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*19* Nuptials
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2024-10-29 19:42:56*Rob*
Grace is still asleep when I wake. Though I’m immediately burdened with a fierce morning arousal catching the lingering scent of her shampoo in her hair and feeling her round firm bottom pressed into my hips, I lie still.
It took some doing, lots of hard work with lots of help from my friends, their girlfriends, my parents and a generous smattering of folks from the community.
Margie Gregor tapped a few friendly resources and secured us a cake that she paid for as a wedding gift. She also knew an amazing seamstress, who in four weeks, cranked out three bridesmaid dresses, faux-50s style with the full skirts, simple but elegant necklines, and short belted jackets that were what Grace’s grandmother’s bridesmaids wore, plus all the suits for the groom’s party, perfectly matched to those her grandfather and his brothers wore on their wedding, sixty years ago.
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*Jack Mueller***Warning: sociopathic and narcissistic mentality**Might not think it, but there’s a lot of baggage people carry around. Even in a small town. Even one small as this one. Sure, I got my own too, but I make a point to settle myself and stay out of the politicking.Except in the case of Juliet Hammond. That was one I never could quite get past.Mostly because she never would let me.Everyone in these parts talks about Juliet like she was some sort of saint. And on the surface, she might have been, but the woman had a black and vindictive heart hidden inside that beautiful package. One she disguised expertly. One she used to turn things back on you quicker and more agile than a jackrabbit in whatever way that benefited her best— I have to give her credit for that.But I digress, and as I make my way on foot to the Hammond farm—well, I suppose now Grace’s married that Asian man, it’s not the Hammond farm anymore, real shame that that is—I try to forget that Juliet was the p
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*Juliet*“Come on, little one,” I coo, gently scooping my still napping daughter into my arms. Julia gives an irritable moan, then begins a tired hiccupping cry. Patting her on the back and rocking, I tuck her against my shoulder and soothe, “Ooh, I’m so sorry. I know, you’re not ready to get up yet. It’s oka—.”“Juliet!” Sam calls from downstairs. “We need to leave now or we’ll be late!”Rolling my eyes, I heave a sigh. “For pity’s sake, Sam, it’s just a game. You’ll be there early to warm up anyway.”“Juliet, I swear, if I have to come up ther—.”Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, I drape a light blanket over Julia as she sucks her thumb, then give him a pointed glare, staring down my nose
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*Sam*Carrying Julia’s baby bag on one arm and the puppy tucked under the other, Juliet unlocks the mudroom door when we get home, calling over her shoulder as Julia darts down the veranda towards the porch swing. “Julia, come inside now.”“Swing!” Julia shouts back, as if in explanation.Removing the keys from the knob, Juliet calls again, “No, not right now. Come inside.” As she opens the door, the most delicious savory smell drifts out, assaulting both our senses, and breathing deep, we take it in gladly. My stomach seconds our assessment with a loud rumbling growl.Along the veranda, Julia’s stopped, but her little face is screwed up in angry rebellion and she actually stomps her foot, balling her little fists when Juliet tells her ‘no’. It’s all I can do not to laugh. Knowing how
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The Work of Grace *45* Fine Points of Grace
*Rob*It's agonizing for me, but Margie decides to wait until after Dan and Ella return from their honeymoon before dropping by the farmhouse one blustery January day.As seems to always be her way, she arrives with a labeled storage box of the township's newspaper history that Dan carries for her while I help the aged woman up the veranda stairs to the door."Oh, well now," she says pleasantly, taking a seat on the sofa near Grace. "No wonder you're keeping to yourself and looking so content here. Rob's got you a nice fire built and the house toasty warm. Good for him."Grace flashes that gorgeous smile of hers, all the more beautiful because she carrying my children, tugging her lap blanket up over her rounded belly, and I frown. "Do you need another blanket, Grace? Are you warm enough?"Rolling her big ocean blue eyes, she
The Work of Grace *44* After-effects **trigger warning- multiple intense themes**
*Sam*The Nazis were responsible for many—innumerable—war crimes, many of which it was, unfortunately, my job to observe and secretly report to the Allies, before finally receiving orders to sabotage. Some of that was because available communications were not what they are now, but in part, it was because there was so—much.That I didn’t learn of research experiments, couldn’t stop them long before I was clearly commanded to, dogs my every day and will until the last one God gives me, and I’ve spent a great many of them trying to drown those memories in booze, exercise and work, prayer and loving care for Juliet and Julia, trying to attone for it.Having Juliet as an unwavering conscience is of small solace as I prepare the cold cellar around Junior—move visual distractions outside the close circle of light he’ll have over him,
The Work of Grace *43* Interlopers
*Juliet*With a contented sigh, I collapse against Sam’s chest, sweating despite the cold, heaving oxygen into my lungs.“I love you.” Sam’s panting whisper sounds as sapped as I feel, but pleasantly so, and his arms slide from where he held my thighs, over my back to cradle me against him. “I love you.”“I love you, Sam.”Time drifts in an exhausted haze, warm welcoming sleep wrapping its cloak of peace around us both, bidding us rest. Still kneeling on top of him, I relax heavily, his arms relaxing heavily over me in return. Every part of me still tingles faintly, absolutely satiated with the love we’ve made.Downstairs, the mantle clock chimes faintly, once—the half hour—though I have no idea which half hour that is and care even less.
