Page 43 of Grace

“Nope. Just a customer.”

Abigail slapped herself on the forehead. “Oh! How could I have thought that a huge, hairy beast like you could have such a cute girlfriend?”

They both laughed in mirth—I didn’t get the joke, though. I stared at them in confusion, because Cyrus was handsome.

“And is there any chance she’s looking for a job? Because such a cute face would sell a lot of flowers…” she probed.

“Well, she’s not looking, but she could use one anyway.”

“I don’t have any qualifications…” I blurted out.

“Can you count?”

I nodded.

“If you can count the change and have an eye for how a nice bouquet should look, you’re hired. Don’t worry, girl, you’ll learn it in the blink of an eye.”

“I…” I looked at Cyrus desperately.

“Grace is going through a rough time right now. How about we discuss this a couple of weeks from now?”

“Okay, but don’t take too long. The girl from the library just dropped these off. What’s her name? I can’t remember.” She tried to recall the name, snapping her fingers.

“Mia,” Cyrus stepped in.

“Yes, Mia! It’s only three letters, but it’s still easy to forget.” She licked her fingers and went through the papers, reading the text above her glasses.

“Job advertisement.” She looked at me, tore off a square piece from the sheet, and gave it to me. “I don’t promise I’ll pick up the phone right away, but call me if you feel like returning to normal life, Grace.”

I took the note from her with shaking fingers. “How… how do you know?” Tears filled my eyes, and my lips were trembling.

“Darling, this is Willow Creek. You’re all over the news.”

I wanted to cry and hide in a corner. Still, I knew that I couldn’t afford to fall apart. The most difficult part was yet to come.

The town graveyard wasn’t too large. It was located in a flat area and didn’t have tall trees surrounding it. You could see every tombstone—organized in neat rows—from the parking lot.

I got out of the car, palms sweaty, heart racing—a tornado of emotions was whirling inside me. My head buzzed, my knees trembled. While my gaze searched the tombstones, I almost collapsed. The soft stalks of the tulips bent in my hand. I pulled them against my chest so hard they released sap, which trickled along my hand.

Cyrus touched my elbow gently. I looked at him with teary eyes, and for a brief moment, I found peace in those dark eyes. If I didn’t have him… If he didn’t support me… I was afraid to finish the thought.

He nudged me to start walking slowly and stayed by my side all the way. When we reached the chapel, I halted and could not speak. I knew the letters of the words I was looking for, but I couldn’t string them together. And my hearing… I could hear the groundskeeper’s voice and Cyrus’s deep grumble, but both seemed distant and distorted.

As soon as he pointed us in the right direction, Cyrus discreetly put his hand on my back and led me where I had never wanted to go. I wanted the trail to my parents’ grave to never end.

Our Parents

Richard McCarty

1950–2000

and his wife

Elizabeth McCarty

1952–2000

Loving parents will never be forgotten.