Grace

Grace moved the tote bag in her left hand now. It was worn and fthe once vibrant green color of it had faded to a dull gray-green from years of use. Today the bag was heavy and her right arm was already sore from the weight of it. She looked up the hill. Not much further to go. One foot plodded along in front of the other. She listened to her breathing and heard a wheezing sound she hadn't noticed before. Perhaps while she was in town, she'd get the good doctor to take a quick peek at her, look her over . . . tell her not to worry.

This doctor was nicer than the last one that had breezed through town. Grace recalled how the young man who had been the town's only doctor for the previous three years had treated her the few times she'd been to see him. Dr. Myser, or Myer or something. Myser. That was it. She remembered how his name seemed to suit his personality. He sure was stingy when it came to kindness. Kept all his smiles and nice words for the single young ladies and his giant of a dog. Anyone with a husband or boyfriend waiting in the reception room just wasn't worth his time, and especially anyone "old."

He was always rolling his eyes at Grace's complaints, but he kept his head down, eyes on his clipboard as though that shielded him from view. Grace saw the looks but she'd just been too proud to say anything about it. She hadn't even told Buddy. Buddy might have made a scene and then what would they have done if one them had needed emergency care? Why, it would have been humiliating to go to Dr. Myser then. No, Grace had borne the shame of his rudeness in silence. Always that doctor would say, "Oh, Mrs. Lister, you're making something out of nothing again." Grace would blush and feel guilty for taking up his time and then she would go home and bear her pain in silence. "Go on home, Mrs. Lister, and let me deal with real patients, not cry babies like you." He'd never actually said that last, but Grace always had the feeling that he sure wanted to say it.

She switched the bag to her right hand again, and waggled the fingers of her left. If she didn't know better, she'd almost swear her rheumatism was getting worse now instead of better and it always seemed to get better in the spring. May as well ask the doctor about that too, since she had to go about her terrible breathing anyway. The horn from a passing car honked and Grace lifted her free hand in acknowledgment. It went by too fast. She hadn't had a chance to see who it was. Well, it was heading west. Only a few houses and then farmland as you went further west.

It was probably her neighbors, Joe and Louise. She'd noticed that their car wasn't in the driveway when she'd started out. They might have been up at the grocery store or the post office. No, too early for the post office yet, so most likely it was just grocery shopping. But it was only Wednesday. They didn't do their grocery shopping until Thursday. So maybe it wasn't them at all. Could have been Mr. Carter or one of the Benson kids. Oh, who knew. Point was, Grace thought, she had good neighbors, friendly folks who were always kind enough to say hello. It seemed a shame that whoever it was hadn't stopped to offer her a lift. Her legs were tiring from the walk up the steep hill, but then they'd been going the opposite direction after all.

Funny, but when the kids were small, the walk up the hill hadn't seemed so long. And then when they were teenagers, they did all the errand running for that extra bottle of milk, or flat of eggs. Eggs. Yes. Grace made a mental note to pick up some eggs after her visit to the doctor, since she was going into town anyway.

Grace sighed and shifted the bag again. She lifted her head and shaded her eyes against the bright morning sun. Not many people out and about on a Wednesday morning, she noted. Such a shame. A ride to town would have been nice. Perhaps there would be neighbors about in the afternoon who might be kind enough to give her a lift back home, although the walk would be much easier going downhill, and without the sun so much in her eyes then, too.

Not much further now. The church was very nearly in full view. Beyond it was the grocer's, then the bakery and hardware store. Across from them were the beauty parlor and the clothing store. Down on the next block were the post office and bank. And across the street from the bank was the hotel where the bar served more townies than tourists. Funny how the town planners thought to put the bank across from a bar. Grace shook her head. She'd heard stories of some of the young men spending half of their pay checks in there, putting the families they claimed to love so much in jeopardy. Last year, one of those foolish men lost his wife because of it. Served him right. Allison Parker ran off with one of the boys from the railroad crew that was passing through town. Served him right.

