Chapter Eighteen
Scout moves closer to Grace, placing himself between his owner and Diana, a low growl in his throat. Diana steps back, her hands up.
“It’s all right, Scout,” Grace says, turning around. Her gaze fixes on Diana. “What do you mean by ‘I don’t know what my life is anymore’?”
Diana stuffs her hands into her coat pockets, her fingers seeking out that rock, squeezing it tight. “Losing Tom was devastating. Is still devastating. Learning he kept things from me? It’s as if the ground underneath me isn’t there anymore. It’s an awful feeling, and I can’t live like this.”
Grace slowly nods. “That’s similar to how I’ve felt all these years without William. Like I can’t hold on to anything. How did I get here, I ask myself. How is this my life?”
Diana takes in the view before them: the stark trees, the emptiness, the quiet. William’s absence defines this land and, to an extent, Grace. This scares Diana—the way Grace hasn’t moved on. This could be her life, too. “I wish . . . I wish for so much I can’t have.”
There’s a pause while Grace’s eyes sweep across the yard, landing first on a small thicket of evergreens and then on Scout rolling around on the ground. She again begins to walk, setting a faster pace than before, her boots crushing ice and snow with each step.
“Tom worked for us part-time during the school year and full-time during breaks and the summer,” Grace begins.
“My sister Irene and I ran an equine therapy camp here during the summers.
We offered programs for children and teens with all different kinds of disabilities; some faced physical challenges, a few had developmental delays.
Irene was a special needs teacher in Burlington, and the camp was her idea.
“William and I were skeptical at first. Money was scarce, and a lot needed to be done to get the camp up and running. Reinforcing the paddock, buying special saddles, increasing our insurance. I agreed because Irene was coming off a bad divorce and I thought the camp would be a helpful distraction. Plus, it was a good way to get the animals exercised, and it felt like we were giving back.”
“How did Tom come to work here?” Diana keeps up with Grace’s steady pace, though her hamstrings ache from yesterday’s hike with Chris.
“Jimmy McCarthy, the owner of the Hamilton General Store, recommended him. Tom applied for a job there, but Jimmy didn’t have any openings.
When William stopped by and mentioned we needed an extra set of hands to help around the farm, Jimmy pulled Tom’s application off a pile in his office.
William had taught Tom in history class and remembered him fondly, so he called him up. ”
Grace steers Diana away from a steep slope along the tree line.
“Jimmy died a few years ago. His kids run the store now. I stop there on Fridays for a turkey sandwich and their fudge. They make the best fudge. Secret family recipe, Jimmy said.” Grace’s words fade to a whisper.
Diana understands what she’s feeling: the joy of remembering, and the pain, too.
“What happened when William called Tom?”
“Tom rode his bike over a few days later to talk with us, and William hired him on the spot. He was at that age when he was growing into himself, all gangly limbs and awkwardness. His hair always needed cutting, if my memory is correct.”
In Grace’s description, Diana sees Duncan.
“Tom’s job was to help William. Together they managed the horses, mowed the lawn, insulated the attic, built fences, tended to the apple trees—whatever needed to be done. William would tell me they talked as they worked, about nothing and everything. Tom, as I recall, loved basketball.”
Some things don’t change, Diana thinks.
Grace stops in front of an iron bench under a large maple tree.
She sits, motioning to Diana to join her.
Diana shivers as her body makes contact with the cold metal.
The house is off to the left, a crest of trees is in the distance to the right, and the mountains are on the far horizon.
West, she realizes. The bench faces west to take in the sunset.
This spot must have been where Grace and William together ended each day, and she bites down the sadness that surges within her.
Grace continues, “William encouraged Tom’s plans after high school; he even wrote him recommendations for college.
William saw Tom as an adopted son of a sort.
We never had children, and while William said he was at peace with that, a part of him still dreamed for a son.
Tom’s father was gone. It’s almost as if they needed each other.
“Our niece, Jessica, was here that summer. She’s the daughter of William’s brother.
A handful, that one was. She’d been talking back to her parents and hanging out with the wrong sort of kids.
