The rain had been steadily pouring for the last three days and the gloom on the horizon matched what Thomas felt inside — bleak and dreary. He bowed his head and dropped to his knees, paying no mind to the wet grass beneath him as he brushed away the stray leaves and other debris that accumulated from around the headstone. Swallowing his nerves, he took a deep breath, placing the flowers at the base of the grave to honor the life of the woman who took him in as her own all those years ago.
"These are for you," his voice was a mere whisper. "I wasn't sure what kind of flowers you liked, so I hope these are okay. They reminded me of autumn, which I know was your favorite season, and by the looks of it, I'd say we're going to have an early one this year."
Grace's funeral in early June had been a quiet affair. There was no ceremonial gathering, no tearful eulogies, not even a funeral home. Only Grace's pastor and Thomas were present under the shade of the big oak tree overlooking the spring-fed pond in the western pasture of the ranch. The pastor shared a few words about the meaning of life and the loss of loved ones, then a man came out from behind the shadows, pushing a discreet button that descended the coffin slowly into the ground. It was simple, just as Grace had wanted — laid to rest between her husband, George, and her beloved grandmother, Louise.
Thomas's eyes were red and stinging from the withheld tears. The day after confiding to Louise about his wife's death, he had made the forty-five-minute drive to Manassas to visit the final resting place of his wife Jill and their unborn son. There, he laid bare his soul, begging for her forgiveness, hoping to regain some semblance of peace he needed to finally move on.
Plans and routines had seemed to keep Thomas's mind from wandering to painful places, causing him to spend the past eight years immersed deep within his work. As the world turned around him, Thomas pretended to revolve with everyone else, keeping his pain concealed on the inside — his existence a mere façade. He had long accepted that his heartache would be his punishment for letting Jill leave that stormy night, but he realized the turmoil and agony he kept bottled within himself had been silently killing him from the inside out. Raw from exposure, Thomas felt it was finally time to begin healing his heart, and to regain control of his life, he needed the forgiveness of the one woman he had probably hurt the most. Grace.
"I guess it's been a while, huh?" Thomas spoke as if forgetting what it was like to start a conversation. "Sorry about that. I've moved into your house, but I imagine you already knew that, didn't you?" The words sounded foreign to his ears. He inhaled, blowing his breath out slowly, reminiscing about the things that were so long forgotten they didn't even matter anymore.
"You remember that party I went to the summer after I graduated from high school — the one in that big empty barn behind Steve Bergeron's house?" He paused, looking up at Grace's headstone, and waited for a response. He continued when he didn't receive one. "I had missed my curfew by a mile and a half, but I wasn't the one driving that night and I was too embarrassed to ask anyone for a ride home." A puff of air escaped his nose, "Hell, I think I was the only man over the age of seventeen in the Commonwealth of Virginia that night that had to be home by midnight!" he recalled, continuing.
"It was a beautiful summer night, all the stars were all out. I imagine it must have been about one-thirty or two in the morning. Tailgates were down, music blaring from every truck — a huge bonfire." He looked off into the distance, recalling the scene as it played out before him. "I had finally worked up the nerve to talk to the girl I had a crush on all four years of high school when here it comes, the unmistakable sound of your rickety old pickup truck rumbling down the dirt driveway."
Tears of laughter pricked his eyes, "You stopped the truck before it got to the barn, but then decided to pull up right up next to where I was sitting," Thomas cringed at the memory. "I swear, Grace, I've never seen you move as fast as you did when you hopped out of the truck and got right in my face. I just remember being so happy that you didn't show up in that doggone fringed jacket you always liked to wear — although the nightgown, hair curlers, and the shotgun were a spectacle all on its own."
Thomas smiled, "I knew right then and there that if I didn't die from your wrath that night, it surely would have come from the embarrassment." He looked down at his hands to pick at the skin around his thumbnail, then raised his brow, "I'm here to tell ya, if you've never been the one whose grandmother comes over to shut down your friend's party, it's a feeling like no other!"
Thomas glanced up at the various stages of weathered headstones of the surrounding graves, and suddenly, his stomach was taut with nerves as if he were now speaking in front of an audience. "It always seemed you were oblivious to my humiliation — the quirky old bitty who went around talking craziness about the past, seeing things almost like apparitions, creating stories that no one ever believed. Whether you knew it or not, I didn't exactly climb the ladder of popularity by growing up in Grace Donovan's house. Anyone I ever brought around thought you were nuttier than a fruit cake." Remorse set in after the words rolled off his tongue, but he knew he had to tell her how he felt.
"I always found myself in the position of defending you when people would say things behind your back. Hell, even I knew you never cared much about what other people thought, but it still hurt, ya know?"
