Winter Journeys

Chapter 8 Grace's World

(Author's Note: the title is a play on "Christina's World", the famousAndrew Wyeth painting of a girl in a wheat field. Basically this chapter is a portrait of Grace)

The next day was Monday, when the week was planned out. Over lunch, Grace volunteered to take care of the special wheat field during afternoons, and the family agreed to that.

Why would a twenty-first century city girl want to take over a cold, monotonous task? Grace herself wondered about that, and tried to examine her motivations. She didn't want people to talk about "crazy Grace" the way they talked about "crazy Joan". (They already talked about "weird Grace", but that was nothing new)

First of all was her loner personality. The few people that she really cared about were hundreds of miles away, and the principal one wasn't even on speaking terms with her. The less time that she spent with Bonnie, the better. The Cavalos were nice people, but for that very reason she had to hold her tongue with them, not bringing up certain subjects or uttering certain words with four letters. She didn't exactly agree with the irritable French philosopher who had declared that "Hell is other people", but she felt freer when she was alone.

Second was the matter of accomplishment. She liked to think that she accomplished something by speaking out on important issues, but the fact of the matter was that even her best friends, Adam and Joan, tended to tune her out rather than being inspired to change their lives. A year ago she had denounced dating as being so retro; they had nodded solemnly and then gone on a date. Here was something that she could DO. If the project worked, it could save lives in the Third World, and Grace could take pride in that. Of course some scientists had fiddled with the genes, and the Cavalos had donated the land, but it was Grace who had done the physical work.

Then there was the Secret Garden mystique. Emulating Mary-Quite-Contrary meant that Grace could think back to her childhood. Most people got nostalgic about their childhood innocence; Grace was more so, because her rite-of-passage had been learning that her mother was an alcoholic and her father in denial, at the least.

And in the mystical sense, she could regard this square of land as her own little world. A world that didn't contain dorks that had fun with your body in bed and then made excuses not to see you afterward.

Grace was enjoying her privacy so much that she was annoyed when she heard the clip-clop of horses' hooves. Her own was grazing in a neighboring field, one which would not be heavily planted until spring. Looking in the direction of the sound, she saw Bonnie and Brian Cavalo in a wagon, pulled by a powerful draft horse.

"Hi," said Brian, hopping down from the wagon. "I told my parents I'd help gather up the discarded wheat and take it back to the farmhouse."

"All right. I've left it in a few piles in the path." She started on a pile several dozen yards away from the wagon. As she expected, Brian followed suit. Grace lowered her voice. "So Bonnie isn't working?"

"Mom said she shouldn't and bend and lift things in her condition."

"Yeah, I figured that. So she's just going to sit on her ass and watch?"

Brian looked surprised. Maybe he wasn't used to girls using coarse language about other girls; she wondered what sort of high school he attended. "She's been helping Mom with chores all day. Look, Grace, if you're tired, why don't you sit in the wagon and let me finish with this? You've obviously been working hard all day."

Brian had misunderstood the reason for Grace's bad mood -- Grace was ALWAYS in a bad mood -- but she agreed and walked back to the wagon reluctantly.

"I think Brian's hot for you," whispered Bonnie.

"Too bad."

"Why too bad? I mean, I wouldn't want a guy stalking me, but Brian isn't that type. what's wrong with being admired?"

"It bothers me when I can't reciprocate."

Bonnie looked puzzled, and at first Grace thought "reciprocate" wasn't in her vocabulary. Then Bonnie asked, "Are you gay?"

"What?"

"I've heard rumors at school."

Two years ago Grace had enjoyed encouraging those rumors. But then she had fallen for Luke and the whole game seemed silly. "No, there's this guy. He--"

She was trying to decide how much to reveal when Brian announced, "I've loaded the wagon now. If you'll collect your horse, Grace, we can head home."

Grace approached her horse, who backed up a few steps and then turned tail and ran. She heard Bonnie laugh from the wagon. "Don't think your horse likes you, Grace."

Yeah, like most members of the animal kingdom, including humans, thought Grace, turning red. She hated being humiliated in front of Bonnie.

"It's used to me, I'll fetch it," said Brian. He went after the horse, did some sort of "horse whisperer" trick, and led it back to Grace. She thanked him, pulled herself up into the saddle, and urged it into a gallop toward the farmhouse, leaving Bonnie and Brian behind. It proved that she was a competent horsewoman after all, and gave her a couple of more minutes of privacy.

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That evening, Jean Cavalo took Bonnie aside for a long talk, and Grace had the room for herself for a time. She booted up her computer and noticed that she had an Email from Adam.

Grace:

Jane told me the most wonderful secret Saturday, about why she works on so many projects. She says that you're in it, too. Is that true?

He did not describe the secret itself; Joan and her friends had learnt long ago not to talk about it explicitly online. Suppose Bonnie got nosy and read their Email? Grace clicked REPLY and typed an indirect message of her own.

So which of Joan's friends did you meet? The cute boy? The old lady? The little girl? Someone else?

Suitably cryptic to an outside observer, but any of Joan's confidantes would know what she meant.

Bonnie walked in, and Grace hastily shut down the Email program. Bonnie didn't seem to notice. She looked like she was about to cry. "What's wrong?" inquired Grace nastily.

"I've been talking to Mrs. Cavalo. She said that she had a difficult time when she was pregnant, and when Brian was born they advised her not to try again. That's why she was anxious to take me under her wing; she wanted to tell me the danger signs. Fortunately I seem to be OK."

"I see."

"Poor lady. She said that she and her husband wanted a lot of kids originally. They didn't get their wish. Meanwhile my Mom hated kids so much that she gave me a choice: get an abortion or get out. She was convinced that once I had the baby, I'd dump it on her. I got out."

"You wanted your baby that much?" This part of the story was new to Grace.

"Nah. I'm going to give it up after it comes out. I just thought it deserved a chance at life."

So she gave up her home to save a baby she didn't even want. Took a moral stand and suffered as a result -- something Grace had never had to do, for all her dreams of fighting authority. Grace was impressed.

God had not spoken to her since the breakup with the Girardis. Maybe Joan was always supposed to be the link to God, and Grace had broken the circuit. But here, even without a mysterious stranger, was a situation that cried out for intervention.

Grace sighed. It sucked having to answer to God. It meant she couldn't ignore the situation like she wanted. So much for being alone.

TBC

(Author's Note: I will be going on vacation in a few days and be out of touch with the Internet for a while, so there will be some time before my next update. But the whole story is in my head, and I will not abandon it. Once again, thanks to LostSchizophrenic for beta-ing.)