Page 42 of Gracie Harris Is Under Construction
“Yes, I think so. To be clear, I proofread and workshopped those fifty pages hard. Everything else is still pretty raw. But I do think that what you’ve read is indicative of the style and tone of the rest.”
“Perfect, just absolutely perfect,” she says, getting teary again, before turning to Josh. “Have you read any of this yet?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve had the privilege of watching her in action all summer. She’s a machine, and I don’t want to mess her up.”
“You keep protecting our girl’s creative process,” she says directly to Josh with a stern face before turning to me again. “You’ll be done soon, and Jeannie is going to be so freaking thrilled with this. People are going to go crazy for this book, Gracie.”
Felicity is not one for bullshit, and neither am I.
If she says it’s good, it means it’s really good.
To be honest, I’ve felt that way since I wrote the first chapter in my bedroom nearly a year ago.
Having a professional like Felicity tell you that the writing is great, however, is on a different level.
I’m bursting with happiness and pride when I realize I’m squeezing Josh’s hand extra hard and he’s holding me just as tightly back.
—
A few hours later, we’re laughing over dessert and wine at the French-inspired bistro off of Main Street. Felicity is regaling us with her latest dating mishaps.
“Josh, sorry to put you through this conversation, but Gracie and I have a tradition of sharing our ridiculous experiences. It’s the only way a gal can survive being single as she enters middle age,” Felicity says in a playful tone.
“I thought you said you were twenty-nine,” he says, turning to me and making a puzzled face.
Panic crosses Felicity’s face before I can elbow Josh in his side.
“He’s joking,” I exclaim. Felicity lets out a deep, relieved breath and starts to belly laugh.
When the server brings the bill, all three of us reach for it. I bow out quickly and let equally determined Felicity and Josh fight for the honor.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Josh, but Gracie is about to make me and others a lot of money. This is the least that I can do to show my appreciation.”
After she pays, she asks if there are any bars that stay open past 7 p.m. that we can get one more drink at before heading home.
“Just a few blocks away,” Josh responds. “It’s not that small of a town.”
On the walk over, Felicity tells us how much she likes Canopy. She’s amazed by how much I can walk to from the house. “Everything you need is here, Gracie!” she tells me excitedly. Felicity is already three drinks in, so I make a mental note to only let her have one more.
Despite my love of margaritas I’m not a big drinker, so this is the first time I’ve made it to the bar—High Tide. It’s got a strong hipster vibe, with dark wood walls, a mirrored bar shelf, and bartenders in black button-up shirts. No doubt transplants from some bigger city opened this place.
We grab three stools at the bar. Before I pop into mine, I ask Josh to order me a drink and excuse myself to use the restroom.
A few minutes later, I’m tucked around the corner from the bar on the way back when I hear Josh and Felicity midconversation. I can’t see them, but their voices rise above the chatter.
“I’m serious. I’m just so happy she found you, Josh. It really feels like this is all meant to be. This is a new version of Gracie for me. You have to remember that I met her at one of the saddest times of her life. She’s just so full of joy and so vibrant now—it’s so beautiful.”
“You’re being too nice. I don’t think I had all that much to do with it.”
“I’m certain that you did.”
There’s a brief silence before Felicity says something else in a serious but also decidedly alcohol-infused tone. “Josh, I think she really likes you. Like, a lot. I hope you’re as serious about her as I think you are.”
What Josh says back makes me warm and happy and also inexplicably sad somewhere deep inside.
“Felicity, I was a goner from the first moment I saw her. It took a lot of self-control not to tell her I loved her by the second week at the house. I think she’s perfect.”
“I’m glad to hear that. She’s been through a lot, and she deserves that sort of affection. Judging by the way she looks at you, I suspect that love is flowing in both directions.”
I pop back around the corner before Felicity can divulge anything deeper than that. Or maybe I’m more nervous about what else Josh might say.
“I was just telling Josh how much I like this new Gracie. In a crazy way, I feel like I’m meeting you for the first time on this trip,” she says.
Last week when I video chatted with my closest friend from Chapel Hill, she said almost the exact same thing. This is like an entirely new Gracie I’m seeing!
