Stages of Grace - By Carey Heywood Page 0,31

walking barefoot to his house. Kate laughs as my eyes are glued to his back as he walks away. He looks back right before walking out of view, and I quickly look away, wondering if he saw me watching him. Kate stands up, saying she is going to turn in. I follow her back into the house. As I walk back to my room, I think of all of the questions I have for my grandmother. Maybe tomorrow, after a good night of sleep, I will have an opportunity to find out what happened between her and my mom.

~*~

The next morning, I awake to the smell of coffee. I push myself up onto my elbows and deeply inhale. God, that smells amazing, good enough to start drinking coffee again. I take a moment to decide what to do. On one hand, I could go get some coffee, and I do really want some but, on the other hand, this may be the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in, and it feels like a disservice to leave it. I snuggle back under the covers only to give up, not being able to ignore nature’s call. I head straight to the bathroom. Checking myself out in the mirror, I pull my hair back into a messy bun at my nape. I had slept in an old pair of scrub pants and a concert tee. Off in search of coffee, I pad barefoot to the kitchen.

Kate is at the counter cutting a grapefruit in half. Raising one half, she asks if I want any.

"Sure." I peer at the coffeemaker. It looks fancy, and I can’t tell if it is done yet. "Coffee ready?"

"It is," Kate says, pulling a cup down from a cabinet and handing it to me.

I pour myself a cup and hold it right under my nose to smell. Nothing like the smell of fresh coffee. Sometimes I wonder what I prefer: the smell or the taste. After adding a dollop of milk, I take a small sip, trying not to burn my tongue. Kate has a tray of muffins and fruit that I take from her, making her tsk at me. I shrug and follow her out to the pool. Setting the tray on the table, I hurry back inside to retrieve my coffee. I don’t want it to feel abandoned. Kate laughs at my near embrace of my mug. I had gotten out of the habit of drinking coffee in the morning, but I'm looking forward to picking it back up. As we eat, I push my fears aside and ask Kate point blank what had happened between her and my mother.

Kate pushes her plate away and steeples her hands on the table in front of her. I pause to watch her, noticing her hands tremble.

"That, my dear, is a long story."

"I've got a week" I try to joke.

"That you do." She brings one of her hands up to finger the wisps of fine hairs along her scalp. "I just wonder if you'll want to leave early once I tell you." her eyes seem wet and her voice hushed.

I reach out to touch her arm, suddenly feeling guilty for asking. "I'm sorry. I just can't help but wonder why I didn’t know about you."

"It's alright dear. Don’t apologize." Kate pushes her chair back and stands.

"You haven’t finished eating. Please come sit back down."

"Oh, I'm not going far," Kate murmurs as she sits on a wicker-style loveseat a few feet from the table. "I just like to be busy when I talk." She pulls a bundle of yarn with two needles sticking out if it from a basket that sits below the loveseat.

She pulls the needles from the bundle, careful not to drop any of the stitches and begins to knit. Once she knits a couple stitches, she looks up at me, her hands still busy and says, "Your mother stopped talking to me after I tried to convince her to leave your father and give you up for adoption."

I gasp.

"I want you to know, my dear, that I have regretted that for twenty-five years."

"Why would you tell her to do that?"

"Well, I was just scared she would end up like me, and I also didn’t like the idea of her leaving me behind. I had no right to put that much pressure on your mother. I'm not sure if your mother ever told you much about me or her life growing up." Kate eyes search mine.

I shake