The Work of Grace *42* Unknown
*Junior*I had no idea where I was going when I ran off after the trainman yelled at me. And frankly, I’m not all that certain I knew where I was anymore. I don’t remember even seeing Father Brennan’s house. Or the church. And I didn’t run through the cemetery or see the train tracks or the shops along Main Street. My head wasn’t particularly clear.
The Work of Grace *41* White-out
*Juliet*A gust of wind picks up my braid and sets my skirts clinging to my legs as Sam and I follow Julia and Ajax to the truck across the front lawn’s yellowed grass. Overhead, it drags at the last few dried leaves clinging to the bare maple branches, rustling them ominously. “Wind’s picked up,” I mention mildly.“And shifted direction,” Sam adds. “Julia, you’re too little for that. Wait for Mommy or me to open the door.” He jogs ahead and scooping our wayward daughter up around her middle with one arm, tucks her into a giggling squirming football carry, swinging her just a little wildly out of the way just so he can get a thrilled squeal out of her as he opens the driver's side door.Righting her on her small feet, he gives her a light smack on the bottom. “Now, you can get in. Ajax.” With a graceful bound,
The Work of Grace *40* Distractions
*Juliet*Yawning quietly, I snuggle under the covers against Sam’s broad warm back a few minutes longer, watching with disappointment as the creeping sunrise brightens our bedroom. The mere fact that he’s still asleep after dawn and after me, tells me more than I know he wants about how he felt going to bed last night. It was sign enough he blocked the stairs to keep Ajax upstairs with us, but when he went back down for his second pistol he usually keeps downstairs, it was a sure tell he was considerably worried. We'll both be chasing a nap later this afternoon.Catching the rancid musky odor was enough to relax me. I’m confident at this point it was some sort of stray animal that made its way along the house while we were at Stew and Alice’s to watch the Christmas specials, and I feel bad that Sam didn’t rest well over something as common out here as that.
The Work of Grace *39* Impending
*Juliet*Though it had come early with the whiteout squall Sam and I’d had on the Isle Royale, the winter started out like any other. Children and adults alike brought their snow gear out of the cedar chests and armoirs and prepared to salt the streets and sidewalks.Driving was a bit more treacherous, but we’re used to this inconvenience, and with Julia still at home another year before kindergarten, Sam and I had only rare occasion to leave home anyway, weekly for mass and once a month for groceries and pantry staples. And it wouldn’t be the winter season without a few cold-weather aggravations as far as we were concerned.True to his word, with nothing else to do on the farm, Sam tore our bathroom apart and built a fine vanity with double sinks and a GE Textolite countertop. He made a special trip to the city and brought home and installed shining
The Work of Grace *38* Dispossession
*Junior*Everybody in the township knows the original church, Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows, was build on the hill beyond the cemetery from where the historical building stands now. It was an actual log cabin structure—which, in the 1840s in a logging community, nobody’s surprised—and it burned a year after it was constructed. Naturally, since people don’t learn, another was erected on the same spot. That one made it ten years before it burned to the ground, but by that time, the township was firmly established and a wood frame structure was built where the current church stands.On the high ground location of the original site, a rectory and a barn was erected, and a parish priest was permanently assigned to the township by the Catholic diocese because by that time, this township was the largest of the four that intersect here. When the wood frame structure burned another de
The Work of Grace *37* Three Steps Back
*Sam*It’s frigid in the bathroom when I wake later, even with the steamer’s heating blowing with a soft whooshing through the vents. Beneath me, Juliet’s still fast asleep, mostly sheltered from the worst of the chill by my body and the thick pile of towels underneath us. I watch her for a peaceful moment, the relaxed line of her lush full mouth, the rise and fall of her chest, the gorgeous tumble of raven hair about her head.A single bright sterling strand peeks from among the silken darkness surrounding it—it’s the first gray hair I’ve seen on her head. Given our ages, it’s not a surprise in any capacity beyond I wonder what took it so long. I’ve been going gray since my late twenties.I blame Julia, even though she’s only four.With my entire body, not just the part directly impacted, I objec
