Page 26 of One More Time

He followed the winding stone pathway lined with a multitude of colourful summer flowers, watching as the ominous clouds ravenously swallowed up the blue. Mother Nature’s temperament was volatile at the moment; one day warm and bright and promising, and the next day broody and melancholy.

He could relate. The only thing keeping him somewhat even-keeled of late were sneaky nips from his hipflask. Although, he had to admit that the mouthfuls of whisky were becoming more frequent, more necessary, to curb the tremor in his hands. No longer was it a drink with dinner, or a few drinks afterwards, to get him relaxed enough to sleep. It was becoming harder for him to cover up his hangovers, and the smell of alcohol on his breath. And he hated the fact he was hiding all this from his beautiful wife, as if he was living a lie. If he didn’t find a way to quit drinking soon, Grace was going to find out.

He knew in his heart that his vice was going to lead him down a very dark path if he didn’t find another way to numb his heartache or erase the lingering fear of his resuming nightmares.

He was a fool to keep telling himself, tomorrow. I’ll stop tomorrow.

He knew it was a lie.

Reaching the peak, with sweeping ocean views, he held his baker’s hat against the gusty wind as he traipsed across the pristine lawn of Sapphire Bay’s only cemetery. Reaching his grandma’s final resting place, he knelt upon the grass and placed the bright yellow sunflowers he’d picked from her garden at Moonflower Acres into the vase at her headstone. Then, turning to the left, he ran a hand over the smooth stone of the neighbouring gravestone, tracing the etching of his grandfather’s name, followed by the verse his grandma had chosen: The righteous shall go into life eternal. It was fitting for his grandfather, but Charlie couldn’t help wondering if he would be so lucky.

Coming back to his feet he shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at his grandma’s granite headstone, his vision blurring as he read the words he and Grace had chosen: Now dancing in the heavens.

Grace believed wholeheartedly that his grandparents were now reunited and swaying each other across the heavenly skies to the tunes of Charley Pride and Johnny Cash. If only he could find the same strength of faith. He wasn’t sure he ever would again. That only added to his frustrations, and to Grace’s. Only yesterday, they’d had another heated discussion when he’d once again refused to go to church with her.

The urge to spill what was weighing heavily upon his heart welled up, tightening his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say, to share. Where should he start? Dropping his head, he took out a packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, slipped one between his lips, cupped it against the wind and lit up. Inhaling deeply, he blew smoke rings skywards as he thought about his life.

‘I’m really messing up by drinking again,’ he finally said. ‘I know I should be happy, with a wife as loving as Grace and a baby on the way, but … there’s just something inside of me, always reminding me that I turned my back on the man who had my back so many times in Vietnam. I can feel it, scraping on my soul.’

A seagull flew overhead, squawking, and he paused to watch it fly out of sight. ‘Everything just feels so … meaningless. And that’s crazy, because I’m a husband, and soon to be a father.’ He heaved a weary sigh. ‘I thought, being a lover of cars, I’d enjoy selling them, but I don’t.’ He looked to the graves as if waiting for a response, feeling a little silly for doing so. Nonetheless, he continued with his one-way conversation. ‘Grace is doing so well with Serendipity. People are coming from far and wide to eat her amazing food, and I’m happy for her. She often asks me to come help. She wants to include me. But that’s her passion, not mine.’

The sound of the sea breeze stirring the tree canopy protecting him from the early-morning sunshine was his only response. ‘Maybe when I see my child’s eyes staring back at me, when I feel little fingers wrap around mine, I’ll find my purpose. I hope I do.’ He drew in a breath, nodded, then crouched down to pluck a few weeds. ‘Anyway, I’ll be back in a week. You take care of each other up there, won’t you?’

He straightened, his gaze lingering over the graves before he turned and made his way back to his car. He revved it to life, and when the song he and Grace had first danced to came over the radio, he had an epiphany. Today was Grace’s first day off from the teashop in over a week, and he was going to take her to the local markets. It had been too long since he’d put that sunshiny smile he loved so much upon her stunning face.

They used to share every intimate detail of their days, but now, like two ships passing, they found it hard to find the necessary time to nourish their connection.

He missed her.

He missed them.

When he arrived back at the homestead and suggested an afternoon out together, Grace was thrilled. By the time they’d pulled up at the markets two hours later, the dark clouds had relinquished their right to the bright blue sky, and it was a perfect autumn day. It felt as if half the township was doing the same thing. Even the pooches were out in force, big and small, fluffy and shorthaired, prancing and strutting on leads, all craning their necks to sniff one another as they passed.

Wandering the stalls hand-in-hand, Charlie savoured the feeling of Grace’s delicate fingers interlaced with his. Never a second passed where he didn’t feel blessed having her love him, and he was genuinely happy for her happiness in achieving her dreams with the teashop. At the same time, he couldn’t quite squash a dark feeling deep down that he’d been short-changed, going from the military to being a mere car salesman.

Passing a cake stand with a delectable array of mouth-watering goodies, followed by a handmade candle boutique with exotic smells, Grace paused at a jewellery stall. Her hand came protectively to the pronounced curve of her belly as she regarded the dainty pieces arranged on an ivory tablecloth with furrowed attention. Charlie couldn’t help but smile as he kept his gaze upon her – his jewel – as she bit her bottom lip.

Her thoughtful expression giving way to delight, her protective hand went to her chest. ‘Oh, Charlie. This is the prettiest brooch I think I’ve ever seen.’ She pointed to a glimmering sapphire surrounded by shimmering diamonds, and then turned to meet his gaze. ‘Don’t you think it’s beautiful?’

‘I think you’re beautiful.’ He closed the few inches between them and looked to the man opposite who was eyeing them like a hawk. ‘Could we please have a look at this piece?’ He pointed to the brooch.

‘Yes, of course, sir.’ The middle-aged man picked it up, placed it on a cloth, and handed it over to Charlie.

Grace took a closer look. ‘Oh, it’s absolutely perfect.’

‘You’re perfect, Grace,’ he said firmly.

‘Oh stop it, you charmer, or you’re going to make me blush like a beetroot.’ Her soft laughter made the corners of her eyes crinkle.

‘Well, if you love the brooch so much, it’s yours.’

Grace’s face lit up. ‘Really?’

Charlie’s heart burst – oh how he loved seeing her happy, all because of him. ‘Yes, really.’

She glowed beside him as he took out his wallet and paid the gentleman a pretty penny for the pretty piece. ‘Consider this a token of how much I love you, my sweet wife.’ He carefully pinned it to her blouse.

‘Thank you so very much, my darling husband.’ Reaching up on her tippy toes, Grace kissed him on the lips, and lingered there for a few moments. ‘I will treasure this, just like I treasure you, for all of my days.’