Missing Grace(16)

"No, thank you. I had a snack before I left today." It was times like this that the closeness she felt to him started to evaporate, causing her to question what she was doing. "I really only have another hour . . . maybe we should . . ." She didn't finish, hoping he would pick up on the unsubtle hint.

He looked uneasy as his eyes glanced toward the desk. "I have everything on my computer."

Her heartbeat quickened when she saw the computer. "Okay."

Following him to the desk, he sat down and logged on. The sound of the buttons clicking drew her attention, and she was curious what password someone like Ben would choose-an animal, a made-up word, a name, a food. It could be anything, but she felt it would be something meaningful to him. I wonder what mattered to him? By the lack of stuff, it wasn't decorating. When she turned back to the desk, a silver frame next to the monitor caught her attention. Her gaze rolled over the five happy faces, but landed on one-her own.

She didn't mean to gasp, but when she did it startled him. He stood up and their eyes connected for a brief moment as he blocked the framed photo from her view. "I should have warned you. I'm sorry. I'm so used to it being there that I didn't think about it-"

"It's okay. Is it-is that . . ." She reached around as he sat back down and picked it up. "May I?"

"Of course." Anxiety rolled off him and right onto her. He said, "That's my family. You were very close to them."

He pointed out who was who, but stopped at the two of them. Her eyes shifted between herself and Ben, taking in every detail-his smile, his eyes, his happiness, her face, and her love for him. Love that was so obvious.

Without calculating a more careful response, she said, "I loved you. I can see how much I loved you in this picture." Not a question, but a statement of fact. She needed time to process this information.

From his silence, thankfully, he was willing to give her that time.

Jane set the frame back down in the spot where she found it. She didn't want to, not ready to part with it, but she noticed the photos he mentioned earlier were open on his computer. He stood back up and offered her the chair. She sat down quietly, her hand moving to cover the mouse. "Do you mind me clicking through?" It was foolish to ask since that's why they were here, but she did because everything, every breath she took, every movement she made around him was laden with an immense unknown. Who was she? Who was he? Who were they together? Internally, she was struggling to navigate the line between what he knows of their past and what she's holding on to in the present. But here they were, alone, with hundreds of pictures of a life she didn't recollect. 

"Take your time," he said, moving to sit on the couch.

He was giving her space, but she wasn't sure she needed it. She kind of liked him close.

She spent about ten minutes looking through the photos before she asked, "Do you have pictures of my family?"

"Yes." Getting up from the couch, he walked back to the desk and leaned over her. She felt his breath on her neck and briefly closed her eyes, wishing she could remember anything from before the accident. I loved this man.

His hand covered hers, which was resting on the mouse, then he clicked on a file. When the file was open, he double-clicked on the first picture.

Unprepared for the emotions that would strike, tears filled her eyes as she stared. Her parents. Her. A high school graduation she had no memory of. Ben walked away, but she continued to stare-eyes like her mother's, a mouth like her father's. She was the sum total of two people she didn't know, two people who lost a daughter three years earlier.

An ache filled her chest over the pain they must have felt when she disappeared, and the loss they still felt today. A box of tissues was set down and Ben handed her one to catch the tear working its way down her cheek. "What are their names?" she asked, her voice a reflection of her devastation for them.

"Pamela and John Stevens. They've been married thirty years next month?"

She turned around and the question flew from her mouth, "In June?"

"Yes."

"Which day?"

"The seventeenth. The seventeenth of June."

She stood and rushed for the door, her feet trying to escape something that just can't be. No. It can't be true.

"Grace?" Ben called to her, the name stopping her in her tracks. Trying to compose herself, she dabbed around her eyes so he wouldn't see her falling apart.

Ben stood behind her, his body so close to hers that guilt came back. She stepped closer to the door, taking hold of the knob. "I should go."

"I want you to stay."

"I can't."

"Are you all right?"