“I tell you what, I wish we didn't have to walk home.” Grace said. “My legs are very wobbly.” Art laughed loudly.
“That would be my fault, Miss. Grace, I'm terribly sorry about that.” Grace shook her head.
“Oh no, I wouldn't dream of making you apologize for that.” She said flashing him a contented smile. “I would dream of asking you to stop calling me Miss. Grace, however.”
“Oh? And what should I call you?” Art asked as they walked along the dusty path towards Grace’s father’s home.
“Just Grace is perfectly fine.” She said with a confused look on her face.
“Just Grace it is then.” Art said, making a mental note to replace the word ‘Miss’ with ‘just’ the next time he addressed her.
“Art?” Grace asked as they left the noise of the barn behind them and sunk in to the ambient noise of the chirping crickets.
“Yes?”
“Do you suppose it’ll be a very long time before you build your farmhouse?” Grace asked without looking at him. Art seemed to think on this for a little while.
“Well, I suppose I might could start it tomorrow if I found the right place.” He said. Grace couldn't imagine having enough money to make such a significant decision. Her daddy had worked twenty five years, saving every dime he made, before he could afford to build their house. Then, here was Art saying he could not only buy property tomorrow, but that he could also start building his own home then if he wanted to. Suddenly she began to feel a great divide between them. “Why do you ask?” Art asked her. Grace shook her head.
“I was just wondering.” She said innocently. She wasn't going to mention that she wanted to live in the big farmhouse with him. She definitely wasn't going to mention that she was ready to move in with him right away. After all, she couldn't seem desperate…but then again, she had given him the ultimate gift already, so what else could make her seem more desperate than that?
“Oh…” Art said quietly. “How far is your daddy's house from here?” He asked, looking up ahead in to the darkness.
“It's not far.” Grace said, giving in to the awkward conversation. “Just up over this hill. You’ll see the lights once we get over the hill, then it's not far at all.” After a few seconds of Art not saying anything she added: “Are you tired already?” Art laughed.
“No, just making conversation really…and wondering how far we had to go.” Grace could have cringed at just how stilted their conversation had become since she asked about the farmhouse. It was as if he knew what she had been hinting at and was trying desperately to avoid addressing it. She couldn't help but wonder now, if she had given away her virginity to a man with no intention of proposing to her at all.
“Oh…well, it's not far.” They took a few steps more. “Thank you for walking me home.” She said weakly. Her mind now racing with all kinds of regret and worry.
“I couldn't let a pretty lady like you walk home alone…besides, it's my pleasure.” Art said, a little warmth finally coming back in to their conversation. Grace squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers back. “Do you think your daddy will be sleeping?” He asked as they created the hill and a few flickering lights appeared in front of them and off to the left.
“He may be, but I don't think so. He usually stays awake until I get home.” Grace said.
“Does your sister live with you too?” Art asked, more as a matter of interest than anything else.
“No…well, no and yes.” Grace said without elaborating.
“Well that's slightly confusing…” Art said, raising a single eyebrow. Grace laughed quietly.
“Well, my sister has a home with her husband, but right now she stays at home with me and daddy a lot.” She said. Art nodded, finally able to make sense of the situation.
“Ahh, that's a shame.” He said sympathetically. Grace shrugged.
“It would be if Tom was the same man she married. Lately though, he spends most of his time drunk and doesn't come home at all, so it's kind of nice for Winnie to have somewhere to go.” She said.
“I think so too. I hope that my children always know that they can come home again.” He said. “They say you can never go home again, but I don't think that's true.” There he went talking about children again.
“I think you're right.” Grace said.
The two walked the rest of the way in silence. Grace engulfed by her image of Art and his twenty plus children running around the biggest farmhouse imaginable, and Art consumed by the fear of meeting Grace’s father.