Counting Stars (A Donnelley Brother's Novel) (4 page)

Shaking the thought from
my mind, I took a deep breath and I set to replying to Gracie’s
email.

To:
[email protected]

Subject:
Getting to know you . . . getting to know me . .
.

From:
Reese James

Gracie,

I will
try to answer your questions to the best of my ability.

I am
twenty-three. I work as a freelance writer/editor from home (I feel
as though I have it made). I don’t have children. I’m a city girl
born and raised, but I’ve always had a love of nature. I’ve always
enjoyed taking long walks and visiting the mountains during both
the summer and winter seasons.

I
honestly don’t know where I see myself ending up, but lately the
city is unsatisfactory for me (I suppose that’s why I’ve found
you). And no, I don’t have a criminal record (I’m pretty
straight-laced—some would even say boring). I don’t have any
animals. One day I would like to have one (or six) but I haven’t
gotten around to it yet. And currently, I do own a house. However,
I have just recently put it up for sale.

I
would love if you answered the same questions you asked
me!

Reese

Her reply was almost
instantaneous.

To:
[email protected]

Subject:
Getting to know you . . . getting to know me . .
.

From:
Gracie Donnelley

I’m
delighted to find that you’re not a criminal! I will be certain to
assure John first thing in the morning!

However, I noticed a few oddities about your reply. You said
you own a house. (Do you not consider this house yours)?

And I
noticed that you completely missed answering my question of
marriage? Is this a no-go subject?

About
me . . .

I am
fifty-seven. I know, I know, I’m old. Or so that’s what people tell
me. But I believe you’re only as old as you allow yourself to be.
So, until I can’t walk anymore I’ll keep telling myself I’m
young!

As you
know, I’m married. I’ve been married to John since I was eighteen
and he was twenty. He’s the love of my life (even though sometimes
I want to strangle him). He gave me four wonderful boys.

For a
living . . . well, you know what I do. I’m a wild-land tour guide!
And I love it!

I’ve
always been a country gal. In my opinion, there’s no other way to
live life. My husband and I own a nice chunk of land. Our four boys
also live on the land with us. They’re all country boys—strong
muscles and even stronger heads! Gotta love em!

We
also have a little farm going on. (Or that’s what it seems like
sometimes). Between the lot of us, we have seven dogs, ten cats, a
few geese, and twenty-four horses.

On the
property, we have multiple cabins we rent out for different periods
of time. We offer the option to ride our horses as a complimentary
part of the package. It’s a country retreat. I’m so very proud of
what we have here.

Also,
I have no criminal record. (Thank goodness no one’s caught me
streaking!) By the way, I’m kidding. Sort of.

Gracie

Again, reading her email
made me laugh. The woman was truly a breath of fresh air and she
knew nothing about me. She didn’t know I was sad. She didn’t know I
had loved and lost. She didn’t know that at the delicately young
age of twenty-three, I was a widow.

The thought numbed me
and the sound of my laughter died on my lips.

. . . I started thinking about you. Thinking about how
little Gracie knows about me makes me think of how much you knew.
You knew
everything.
You knew that I
hated cotton underwear—only lace or silk will do. You also knew
that I dislike wearing those fancy, sexy bras. A comfortable little
sports bra or nothing is how I roll. You used to tease me about
that.

I miss hearing the play
in your voice when you scolded me for leaving the house without a
proper bra.

You knew that when I was
sick or sad, I sat in the shower. No chicken noodle soup for this
girl! Warm water and the flickering light of a candle is the most
soothing thing of all. I miss the way you would massage the pads of
your fingers into my shoulders as I stressed over work. As soon as
I stopped talking fast (I knew you never understood me) you would
take my hand in yours and you would lead me up the stairs. In the
bathroom, you would strip me down to nothing before setting the
water just right. Then, you would hold the curtain back as I
climbed inside. Once I was settled, you would light me a single
candle. (Always vanilla scented). Then you would turn out the
light. Sometimes, depending on the severity of my frazzled nerves,
you would sit in the bathroom with me. There were times when you
talked to me and there were times when you remained quiet, your
presence a simple comfort.

I miss the way you
sacrificed your comfort every winter for my warmth. You loathed
those fleece sheets I loved. You always were a furnace. But most of
all, I miss the way you knew I loved to be kissed.

Knowing that there is someone out in the world, who
wants to know me, frightens me. It’s not that I don’t want to be
known—but I don’t want anyone to know me the way you did. You knew
me unlike anyone else. You were a part of me. And now you’re gone
and I don’t know how to move on from you. I’m trying. Believe me
when I say I’m trying to move on with my life—but how do I do that
when you
were
my life. We’d been together since I was
sixteen and you were seventeen. You were all I had ever known. You
were my first and you were supposed to be my last. The idea that at
some point, I might let another in is terrifyingly painful for me.
It’s almost too much to bear.

I know if you could, you
would encourage me to go on this trip with Gracie. And I know you
would approve of the month of August. The month you proposed to
me—the month we married—the month I would hopefully heal. I need to
accept your death, because if I don’t, I’ll never live. And I know
that would disappoint you.