Her parents were worried she was getting into drugs, so they asked if she could come here for the summer.
They had four younger children at home in Portland and needed help.
William and I said yes, of course. We thought the farm would be good for her. ”
“Was it?” Diana realizes who Jessica is: She’s the first person Tom ever slept with, possibly his first love.
He never said much about her, certainly not her name, only that his first time had been the summer before college with a girl from Maine.
He dismissed Diana when she asked for specifics, back in the early days of their relationship.
This was years ago, he said. I barely remember her.
“At first, Jessica seemed happy. She listened to us, did as we asked. Then we discovered she was sneaking out of her room at night. To go where, we never knew,” Grace says.
“Did anything happen between Jessica and Tom? William thought yes; I wasn’t sure.
Tom was easygoing and never gave us any trouble. Jessica? She was angry at the world.”
Diana remembers the rage she felt over Tom’s letter. How easy it is to be angry, a much more attractive option than being sad.
“When I look back, I realize Jessica was clever, biding time with us until she could go back home. She never gave being here a chance. I suspect, if I’d been a sixteen-year-old girl sent off into exile, I wouldn’t have either.
At the time, I didn’t identify with Jessica’s anger.
It wasn’t until later, after I got out of the hospital and returned here, that I began to see how anger could be all-consuming,” Grace says, echoing Diana’s thoughts.
“And the fire?” Diana appreciates these details but anticipates there’s a limit to how long Grace will talk. Diana is afraid if she doesn’t ask directly, Grace will avoid the topic altogether.
Grace begins to walk again. Diana follows, her purse swinging with each step.
Grace pauses briefly by the birch trees to pick up bark lying in the snow.
As she begins recounting the night of the fire, she shreds the bark into silvery, gray curls that fall at their feet, making Diana think of the breadcrumbs Hansel and Gretel leave behind in the witch’s forest to find their way home.
“When the fire started, William and I were sleeping. It was hot, and we’d left our windows open to let the breeze circle through.
Something, maybe a noise, woke me up. The moment I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong.
There was too much light, and the air was filled with smoke.
At first, I thought I’d left food on the grill, but I remembered scraping it clean, removing the burned ends of the chicken we’d eaten for dinner.
I looked over William, through the open window, and I could see the barn was on fire.
” Grace shudders and her sure steps falter.
“I shook William awake, and he ran to the window. He stood there, clenching the sill for a second or two, before he raced from the room, yelling for me to call the fire department. I could hear his footsteps pounding down the stairs, and a crash followed, the sound of glass breaking. I fumbled for the phone on the bedside table and called for help.”
Terrified that William had gone ahead without her, Grace retains no memory of the phone call.
“Though I do have a very specific recollection of running after William and finding him in the yard. I stopped at his side and watched the flames consume the barn. It was clear the Hamilton volunteer fire department wouldn’t arrive in time to save the building.
I didn’t understand William had already formulated a plan.
An insane, risky plan. That night, though, it was the only option.
” Grace’s voice catches but she continues: “He said that he had to get the horses. Before I could say anything, he turned, pulled open the doors, and plunged inside.”
Smoke poured out into the night. The barn sizzled and burst as the beams and siding caught and then exploded. The fire threw off so much heat that, even at a distance, Grace’s skin tightened, as if she were at the end of a long day at the beach, a sunburn blistering across her chest.
Suddenly, above the flames, Grace heard a crash, and two horses ran out through the smoke, their gasps frantic and shallow.
They galloped across the yard, as far away from the barn as they could get.
“I watched them melt into the darkness. I knew I should follow them, to make sure they didn’t run back toward the blaze, but I couldn’t move.
That’s when William fell down next to me, coughing.
I crouched beside him and cleaned off soot from his face. I was so grateful he was alive.”
Grace stops, her hands continuing to strip the bark, her eyes looking back to the broken paddock fence.
“Four more horses remained in the barn. William was wheezing so hard it was difficult for him to speak. He managed to explain that he hadn’t been able to get to them.
” Grace shakes her head. “Those poor, poor animals. They were so good. They didn’t deserve to die like that.