Buddy would never do anything so foolish as fritter away half his earnings on garbage like that. Sure Buddy liked his drink with the boys once in awhile, but never to excess. Buddy was always responsible and could always be counted on to be at church every Sunday, passing the collection plate and saying, "Praise the Lord."

Grace smiled. She looked high up to the church steeple and remembered the year that Buddy and all the other men from the parish had gathered together and donated the lumber and their labor to fixing that old steeple when a bad storm had knocked it down. They had it up, reaching to heaven even before the telephone boys got the lines fixed so everybody could phone one another to discuss their collective town pride and love of God. Nobody did that anymore—phoned each other over some big community event. Computers. That's what did it. Town pride? Love of God? Long gone, except for the old timers and there were less and less them every year.

Grace stopped for a moment at the steps of the church and looked at the heavy oak doors and the stained glass windows. It looked today exactly as it had fifty-six years earlier when Buddy had walked down those stairs with her and tried to shield them both from the pelting rice. That was a beautiful day. Grace smiled at the memory of her mother and father and all of the friends that she and Buddy had known. Most of them were gone now. Agnes, the perky little blonde that had been Grace's Maid of Honor had ended up marrying a military man and the last Grace heard, they'd been stationed in Germany. Grace wondered what might have happened to them and berated herself for not keeping in touch with the ones who moved away. Grace wasn't good at letter writing and that sort of thing, and as the years passed, she and Buddy lost contact with one friend after another. Except for the ones who stayed in town, like Millie, Dorothy, Bill and Joan, and oh, the girls from the Whist Club. They were a close bunch and Grace was glad of it. It was nice to be able to go over to a friend's house for tea now and then, and it certainly was a good way to pass the time.

Grace sighed and moved the bag back to her other hand again. She'd been standing in front of the church far too long, just staring at the steeple, lost in thought. If she stayed here much longer, people might begin to think she'd gone a little fey, if anybody happened to be around to see her that was. Alzheimer's they called it now. It seemed so much kinder to call it fey, but doctors sure love their fancy names for things.

Grace looked further down the street and saw Joe sitting in his car, reading a book. Grace nodded. Louise must be in the beauty parlor. Oh, yes of course. Wednesday. Louise always got her hair done on Wednesday. The same coif she'd had for as long as Grace could remember, except that now, Louise had it tinted a pale purple color. Grace thought gray was more dignified, but it was none of her business. She'd told Louise her thoughts once, about how that funny tinting made a person look like she had cotton candy on her head. Louise had sniffed and said that if other women wanted to go around with steel wool for hair, that was fine, but she preferred the softer look. Louise had only just been polite to Grace for a few weeks after that and not truly neighborly, but it had passed and Buddy's sense of humor had helped Grace through the sting of Louise's rejection. She remembered he'd said, "Now Gracie, Love, you have to remember that Louise has always had her head in the clouds. Now it just shows more." They'd had a good laugh over that. Louise may have funny hair, but she's a good gal, Grace thought as she stood before the church.

Grace set her bag down on the bottom step of the wide staircase and squinted at her watch. Quarter to eleven. Grace wondered what she'd do for fifteen minutes. She thought about going around the corner to the coffee shop, but by the time she got there, she'd just have to leave again. Perhaps she could go in and make a doctor's appointment, but that wasn't really necessary. Doctor Finch was nothing like Doctor Myser.

You couldn't see Dr. Myser without an appointment unless it was an extreme emergency. But Dr. Finch was so much nicer. A nice young woman with long brown hair that she tied back just a little too severely. And smile. Oh, the most beautiful smile Grace had ever seen. A smile that seemed to say, "Come in, tell me everything because I truly like you." Grace never felt ashamed of being sick with the good doctor. Grace checked her watch again. Eleven more minutes. She picked up her bag and walked slowly towards the grocery store. Maybe she'd get the eggs now. But what if there was a line up? It didn't look like there were too many people around right now, but you just never knew. It could suddenly get quite busy. Better not to go in there just yet.