Thomas remained deep in thought as he kneeled to brush another stray leaf off the headstone, his fingers mindlessly tracing the flowing mane of the etched horse that was carved into the marble. A sudden flutter caught his attention and Thomas glanced over at Louise's grave just in time to see a small sparrow land on the headstone, its melodious song giving him the reassurance he needed to continue.
"I never told you this, but the night Jill died…," he trailed off, biting his lower lip in an attempt to ward off any tears that threatened to fall. "Jill had said some pretty hurtful things about you, even went as far as to say she didn't want our son growing up under your influence. Hell, I knew it was out of spite, but I let those words get under my skin, and once again, I found myself in the same old position of defending you. She drove off, and...well." He paused, swallowing his sadness. "I guess in my mind, I partly held you responsible for their death. Deep down I knew it was wrong, but at the time it was easier to blame you than it was myself. I never told you how sorry I was for the way I treated you…"
Thomas's eyes looked up to the sky as his tears fell, "I always pictured Jill and I growing old together, you know? Living a long, happy life — one of us dying with the other one by our side, holding each other's hands in the end, just like you and George did. I never thought I'd lose everything I had all at once…"
Guilt washed over Thomas much like the summer rain that was now beating down on his shoulders. He pulled his collar up over his neck, crossing his jacket tightly across his chest in an attempt to keep the chill from penetrating his bones. "I'm sorry, Grace," he whispered. "I only wish it were possible to go back in time, and maybe then…well, maybe then I'd have listened more intently to all your stories, ask you the questions I thought never mattered. Questions about your life, the house…Louise."
As Thomas spoke the young rider's name, he looked over at Louise's grave just in time to see the sparrow fly away. A wide smile spread across his face as he watched the bird take perch on a branch above him. "She's an easy one to love, isn't she, Grace?" He laughed, "Who would have ever thought those cockamamie stories you told about her, The Kid, and the Pony Express would have all been true."
Thomas sighed heavily, shaking his head, "For the life of me, Grace, I still can't figure out why you gave me the house and the ranch. I can easily think of a dozen…," he paused for a beat, "...no, I can think of at least two dozen people who would have been better suited for this than me. But I guess if I've ever learned anything from you over the years, it would be that everything with you has meaning."
Thomas glared at Grace's gravestone and raised an eyebrow, "So tell me then, why do I have the sneaking suspicion that Louise McCloud and that desk of hers is only the tip of this iceberg?"
Thomas's chest began to tighten and sadness welled in his heart once again as he glanced back over at Louise's grave. He cleared his throat, lowering his voice to a whisper when he turned back to Grace's headstone as if to ask for advice, "I was going through some of Louise's belongings the other day when I was cleaning and found this inside some old box in her trunk…" He reached inside his jacket, pulling out the yellowed envelope that was tucked deep inside the pocket. "I don't know why, but I always assumed from all your stories that Louise and her husband, Kid, lived happily ever after." He peeked inside the envelope, careful not to disturb the tiny shreds of torn paper inside, "But it's apparent by the remnants of this letter here…well, Kid didn't make it out of the Civil War alive."
Thomas stood in quiet contemplation for several moments, mulling over the question that kept burning in his mind. "What am I supposed to do with this information, Grace?!" He lowered his voice, the words strained between his gritted teeth. "It's not like I can straight up tell Louise that her husband is going to die in the war! She's pregnant! I couldn't do that to her! And besides, I've already tried looking up the name 'Kid McCloud' in several different Civil War databases. I even went to the National Archives in D.C. thinking I'd be able to find out when, where, and how he died." He continued, "I know documentation back then wasn't like it is today, but finding out what happened to this guy has been like searching for a needle in a haystack. As far as I know, The Kid could've died out in the field as a 'John Doe'. I thought coming out here to see his grave today would've given me some clues, but it's so aged and weather-worn, I can't read even read the dates chiseled on his headstone."
Thomas ran a nervous hand through his damp hair, "Hell, even if I knew all the details of how he died, there is no way I can save him without involving Louise's help. What am I supposed to do, send her out onto the battlefield to take a bullet for him?" He let out a frustrated sigh and gave Grace's grave a pointed stare, "You and I both know damn well that she'd be stubborn enough to do it, too!"
He tucked the envelope back into his jacket pocket when he felt the rain touch his skin, "Listen, Grace. I've grown very fond of Louise over the last couple of months, and it pains me more than you know that she'll be traveling down the same road of heartache with The Kid that I did with my Jill." Thomas stood back as if to give Grace space, his hand rubbing the stubble on his face. "I have to think of all the implications. There is just too much at stake with her future if she knew what was going to happen with Kid." A sigh ached to escape his lips, but he bit it back. "Besides...I know there will be no saving her from herself when she finds out he's not coming home. Believe me, it's for the best. I'm sorry," he whispered.
