I felt a strong happiness and not just the comfort of being at the house with my dad again.

  “Ooh! My girl! Let me get you a coffee and some cookies and we will chat. Why don’t you go take a seat over there in the corner like you used to? I’ll have Bernie move the bins in just a second,” she said and she disappeared into the back of the kitchen, her hair net sliding off on the left side of her head.