Missing Grace(8)

His natural reflex took over, and he cradled her face as his thumb smoothed over her cheek. Astonishingly, she relaxed under his touch. It only took a split second for it to register that he was once again touching Grace. Jane. Fuck! Whatever!

Maybe he shouldn't be, but he didn't care if it was wrong. She was his Grace and it felt right. She felt right. Instead of turning away, like he thought she would, she surprised him and leaned further into his touch. It was as if she couldn't see him with her eyes, but her body knew to respond to him. To . . . accept him.

"I can't do this here," she whispered before she closed her eyes and her expression faltered, creasing her fine features. "It would hurt Hunter." Her eyes bolted open and she looked at him, and started to back away. Just far enough to keep distance between them, she said, "I need to get back . . . get back to Hunter. He'll be looking for me."

It was too soon. He couldn't bear her moving away from him. The words flew from his mouth without thought to what he was saying. "Meet me at the fountain in Grant Park, tomorrow at noon." Could she hear the urgency in his voice? It didn't matter because that's how he felt. Urgent. He needed to see her and refused to walk away without setting up a meeting. He needed to show her photos of them together, so she would know in her heart and mind that she was his.

"Okay." She was walking away, but relief washed over him because she had agreed. Looking back over her shoulder, she added, "I'll see you then, Ben."

Ben.

He'd been introduced as Benjamin, but she knew. He hadn't heard his name said sweeter since the night before she left. As soon as she rounded the corner, out of sight, he closed his eyes and collapsed against the wall behind him feeling lighter than he'd felt in years. Finally. Finally. 

He had found his Grace.





4





Ben Edwards





Ben's leg seemed to have a mind of its own, as it bounced up and down at rapid speed. He looked at his watch for the twentieth time in the last minute as doubts consumed him. Was she going to show or would she back out? She said she couldn't do "this" at the party. What did "this" mean anyway? Talk? She couldn't talk to me at the party? He was driving himself insane with worry.

"Hello, Ben," an angel's voice called.

He stood abruptly when he saw Grace standing in front of him, like sunshine in a yellow dress. Tightening her blue sweater over her arms, she appeared unsure of herself under his stare. But he couldn't help it. It had been three long years since he'd looked at her face to face. He still questioned whether she was even real. Six inches separated their mouths in height, but more than three feet separated them in distance. She shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other then glanced nervously over her shoulder.

"Grace."

"It's Jane."

Although he was hurt by the correction, he saw she didn't mean to snap at him. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be," she said softly. "There seems to be some confusion. That's why I'm here."

"Would you like to take a walk?" he asked, hoping that would help put them both at ease.

"Sure."

Kids were splashing nearby, people taking pictures, and strolling around the fountain, but that didn't stop Ben from feeling like it was only them in that moment. Grace stole a glimpse of him that he caught before they headed away from the fountain.

Ben stayed close to her side as she confessed, "Hunter didn't want me talking to you."

"Does he know you're meeting me today?"

"No. He just called you a loon at the dinner and told me to steer clear from you." He saw lightness in her expression as she smiled to herself, but the doctor's comment still pissed him off.

"But you came anyway?"

"I had to. Knowing what I know, I had to." She scanned the park as she said, "I was in an accident just over three years ago."

Ben stopped. He stopped walking, and he stopped breathing. The question stumbled out without permission, his thoughts exposed to her, "An accident?"

"I was hit by a cab while crossing the street. The driver was apparently texting at the time. According to witnesses, the crosswalk sign lit up, signaling me to walk. I was juggling a coffee, my purse, and a roller bag, and the wheels weren't cooperating. It was bad timing between two people not paying attention to the world around them."

Feeling at ease, like time had been rewound, he spoke to her like they had never been apart. "You were in an accident . . ." he said as if trying to comprehend the revelation. She didn't leave me.

"Yes," she replied, walking again with her hands tucked into the pockets of her dress. When he joined her side, she turned her gaze to the ground in front of her. "I have amnesia, Ben. I don't remember anything before the accident."