Second Chances Chapter Sixteen
A Day With Grace
Grace told the cabby the address of the apartment across from Washington Park. “It’s a short walk to the bistro and the spot where we met near the river. If you don’t think you can…”
“I can walk a few blocks Miss Hendricks…Grace. I’ll be fine, don’t coddle me please?” Harold didn’t mean to snap at the woman, she was just being considerate. Getting out and getting some fresh air was still what he wanted, just not with her. John, him and the dog in a park together was where he wanted to be. Was that a memory, it so felt familiar?
After a tense moment Harold got out of the cab, and limped up to the steps, pointedly ignoring her proffered help. He carefully ascended the few steps. Harold misjudged the height of one step and caught his foot on it, thankfully his good leg was already higher up on the next level and he only had to grab the bannister to steady himself.
Harold turned to see a panicked Grace at the base of the stairs. “I’m fine, can we just go in now please. I am a bit winded and would appreciate it if I could go in and sit a bit.” He gave her a reassuring smile.
Once inside she showed him into a living area with a floral patterned couch on which Grace asked him to sit. She offered him something to drink, and went off to get him the “Anything is fine, thank you.”
While she was in another room Harold looked around. He saw himself in a picture with Grace.
We do look happy in it; I just don’t remember anything of this house, although I was supposed to have lived here for months after I proposed.
Harold tried, really tried. He couldn’t remember anything about the house or Grace. Trying to remember anything was like looking at a blank wall. He kept forcing his brain to remember something, anything about his former fiancé. Despite how hard he tried that blank wall always filled with images like a blurry out of focus video of John and him together somewhere.
Grace brought a tray with two tumblers of iced tea, a sugar bowl, 2 teaspoons and a saucer of lemon slices. “I know this isn’t your tea, Sencha Green it was, hot 2 sugars… I quit buying it when…”
Harold took one glass, “It’s okay, and this is fine.” He added 2 spoons sugar and squeezed a slice of lemon into it and stirred the tea, before settling back on the coach.
Grace did the same, though she sat in the couch’s matching chair and hopefully asked. “Do you remember anything?”
Her expectant smile faded at his “No, I’m sorry, Grace, there’s nothing.”
He got up, carefully limping across the room and picked up the picture, “I see we were happy once, again I’m sorry I hurt you, letting you believe I was gone. But I don’t think I am this man in the picture anymore. Please don’t get your hopes up; things will never be the same, they can’t be. Look at me, really look, Grace.”
Grace got up and came over to him, lightly touched his arm,” I know you’ve changed, we both have, but can we keep trying just for a while. If what I show you in the next few days don’t trigger any memories, I won’t push anymore. Okay?”
Harold put the picture down, moved around Grace to pick up his glass once more and finished its contents. “Okay. I’m ready. I can’t promise you anything, I’m sorry.”
In the next few hours, they walked at Harold’s pace, to the riverside park where Grace showed him the place she had set up her easel the first day they met. Later they sat down at a table in the quaint little bistro Grace mentioned earlier.
As they sat at a table outside Grace told Harold about much they both loved Italy, wanted to go there together one day and how much he had loved her paintings. Grace told him about her life before she met him and when she had decided to become an artist. Listening to Grace, Harold wished he could remember something of her. She was a lovely person, and he understood why he had loved her once, but not anymore. Harold didn’t want to hurt her; he liked her well enough but just didn’t feel anything stronger.
“Can we leave now? I am getting a bit tired and I am worried about John. I know he is supposed to be watching out for me until I am better, but I think it should be both ways. John was hurt too and I am afraid he’ll overdo it.”
Grace looked as if she had been relieved of some sense of duty before she covered it up with a defeated slump of her shoulders, and a resigned, “I’ll call the cab,” and pulled out her cell phone.
It was a quiet ride back to his condominium. When it pulled up to the curb, Harold apologized again to his onetime fiancé. Grace made a half-hearted promise to call him the next day about going to other places where he might remember something. Harold got out and watched the cab drive away. When he turned to walk up to the door he saw John watching him from a window before the curtain quickly closed.
John met him at the door and they both went inside together. John closed the door behind them watching Harold manage the stairs before asking, “How did it go?” Harold turned, looking up at John waiting for the other man to follow him down the short flight of steps before he answered.
“It was a pleasant outing. Grace is a lovely person; I actually like her, but nothing she told me, not anything she showed me made me remember a time I felt anything more.”
John knew Harold had to have seen the relief he felt and it had to have shown on his face before he'd tried to hide it. Harold never missed a thing. Yet still Reese persisted.
John turned as if he intended to walk away so Harold couldn’t tell how much he was forcing himself to say it, “You’re still going to spend more time with Grace? Maybe someplace else will…”
“John! Wait!” Harold grabbed at the other man’s arm to spin him around.
“Please stop pushing, John! Just stop! I don’t want her; I want you. You and I were…are more than friends; you’ll never convince me otherwise. You try to hide it, but I can tell how much it hurts you when you are trying to convince me I need to be with Grace. You think I can’t see the pain in your eyes? I told you before, I’m not completely blind. You think I didn’t notice the relief on your face just now when I told you nothing happened? Why do you keep pushing me away? Tell me!”
“Harold, I just…”
Before John could finish they were interrupted by 70 pounds of Belgian Malenois.
~*~
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
ChaSeven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen