hesitates. What is the number? She puts the phone on its hook and searches for the
paper with Grace's number on it. She knows the number. She memorized it yesterday,
when she finally called information to get it. It took a while for the operator to find it.
Grace moved since the last time Susan spoke to her. Not surprising, it's been seventeen
years.
Seventeen years -- a lifetime ago. Certainly, nothing is the same. Most definitely not
Susan. Seventeen years ago she was young and beautiful -- and in love. Hopelessly in
love. Now, two marriages and two children later, she's just taking it one day at a time.
Biting her lip, Susan perches on the end of the couch, her hand once again hovering over
the phone on the table in front of her. Ever since she heard that Grace's son, Matt, died
in a car accident, the same thoughts keep running through her mind. "Will Grace even
remember me? We were best friends for ten years. How could she forget? The real
question is -- would she rather forget. Will she even talk to me? Has enough time lapsed
to heal the wounds? Has Grace ever forgiven me?"
Looking back, Susan could see that it was all blown out of proportion at the time. After
all nothing really ever happened. But Grace never believed that. At least not that she ever
told Susan.
It took a few months, after that blowout scene between them at the restaurant, for
Susan to put the hurt behind her and move on. A year later, she got married and
regretted that Grace was not there to be her bridesmaid. Grace never knew she had a
namesake -- Susan's first daughter, little Gracie, who died at six months old, from SIDS.
"Thank God, for Cara. I thought the world ended when little Gracie died. Cara is my pride
and joy, my reason for living, but little Gracie is never far from my thoughts or my heart."
Now, Susan's heard that Grace has lost her son, too. Susan's sister told her three days
ago. She read about it in the local paper last week. "Oh Grace, I wish I were there for
you now. I want you to know that I know what you're going through. I want you to know
that you're not alone."
For the umpteenth time in three days, Susan remembers the pain of losing a child.
Drying her eyes, her hands trembling, she picks up the phone and dials the number. A
sad, yet familiar voice answers on the third ring, "Hello."
"Hello, Grace?"
© 2001 Bobbie Ann Pimm
Book 1 Book 2 Book 3 Book 4 Book 5