I can’t disappoint you .
. .

To:
[email protected]

Subject:
Getting to know you . . . getting to know me . .
.

From:
Reese James

Gracie
. . . marriage . . . this is a hard subject for me. But I suppose
you’ll figure it out one day. And maybe this might help me . . . to
email about it . . . because I’m so terribly bad at talking about
it.

I was
with Derek for almost six years. We were married in August and he
passed away the following May. We were married for only nine months
before I lost him. I lost everything. Even myself.

It’s
been exactly a year. The day I contacted you was also the day I put
my house up for sale . . . that day marks the anniversary of his
death. The day I became a widow.

So no,
I don’t view this house as mine. It was ours. This place is a place
of memories that are too painful for me to continue living in. They
are all I see anymore. Although parting with these walls, where so
much of Derek remains will be hard, I know he wouldn’t want me to
continue living the way that I am. It’s been a year. I’ve mourned.
And now I have to try, at least, to live.

Now
that I’ve gotten that painful bit off my chest . . .
whew!

You
have four boys! My my! I can’t imagine the trouble it must have
been to raise them! You and your husband surely deserve an award.
Do you come from a large family yourself? I can’t imagine having so
many children. The thought is just exhausting! (I can’t imagine the
real thing).

So,
Wild Land Tours . . . what made you and your husband start
something like that? I’ve always been relatively active, but I’ve
never really done anything outside in the wild. I’ve rock climbed .
. . in a controlled environment, but never in the real thing. One
day, I think I’d like to try. I’m kinda feeling envious of your
lifestyle right now . . . sigh . . .

Reese

To:
[email protected]

Subject:
Getting to know you . . . getting to know me . .
.

From:
Gracie Donnelley

Oh,
Reese . . .

If I
were there, I’d give you one big squeeze. Now, I’m not going to
apologize for your loss. I’m going to congratulate you on finding
someone you loved so deeply at such a young age. The things you
learned with Derek are things you will carry with you for a
lifetime. But know that it is possible to love more than one soul.
You don’t need to let go of Derek—not when he made you so much of
who you are today. You simply need to heal yourself. You need to
find your way—a new path. And you will. I have faith in
you.

You’ve
already taken the first steps in finding a new pace, a new path. In
contacting me, you’ve taken your first steps toward healing. I
would like to congratulate you on that very large and difficult
step. I am honored that you’ve chosen me. I have faith that our
journey will be an emotionally enlightening one. I don’t find it
coincidental that you contacted me on the anniversary of Derek’s
death—or that you want to spend August healing. I think you’ve
chosen significant times in your life for a reason and I also
believe, that because of the impact those times have had on you,
you’ll be in the right frame of mind for healing. I want you to
know I am neither intimidated by your grief nor uncomfortable with
it. Rest assured, I very much look forward to our time
together.

And my
boys . . .

They
have been exhausting at times (both mentally and physically)! But
they are great. Actually, I think they keep both myself, and John,
young. Every day that goes by one of them will say or do something
that inevitably makes my head spin. But that’s how I raised them.
Strong willed with an even stronger mind. Boy, my boys are
determined. When one of them wants something—they go for it with
everything they have inside of them. (Imagine that in the
sandbox!)

Speaking of children—do you think you might someday want
kids? I understand this may be a sensitive question, but know that
children make the world a brighter place. And watching them grow
into adults with the values you instill, well, there isn’t much in
life that’s more fulfilling.

Wild
Land Tours. Well, both John and I have always been active. After
school we would hike the mountainside, climb rock, and swim in
sometimes dangerous waters. We lived for it. We were best friends
before we were anything else and we decided that this was how we
wanted to live our life. Shortly after getting married, we started
a small touring business that had more success than we ever
dreamed. When I got pregnant with my first son, Logan, we knew this
was the life we wanted to give our children. So, we started
building a little retreat so I could remain home with the kids
while John handled the tours. For a while, we hired others to tour,
but when the boys became old enough, they began working the tours,
as well. We all love what we do. I thank the heavens a thousand
times over that none of my boys wanted to go off and become some
high class city lawyer. I don’t know what I would have
done.

So,
that’s how Wild Land Tours became what it is today. We’re a family
and we all love to share our love of the land with those who seek
to know it.

Gracie

Gracie’s email made me
cry a river—before it made me laugh almost uncontrollably. Her
outlook on my grief made me see it differently. I was so thankful
for her not apologizing. An apology for a loss is a weak way of
skirting the uncomfortable. She made me feel like living
again—without Derek—was a possibility. She made me feel hope.

And then she made me
laugh. I swear I sounded like I belonged in the loony-bin. As my
tears of grief bloomed into tears of laughter over imagining this
amazing woman raise four hellions in the sandbox, I felt something
I hadn’t felt blossom within my heart in a year. Joy. Pure joy. It
was wonderful. I captured that joy and I held onto it for dear life
as I imagined a mother so bright, and caring, and wise, raising
four headstrong boys. I felt almost excited to hear more about
them. Maybe she would change my outlook on having children of my
own one day. Who knew?