It was noon and Grace still hadn’t come out of her room. I stood in front of her door three times already, pressing my ear against the wood and listening. It was quiet. I knew she hadn’t left yet because her car was still parked in the driveway with the hood popped up. Joe said he ordered the parts and that one of the guys from the auto shop would be here this evening to x it. I hoped he wouldn’t show. Albert wasn’t here either. His bedroom door was open, and the bed was made like he hadn’t slept in it last night. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, I lled it with water and chugged the whole thing. I still felt parched, and it seemed like nothing could quench my thirst. Re lling it again, I took a seat at the kitchen table and waited for Grace. My goal was to look nonchalant—like I wasn’t waiting for her—but I’m sure it was plastered all over my face, written in Sharpie: I NEED YOU HERE WITH ME NOW.
Finally, I heard her creaky bedroom door open. Her footsteps were light and then another door closed—the bathroom, I presumed. I considered getting up and waiting outside of it for her but gured that would be too much, so I stayed put. She was already scared and skittish. I unfolded the local newspaper and pretended to read it. e toilet ushed. e faucet ran. You could hear everything in this house. e door opened. Her footsteps were light again but grew louder. en they stopped suddenly. She was just standing in the hallway, listening. When she appeared in the kitchen, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. Cliché, I know. But it’s true. Grace always took
my breath away.
She was dressed in a white T-shirt and black leggings. Her hair was pulled up in a high ponytail. Her makeup didn’t cover the dark circles under her eyes.
“Good afternoon,” I said with a smile.
She gave a tight smile back. “Hey.”
Grace walked to the co ee pot, not making eye contact with me. I turned around and watched her pour herself a cup.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded and took a sip. Grace slid a piece of bread into the toaster and collected everything she needed to make peanut butter toast. Her back was to me while she waited for her toast to be done.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Grace didn’t turn around. She just nodded again. e bread shot out of the toaster like a jack-in-the-box. She jumped a little. Her muscles tensed, and she took a moment to compose herself. Grace pulled the toast out and slathered it with butter and peanut butter. She was acting strange, but could I blame her? Joe really shook her up, and I wondered what he had said. She opted to stand at the counter to eat her toast and drink her co ee, rather than sit with me.
“Betty’s coming over today to replace the drapes,” I said, trying to get her to talk to me.
Grace just stood there, chewing on her toast—not saying a word.
“Joe spent the night in county jail. ey’re charging him with arson. He just can’t stay outta trouble. I told him not to come around here no more.” I sipped my water and set the glass back down on the table.
Grace drank the rest of her co ee and then topped it o . She returned to her half-eaten piece of toast.
“Have you seen Albert?” I asked.
She shook her head and crossed one leg in front of the other.
“Ummmph. I haven’t seen him since last night when the police showed up.
Must have spooked him.” Grace said nothing.
I gestured to a chair. “You know you can sit at the table and eat.”
She shoved the rest of the toast into her mouth and rinsed o her plate. Grace was a feisty one. Picking up her co ee mug, she started toward her bedroom but stopped before venturing down the hallway. Slowly, she turned around.
“ e lock you put on my door.” “Yeah,” I said.
Her eyes narrowed in an accusatory way. “You installed it the wrong way.” She raised her chin and put her free hand on her hip. “Was that intentional? Are you trying to keep me here?” Her voice had a tinge of frustration in it— mixed with something else. It was fear. Grace was afraid of me.
“No, of course not.” I stood too quickly. e chair reeled backward and hit the oor with a thud.
Grace took a step back. Her eyes went to the porch door and then back to me.
I bent down slowly and picked up the chair. Shaking my head, I looked over at her. e whites of her eyes were on full display.
“It was an honest mistake. I’ll x it, okay?”
She pursed her lips together. “An honest mistake? Honest? You sure about that?” she asked, cocking her head.
Grace was hiding something, but what was it? What did Joe tell her? What did she nd? She was treating me like a stranger—no, worse than that, like I was a danger to her.
“Yes, honest. Like I said, I’ll x it.”
“You do whatever you want. I’m going for a run.” She stomped toward her bedroom. “One of the guys from the auto shop is swinging by to x your car tonight,” I called out.
“Good,” Grace yelled over her shoulder.
I let out a deep breath. How had things gotten so bad so quickly? e more time I spent with Grace, the less I seemed to know about her. She was a peculiar woman, and she was clearly hiding something. I suppose we all were.
But living alone on a ranch with only animals to talk to, you learn what the
animal will do before it does it. And at the core, we’re all animals.
