The muscles along Grace’s jaw flex slightly. “I heard he died. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Diana says, grief rippling through her body, the way it always does when she has to acknowledge his death. “That’s why I’m here. I want to talk to you about the time Tom spent on your farm.”
“That was long ago. I have no wish to revisit it.” The dog nuzzles the backs of Grace’s knees. “Now, you’ll excuse me. I have much to do.”
Diana hasn’t let herself consider that Grace might turn her away. “This is important. You’ll want to hear me out.”
“I’llwant to hear you out?” Grace wrenches open the door and shoos the dog inside. Her face is red, and her arm shakes as she holds on to the knob. “You don’t know me, and all I know about you is that you came to my home yesterday under what appear to be false pretenses. You’ve returned today, invading my privacy and demanding I talk about a difficult time without any regard for my feelings. You should leave.” She follows the dog inside, slamming the door behind her.
Diana sinks onto the steps, holding her head in her hands. Shame coats her skin like an oily film. Grace is right: She never once thought about this other woman’s feelings. Not once.
Diana doesn’t look at her watch or her phone as she remains on the steps, so she’s not certain how much time passes. Fifteen minutes? Thirty? An hour? All she thinks about is how cold she is, how quiet it is here on the farm, how stiff her back is from sitting hunched over, how she should leave this place and head home to her children. But she doesn’t move, paralyzed by the idea of departing without answers.
She’s counting the apple trees when Grace opens the door.
“You’re still here.”
Diana stands, her back muscles twitching. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come to the open house. Or at least I should have told you yesterday who I was.” Duncan’s face flashes in her mind, and Diana stiffens her shoulders, trying to mimic her son’s stance when he argues with her. “I’m here because I made a promise to my son”—Diana’s voice cracks—“and I won’t disappoint him.”
Frowning, Grace stares at her feet. Diana holds her breath, hoping what she’s said is persuasive. The pressure makes her lungs seize and her eyes water, and she fears she’ll pass out there on the porch.
Diana exhales only when Grace looks up, meeting her eyes with an unreadable glare. Without a word, the older woman spins around and returns inside, closing the door behind her.
Diana holds on to the porch railing to keep herself from collapsing. Maybe this is as far as she can take this. Maybe she’ll have to learn to live without answers.
Yet she’s so close.
With each second Diana remains on the porch, her hope that Grace might help her fades. Finally, Diana’s shoulders cave in, and she steps down onto the walkway.I’m sorry,she thinks, though to whom she sends the apology, she’s not sure.
That’s when the kitchen door opens again, and Grace emerges holding her coat. Her dog is at her heels. “Would you like to join Scout and me for a walk?” Grace asks, gesturing across her property. “If we’re going to do this, I need to be outside.”
“A walk would be good,” Diana answers, hope rising within her once again.
Grace joins Diana on the path. Despite the chill, she refrains from putting on her coat. She stands with the enviable posture of a ballet dancer, her spine locked, her head held high. A black headband holds her thick gray hair off her face. Her nose is straight and narrow, and tortoiseshell eyeglasses hang from the pocket of her chambray shirt. With the sleeves rolled up, she looks exactly like a small-town farmer,competent and practical, prepared to bale hay, ride a horse, or clean out a dusty attic. So different from yesterday.
It takes Diana a few seconds to notice what else is different about Grace, and when she does, when she sees Grace’s arms, she bites the inside of her mouth, the metallic taste of blood mixing with saliva.
The skin on the underside of Grace’s forearms is puckered and red. The scarring reappears on her neck, stopping below her chin. Her right ear is smaller than the left, as if part of it has disappeared or, more likely in Grace’s case, has been burned away.
Diana read about Grace’s injuries in the newspaper, but in person, they are staggering. During the open house, Grace was bundled up in a knit blanket, so Diana hadn’t taken in the damage. Now, she can’t pull her eyes away.
Grace is showing Diana what was done to her by the fire to make a point, to send a message, and Diana grasps for what to say. “I hope you’re better today. Yesterday ...”
Grace shrugs on her coat as Diana’s words die off. “Go,” she says to Scout, and the dog takes off to chase an unlucky squirrel.
The two women walk, their steps slow but steady. Neither speaks. While Grace appears content with the silence, Diana is agitated, understanding she’s on unstable ground. She has so many questions, such an acute need for Grace to tell her what happened all those years ago, but now, here, in this other woman’s sadness, she’s not sure how to begin, which question to ask first.
Scout trots back to Grace, panting, the squirrel long gone. Grace bends down to pick up a gnarled stick and tosses it a few feet to the right. Scout races off after it, his tail wagging with excitement.
As Grace stands up, a twinge of pain flickers across her face. Diana recognizes the melancholy this other woman carries. It’s in her profile, the downward slant of her mouth, and the way the air around her is laden with pain and regret.
Grace gestures to the broken paddock fence. “This all looked different when Tom was with us. William and some friends built the barnthat first summer we were on the farm. He carved our initials into the rafters and promised we’d grow old here together.”
In her coat pocket, Diana clenches the rock from Grace’s yard, focusing on the sharp point digging into her skin, letting the pain keep her upright.
“Why did you come back?” Grace asks.
“I wanted to ask you about Tom and the time he worked for you and your husband.”