What is going on in my head right now? This summer. Josh. My writing routine. It’s all made things better. I’m happier, healthier, and feeling a lightness that hasn’t been present in a long time. Why then do I have the twinge of sadness pinching my insides?
—
After I say good night to Felicity and make sure her tipsy legs make it safely up the stairs, I flow back through the house, turning off lights and locking the front door.
When I open the guest room door, Josh is pulling his fancy shirt over his head instead of unbuttoning it. He walks over to give me a perfectly delicate kiss and a hug.
“You okay?” he asks while we’re still wrapped together. “Something seemed a little off at the bar.”
“I think I just got a little overwhelmed all of a sudden,” I say, telling the truth before adding a slight lie. “The impact of what Felicity said about the book just hit me.”
“Let yourself be overwhelmed but also enjoy it. You should be really proud of yourself. I’m proud of you. I also know it’s a lot to take in.”
Despite twinges in my belly and how fuzzy my brain feels, I can’t help but melt into Josh.
My hands run up and down his chest and around to his back.
I gently move my nails down his spine, which makes him arch his back and pelvis toward me.
His hands move from my lower back to the front of me, cupping my breasts softly.
There is a tenderness to us tonight—as if we’re both wrestling with so much inside that our bodies need something gentle.
In quick succession, my sundress is unzipped and his pants are off. He lifts me onto the bed and lays me down carefully. I love the feel of his arms as he does this. Tonight there is no foreplay, just our bodies connected and moving in motion.
Do I love this man? Is this real? Am I ready for this? All these thoughts are running through my mind, when suddenly, I can’t think at all.
—
“I didn’t hear any noise last night, so if you did have sex with that very cute boyfriend of yours, I’m happy to report that the sound doesn’t travel up the stairs.”
Felicity and I are both adjusting our hiking sandals before setting off on a mile-long trail to a waterfall. Her flight leaves this afternoon, and she refuses to depart without spending time in nature.
“Thanks for the confirmation, because there was definitely fornication last night,” I say to make her laugh.
She quickly directs our walking chat to questions about me and how I’ve managed to climb out of the “widow funk,” as she’s comically branded it.
“You almost sold the house—which, for the record, would’ve been a complete mistake. But are you surprised how much this town and these people are really working for you?”
A few weeks ago, I might’ve answered that I was surprised, but I don’t think that’s really the case.
I keep thinking about how Ben told me back in our early twenties that I was a small-town girl at heart.
We were living in Boston after moving from Chicago, and neither of us felt like we were truly in the right place.
You aren’t a big-city girl, Gracie , I remember him telling me. You are destined for a small town .
Eventually, he talked me into returning to North Carolina in his pitch for grad school. Within months of landing in our home state, we were lounging in a hammock in the backyard of our rented house at the time and I told him, You’re right. This feels good .
The wild thing is knowing that Ben was even more right than we realized, because here in Canopy, in a truly small town, I feel relaxed and able to breathe for the first time in a long while. I tell her all of this as we walk, making the trail seem even easier than I expected.
“I like how much people love being here—living here. My parents trained me to think that small towns were places people ended up in by accident or because they had no other options. Chapel Hill obviously helped me figure out that’s bullshit, but being here in Canopy, it’s just on a whole different level.
Everyone is here because they want to be, me included. ”
“Do you feel more like your old self here—more like the Gracie that existed before Ben died?”
“No,” I respond so quickly that it surprises us both. “I feel more like myself than ever before, but I also don’t feel the same. Is that weird?”
Felicity is looking intently at me now as we pass a trail marker that indicates we’re halfway there. Unlike usual, Felicity doesn’t try to jump in and fill the space. She just lets my thoughts wander out loud.
“I guess,” I say slowly, careful to choose each word with purpose, “that being in a new place where I make my own decisions and focus on myself has really been transformative for me. I miss my kids so much, but I’ve also been able to be Gracie the person since I got here.
Not just a mom or a wife or a widow, but a full version of myself. ”
“There’s a noticeable shift in you,” Felicity says. “I hope you find it empowering to chart this next journey for yourself, hopefully with a man who loves you by your side.”
“It’s only been six weeks since we met. I’m not sure he loves me.”