She considered going in to the beauty parlor and pass the time talking with Louise, but remembered how she had missed the post office the last time she'd done something so silly. When Grace stopped in at the beauty shop, she was sure to stay too long and see too many familiar faces and one tea would turn into three or four and, no. Not the beauty shop.

She checked her watch a third time. Eight more minutes. Grace walked up the street a little way, leaving her bag on the church steps. She paused at the telephone booth, stepped inside and pushed the coin return button. A quarter fell into the tray and Grace fished it out awkwardly, her fingers hurting from the rheumatism. She picked up the receiver, dropped the quarter in the slot, and punched in Millicent's phone number on the keypad.

"Hello, Millie. How are you?" Grace looked out to the street, to Joe and Louise's parked car where Joe was looking at her. Grace waved and Joe waved back before returning to his book.

"Well, I'm in town and wondered if you were busy later." Grace smoothed the lapels of her coat and hoped it wouldn't be too warm to walk home in because she certainly hated to carry it back all that way.

"Tea? Yes, that's a wonderful idea. I was going to ask you to join me at the coffee shop, but I think it would be so much nicer in your nice, warm kitchen . . . Yes, I'm in town now. Errands and so on. I think I might go see the doctor today and pick up a few groceries and maybe get my hair done."

Grace closed her eyes and smiled.

"Thank you Millie, for remembering. It is today. I didn't think anyone would remember . . . No, the kids haven't called me yet, but I think they will later. They always remember, but usually not until later in the day . . . Okay then. I'll see you later on . . . Bye bye."

Grace checked her watch again. Three minutes to eleven o'clock. She walked back to the church, retrieved her bag, and walked around to the back, down the tiny path that passed through a grove of trees and came out at the clearing. She strode purposefully toward the last marker in the third row, tears beginning to mist in her eyes.

Grace carefully kneeled down and kissed the stone before her. She opened the bag and withdrew a small pouch. She poured rice into her hand and then tossed the handful into the air. She'd been careful to cook the rice first and dry it so that the birds wouldn't get sick from it. Rice throwing wasn't really allowed anymore since the town's resident animal activist had insisted it was a danger to wildlife. Grace hoped her method worked. She wanted to be good to the birds and keep old traditions alive at the same time.

"Happy Anniversary, Buddy!"

Next came fresh flowers, red roses that the grocer special ordered for her every year, just as he'd always done and his father before him.

Next was the champagne. Grace worked at the cork, twisting hard with her crooked fingers until it finally gave and she poured a small bit into each of the two plastic cups she'd brought.

Lastly, she pulled from the bag a large chunk of wood, all that was left of the elm tree that had stood in the front yard of their first home. Carved into the rough wood was B.L. + G. L. Forever. A large awkward heart surrounded the sharp lines of the initials that Buddy had carved into the tree on the day they were married. The tree was cut down because of Dutch Elm disease, but Buddy had cut this piece and kept it as a keepsake.

Grace lifted her glass in toast.

"To us Buddy." She dabbed at her wet eyes with her fingertips as she prepared to recite Buddy's speech. "To a long and prosperous life together, full of the love and laughter that we brought together on this day in 1942." Grace took a sip from her glass and set it down. She lifted Buddy's glass high and sighed.

"Every year, on this day, at eleven a.m., you and I stood under those beautiful budding branches, getting all giddy over this carving and we promised to always love each other as much as we did on the day we were wed. But Buddy, I lied to you all these years. I never loved you the way I did the day we were married." She pulled a handkerchief from her coat pocket and wiped the tears from under her eyes.

"Forgive me the lie Buddy. I only said it every year because it was what we always said. But the truth is I never loved you the way I did the day we were married . . . because each year, I loved you more.

"To us."

Salty tears and Buddy's champagne touched her lips at the same moment.