I, Gracie - Sharon Sala Page 0,8

that, then finished putting away groceries.

Her next task was cleaning and laundry, so she headed straight to her mama's bedroom and began stripping the bed and putting everything in to wash. Then she did something she'd been wanting to do for years and began pulling down the old rotting curtains in Mama's room. She stuffed them in a garbage bag, then began emptying trash cans all over the house.

When the laundry cycle ended, she threw the sheets in the dryer and put her own bedding in to wash. Next came the floors. She got out the broom, then followed up with a dust mop. When she was through, grabbed a dust rag and the lemon oil, began wiping down the tables and the chairs, then all the woodwork.

She'd prided herself on keeping the old house clean, even as it began to fall down around them, but the dust storm last week, and then these last four days of Delia's sudden deterioration, had made cleaning the last thing that mattered.

It was late evening by the time she'd remade her bed, but the floors were spotless, all the surfaces dust-free. The rooms smelled of Pine-Sol and lemon oil. The old house was as presentable as it could possibly be, but Gracie looked like hell.

She had the box fan on in the kitchen, and the one going in her bedroom. It didn't cool anything, but it did stir the hot air. She was tired and hungry, but too dirty to eat. So once again, she showered, then put on her PJs, and went to the kitchen. She made herself a ham and cheese sandwich, poured a glass of milk, and carried them outside to the back porch to watch the sunset as she ate.

In the old days, Daddy would have been out here with a cold beer at his elbow, playing his guitar and singing songs at Mama's request.

Sometimes, James would join him, adding his harmonica to the music Tommy Dunham skillfully coaxed from the old guitar. Daphne and Mamie would dance—sometimes a two-step, sometimes a waltz, and sometimes a line dance, interpreting it with steps of their own when they forgot what came next.

Then Daddy had been killed in a car wreck, less than a mile from their house, and after that, the music had died.

She finished her sandwich and milk, and then sat in sweet silence as the sky turned vivid shades of red and orange, two of Mama's favorite colors, before fading into dusk, then full-on dark.

She was tired and needed sleep, but she didn't want to go into that house alone, and so she sat, waiting for the first coyote of the night to let out a little yip. When it did, it was the signal for the chorus that followed.

Gracie closed her eyes, letting their song of the prairie fill her. She felt battered and sore, like she'd been in a fight. Her spirit was down—really down, and listening to the coyotes took her back to the good times, when Daddy had still been alive, and Mama had known their names.

Finally, the coyotes moved on, and when they did, Gracie got up and walked out into the yard, grateful for the gentle breeze against her clean skin. She looked up at the night sky, then out across the dark prairie. She'd never felt so small, or so alone. She needed to be heard. She needed people to know she was still here, thinking God needed a reminder, too, that she was still alive—still dreaming.

And so she tilted her head back and thrust a fist into the air, shouting aloud into the night.

"I, Gracie, am not the Dunham who died. Life did not beat me. Mama couldn't kill me. The war is over, and I'm still standing."

Then she turned around, grabbed her dirty dishes, and went inside. The ritual of putting the house to sleep was as familiar as putting her mama to bed. She began going through each room, locking all the windows and doors.

She was so tired, she was numb. She hadn't slept more than an hour at a time in the past thirty-six hours and wasn't sure she could unwind enough now to relax.

She kept thinking Mama needed her, and then would remember Delia had no need of anything on this earth again. Gracie was sad, but she was not going to cry because Mama was gone. She'd prayed too many nights for God to come get her.

She accepted that the tears would come when the