Page 11 of Grace Notes
Today was my last final for the summer semester, and it finally feels like I can breathe. I have four weeks until the fall semester but haven’t decided if I’m returning.
Maybe it means I quit when things get hard, but I also don’t want my family to come last—and right now, it feels like they are.
Avery has been quiet and withdrawn for weeks, and when she isn’t, she’s grumpy. I’m trying to be patient because I know she’s going through a lot, but I’m at my wit’s end.
The post office looms ahead. There’s a check sitting in the seat beside me that needs to be sent out to a vendor, and even though I would love to go home, it has to be sent out today. So, I flick on my signal light and then groan when I see the amount of cars in the parking lot.
So much for a quick trip.
The parking lot is packed with cars that I recognize, mostly from older women in town who I know will talk my ear off if given the chance.
On a normal day, I wouldn’t mind. I like listening to these women tell their stories, even if they do offer unsolicited advice most of the time. But today was rough. I felt wholly unprepared for that final I just took, and Avery was crying when I left this morning. It’s all I could think about while I was testing.
Sniffing and trying to hold back the tears the memory of her face brings to my eyes, I pull into a parking space and shut off the engine.
I clear my throat and square my shoulders before I grab the envelope off my seat and shove open my door.
Walking across the parking lot feels like walking across a desert. The door is so close and yet so far away. And when I finally make it, the metal handle is chilled against my skin. With a fortifying breath, I yank it open and step in.
The bell jingles above the door, and six sets of eyes find mine, including Mrs. Evert—the pastor’s wife who is as eccentric and brilliant as Einstein.
“Oh, Emryn. It’s so nice to see you. It’s been a month of Sundays.”
I can’t help but giggle. The woman is dramatic. She saw me last Sunday at church.
“Mrs. Evert,” I greet, offering her a polite smile.
The other women around her watch our interaction, eyes bouncing between us, dying for some gossip, but I just smile politely back at them.
“How’s the planning going for that vow renewal of yours?” One of the women behind Mrs. Evert asks.
I wince.
Mrs. Della Ray Humes.
She’s the nosiest woman in the whole town—biggest gossip, too. Tell her a secret, and it’s all over town within a minute.
“Oh, we’re making progress,” I say, not wanting to tell her everything that has gone wrong with the planning just this week.
If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Besides my dress not fitting, I’ve also had to put off making the centerpieces for finals. The caterer had a mix-up with the food we ordered, and there are a hundred other things that I haven’t even gotten to yet.
“I heard you’re doing your own flower arrangements,” Another of the women pipes up, snarling her nose in disgust. “Poor Mabel down at the flower shop was distraught about that one.”
I press my lips into a polite smile, breathing through my nose. “Yes, we are using the wildflowers that surround our house. They are sentimental for us, and Avery is excited about helping with the arrangements.”
“Is it true you’re having BBQ for the reception?”
“Will Brooks’s father be in attendance?”
“What venue are you using? Something local, I hope.”
The questions come at me faster than I can process, and my whole body freezes in place, a heavy weight sitting on my chest.
I know they have good intentions, but right now, those questions feel more pointed than anything.
Tears swell in my eyes, and I berate myself for getting upset over something trivial. My eyelashes flutter against my cheek, trying to prevent tears from falling. The clock behind the women chimes, and I zero in on it, giving me a focus point.
A warm hand lands on my arm and squeezes. Dropping my gaze, I find Mrs. Evert offering me a gentle smile.