Thomas bowed his head and clasped his hands as he tried to change the subject. "Look, I'm going to be gone for a while. The house is going to start renovation next week and I thought I'd take the time to fly out to California for that seminar I missed back in June. Don't worry, the house will be done right. I'm only restoring it to what it was like in its glory days, just like you wanted. After that…," he exhaled. "I think I should try and find a buyer for the ranch. I can't live here and still have my practice back in Manassas, and besides, the ranch deserves to have someone who appreciates the history of the place. Someone who can take care of the property the way it needs to be taken care of."
He cleared his throat, bending over to caress the top of the stone with his fingers one last time, "You know how I am with goodbyes…so I'll just, well,…I'll just see you later, okay? I love you, Grace."
Giving Grace's headstone a final tap, Thomas straightened and walked the few steps over to Louise's grave. Her tombstone was simple but stood out among the others.
'Louise McCloud 1842-1934. Beloved wife, mother, and grandmother.' The corner of Thomas's mouth crept up into a modest smile as he took note of the long life she lived but remained thoughtful as he pondered the epitaph at the bottom, 'Grief is the last act of love we have to give to those we have loved. Where there is deep grief, there was great love.'
"You know, it's a mighty strange feeling standing here in front of your grave knowing that in a few hours I'll be passing notes back and forth with you like a school-aged kid again." He shook his head, knowing he'll never completely come to terms with or understand the phenomenon they'd experienced.
Thomas bent over to pull a couple of dandelions from the base of her grave. Clearing his throat, he gathered his nerves and found his voice. "Louise, I came here today to say, 'thank you'. I know we go at it more like a brother and sister than a great-grandmother and great-grandson sometimes, but the truth is, I wanted to let you know that it has been my absolute pleasure getting to know you the past few months. You're every bit as lovely as Grace had described and it is no wonder that she loved you so much. Even though Kid won't live to see it, you both managed to build a wonderful legacy," Thomas said, brushing his fingers along the engraved letters of her name.
"We men from Virginia seem to have trouble saying exactly what's on our mind, so I hope you'll bear with me long enough for me to say what I have to say." He fiddled with his hands, trying to pass off his nervous smile.
"Boy, life sure hasn't been easy for either one of us, has it?" he asked. "I guess that's one of the reasons why I find you so easy to talk to. We each have sort of a mutual and quiet understanding of the other." Thomas's voice broke, and his finger swept under his eye. Sighing ahead of his admission, "I think the best part of me died the day I lost my wife and son — I became this person I hardly recognized anymore. From then on out, I buried myself deep in my work, shut out the people who were most important in my life…," Thomas swallowed hard. "... and somewhere in the process, I managed to forget what it was like to love and be loved. It's taken me a while, but I finally realized I've been going through all the motions of life without really living it."
A genuine smile dimpled Thomas's cheeks. "I guess this is the part where you come in. It's not easy being so vulnerable, but the truth is, I've learned a lot from you these past few months — things about people — about myself. I guess you can say you've become the friend I never knew I needed. It's important to me that you know that."
He paused for a beat and suddenly found himself tiptoeing around his words. "Louise, I can't even pretend that I fathom all the hardships you're going through right now, with the war and all. I wish I could tell you that everything will turn out okay in the end, but I refuse to lie to you like that." Thomas said honestly. "I do know that you are one strong woman with an awfully big heart, and for the past few months now, I've watched as you made my heart whole again."
He continued, "I know losing Kid will be the hardest thing you'll ever have to do in life, but I want you to know that he'll always be with you. He'll be there every day when you smile, and he'll be there every time you ride free in the back pasture of the ranch. But most of all, he'll be the light you see in your newborn child's eyes. I can't promise you it will be easy, but I will promise you that one day down the road you'll wake up and you'll put one foot in front of the other just like any other day — only this time you'll let someone else make your heart whole again. Just like you did mine."
Thomas brought his fingers to his lips and then placed them on top of Louise's headstone as he finished saying his peace. He turned slowly and walked the few steps to Kid's weather-worn grave. Time hadn't been kind to the old stone, its brittle condition allowed him only to see the inscription, 'Kid McCloud'.
"Mr. McCloud," he paused, nodding his head in simple greeting. "I've heard so many admirable things about you and would have given anything in this world to have shaken your hand back in the day. I certainly don't mean any disrespect, sir, but I sure hope fighting in the war was worth the price that was paid." He sighed, "Louise is a damn fine woman, and you both would have had one hell of a life together. She loved you so much…" He glanced over at Louise's grave then looked back down at Kid's. "...but I know how much you loved her, too." He turned and started to walk away, but after a few steps, he stopped to look back over his shoulder at the graves.
"Rest in peace. All of you."
A/N: Thank you to all the faithful readers for your patience. This story continues to live in my mind and I am eager to press on with the writing.