Grace

Leaving her Poppy in Dorothy’s care, Shiloh arrived early to meet Jesse at the river. She pulled her car in to the last spot and backed it in. Before exiting her Taurus she leaned over her steering wheel, soaking in every detail. It was just like the old days. Gravel and dirt parking for fourteen cars marked with cement markers. Behind her was a sheer ledge of tangled pines, brush, and forest-like foliage filled with all things that make you itchy should you decide to try to make your way up after too many cocktails. In front of her beyond the parking was the dewy, emerald green slope leading down to the Rogue River; hundreds of feet of green expanse in both directions, hugging the river for over a mile, dotted by silver drums, wooden benches and two stone barbeque pits. On the other side, across the expanse of the slow moving river was another ledge rising up of landscape choking pines, oaks, and more itchy shrubbery. How many times she had walked barefoot through that grass, each blade licking the bottoms of her feet? Down closer to the river she saw the spot.
She remembered pulling into the same spot with James, Grace and Jesse right after the game that made James a legend with the town. Shiloh smiled at the sweet memory. They celebrated here. This place was also where James proposed to Grace.
On the chilly nights, they built a bonfire in the steel drums. The four of them bundled with scarves and gloves, sipping the warmth of whatever they could scrounge from Jesse’s parent’s liquor stash, concealed in the Big Gulp Styrofoam façade. On the hot nights, they would skinny dip in the cool river, wrapping themselves only in the dark of the southern Oregon stars. They felt this place was “theirs.” Very few knew of it. The tiny park’s entryway was camouflaged by the surrounding foliage and was difficult to see, even when you knew it was there. As the fog weaved around her vision, she saw it in the distance--the second wooden bench; yet, now it was nailed and cemented down to keep it from disappearing as it had a tendency to do when the four of them were teens. Even in these last five years, Shiloh came here every time she was home.
Shiloh checked the time on her Blackberry. Thirty minutes early. Before losing her signal, he tried calling Grace again but it went straight to voicemail. She didn’t leave a message and began wondering why her friend had not responded to her two prior text messages. Shiloh thought, Must be busy with the remodel or the kids. And she wonders why I don’t call her…

Chapter 9
Those summers at the river were the happiest days Jesse could remember; surrounded by the warmth of a southern Oregon summer, the quenching beauty of the Rogue River, the unconditional love of friends, the care-free college student life with Corky and Gabe watching over them all. The sunlight bouncing off Corky’s black coat triggered memories of Shiloh’s long black hair. The two girls that stirred Jesse’s soul at play in the Rogue River and another who would lead his soul to safety. He tucked away these happy moments, never realizing how often he would return to them and gather strength from them.
As he drove his old pick up to meet Shiloh at the river, he reminisced, hoping for a new start and the possibility of making happier times with Shiloh. He shook his head as he thought back to what ended it with Shiloh. If she only knew how sorry he was; what a mistake it had been when she walked in on him with her. What a misunderstanding. He thought back on that first hunting trip with Corky and hoped beyond the odds for something miraculous to come of this night. As he approached the turn off for the river, he watched his rear view mirror for cars to safely make the exit. A slight sadness pricked at his eyelids by not seeing Corky in the rearview. His vision turned from the rearview to the windshield and river in front of him.

Shiloh got out of her car, building her strength to face Jesse. Folding her arms across her, leaning against the hood of her Taurus, she gathered warmth and security from the steel hood she rested on. She inhaled; relieved yet petrified, watching Jesse’s faded blue Ford pick-up truck making its way slowly into the gravel parking area. He backed into the spot in front of her. Her heart skipped a few beats. Just like the old times, Shiloh thought, pursing her lips to stifle the smile at the memory of their “kissing cars.”

Jesse pulled in and seeing Shiloh’s offensive stance he reminded himself, “Slow and easy. Here’s your shot at setting things right. God give me the words and let the truth set me free.”
Stepping out of his truck, he bundled his scarf tighter against the chill in the air and in her demeanor. He approached the fronts of their vehicles.
A tiny smile curved the edges of his mouth at seeing Shiloh, “Thanks for seeing me, Shi. God, it is good to…let me just look at you.”
Jesse resisted the urge to pick her up, hug her tight and swing her around. He filled his chest deeply with the misty air as he gathered his courage to speak, “I am so sorry.” Jesse paused, “I’ve learned that the first sorry is seldom heard, so please know, I—am—sorry.” He watched her face, studied her stance, wanting to take her hands in his as if he could transfuse his sincerity to her.
“If it takes the rest of my life to prove this to you, I’ll do what it takes. Hear me out, babe. You were so right. And about so many things. It’s taken me a long time to try to figure out why what happened even happened. I hope you’ll understand.”
Her face bombarded him with her stoicism. His defenses buckled, “Shi, it doesn’t make what happened right, but you never opened up to me; about your parents, about your dreams. Mostly what troubled me--the nightmares. You wouldn’t tell me. I felt helpless.”
She hadn’t moved an inch since he began. Barely breathing, unblinking, heart pulsating in her ears; she stared at him like a fly in her chardonnay.