Finding Grace

She shivered, and wrapped her light cardigan more tightly around her narrow frame. The park was chilly today. Too cold for mid April. But it was always colder near water. And she had chosen the bench closest to the pond. She could always get up and sit somewhere else. But something about this bench felt right somehow. So she stayed.

The grass near the pond was withered and brown, but still looked soft. She wanted to run over and sprawl out on the spongy soil, right under the branches of the gnarled old willow that had been at the pond since before she could remember.But she was tired. And her back was sore. Just the thought of sitting on the ground was enough to make her muscles ache.

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of pine trees. She inhaled deeply, taking in the deliciously spicy smell. When she let it out again, her breath was visible. She smiled, remembering how, as a child, she’d always made sure to take long pretzels to school on cold days. She and her friends would puff on them, pretending they were cigars, and see who could make the biggest cloud.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she’d forgotten her surroundings, and jumped as someone suddenly spoke to her.  “I’m sorry,” she said politely to the elderly man now standing at the bench, “but  I didn’t hear you.”

His brown eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “No need to apologize.” Something about his presence put her at ease, and she found herself smiling back at him.

 He tipped his hat at her. “Ben.” 

Did people still do that? Did they even wear hats anymore? They definitely didn’t wear old fashioned, wide brimmed Borsalino numbers like the one he had on. But it suited him, somehow. 

“Hello, Ben. Nice to meet you.”

This was the part when he’d ask her name. She wondered if he’d think she was rude for not giving it to him. He was a stranger, after all. 

But he didn’t ask. Instead, he pointed at the empty spot next to her. “Would you mind if I sat here? I’m waiting for someone.” His eyes crinkled again at her hesitation. “I don’t bite. Promise.”

“That’s what they all say,” she pointed out, and he laughed.  

“Can I ask you to take a leap of faith, then?”

She studied him. He had been tall once, broad. But his shoulders were stooped now, his back bent. His hands shook with age in along with the cold, and he leaned rather heavily on his cane. 

“Alright,” she said at last. She slid over to make room for him. 

“Thanks,” said Ben. He sank down onto the bench gratefully. She nodded, watching as he propped his walking stick against the curved metal armrest, set a small bundle onto his lap, then sat back and closed his eyes. 

His breathing soon grew soft and steady, and she thought he might’ve fallen asleep, so she went back to staring out at the pond. Then he spoke.

“Cold night, isn’t it?” he asked, opening his eyes again.

“Mmm.”  

“Real snow weather.”

She blinked. “Snow?” she said uncertainly.

He chuckled. “I know it’s not in the forecast, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we got some over the next few days. High time, too. Only a few days till New Year’s.”

She glanced over sideways at her seatmate. Was he senile? Did he really think it was December? Maybe the cold had confused him, she thought. Then she noticed the heavy parka he wore, the red woolen scarf wrapped around his neck. Definitely senile, she decided.

Not wanting to be rude, she kept quiet as the man continued, “I’ll bet Nicky will get good use out of the new sled I got him.” 

“Who’s Nicky?”

For the briefest moment, his eyes seemed to dim, and his smile faltered. Then it was back, and his eyes crinkled once more.

“Nicky’s my grandson. He’s almost six years old,” he added proudly. 

 “Do you see Nicky a lot?”

“Not really,” he confessed. “Not as much as I’d like to, anyway.” 

“That must be hard,” she said sympathetically. 

He sighed. “It is, sometimes,” he agreed. Then he brightened. “I’ll see him tonight, though. And for the rest of the week. I’m staying with his family for the holidays,” he explained. “We’ve been there since yesterday.”  His cheeks were rosy with cold and excitement, making him look like an overgrown schoolboy in a way that was oddly endearing. She smiled. 

“Did you plan any activities to do together?” she asked.

He laughed. “Nicky made me promise to have a snowball fight with him. So there’s that.” He shifted on the bench with a wince. “On the other hand, if I sit on this bench much longer, I’ll probably be too stiff for anything. I suppose I can always be the snowman,” he joked.

“Maybe you should go, then,” she suggested, hunching her shoulders against the cold. “Your family’s probably waiting for you.”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

Then she remembered. “You said you’re waiting for someone?” 

“My wife. I can’t leave without her.”

“Is she running late?”

He smiled again, but his eyes didn’t crinkle this time. “Not late. Just lost.”

“Maybe you should call her.”

He chuckled. “She never believed in cell phones. Used to say cells were for prisoners.” 

She smiled, because that sounded like something she would say, and she had a feeling that she would like this woman, if she met her. Then she frowned, wondering at the family of this nameless old woman, who allowed her to wander outside without supervision. And in the middle of winter, too…No, not winter, she corrected herself. April. She’d gotten so enthralled in the man’s story, she’d forgotten that he was slightly touched in the head. 

Still, touched or not, he surely had a family who was worried sick about him. 

“Don’t worry,” the man reassured her. “It’s not the first time she’s gotten lost. It’s happened before. But she’ll find her way. She always does.”

It was dark now, save for the light coming from a single street lamp. Her fingers were starting to go numb.

She should go home. It wasn’t any of her business. It really wasn’t. But… 

“I’ll stay with you until she gets here,” she said. 

He stared at her, and she wondered if she’d overstepped. 

But he didn’t seem to be upset. On the contrary, he looked rather touched.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’d appreciate that.”

She laughed to herself. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel this…this…this desire, this need, to take care of this old man she didn’t know? What did she care if he wanted to sit here all night, alone in the park? Why did it matter?

“Aren’t you cold?” the man asked suddenly, eyeing her thin cardigan. Ben. His name was Ben, she reminded herself. He has a name. He has a family. 

She shrugged. “I’m alright.”

“You’re shivering,” he said, looking concerned. “Here.” He took the dark furry bundle from his lap and held it out to her. It was a woman’s poncho, she realized. “Would you like to use this until Grace gets here?”

“I-”

“Go on,” he urged. “You’ll catch your death of cold in that sweater. Take it. It’s not real fur,” he added. “No animals were harmed in the making of this poncho. You have my word.”

She took it, not sure how to say no, and pulled it over her head. It was ridiculously comfortable, and warm, too. It was only then that she realized how cold she’d really been.

He smiled as she slipped her arms through the sides. “It suits you.”

“It’s lovely.”

“Grace’s favorite. I brought it with me in case she was cold.”

“Grace is lucky to someone so considerate.” 

“I’m lucky to have someone like Grace.” 

“What’s she like?” she asked, curious.

“Smart. Kind. Funny. Terrible dancer,” he added with a chuckle. “Always stepping on my feet. And always bumping into things. I used to tease her, saying they gave her the wrong name. Brave,” he went on. “Never afraid to do what she thinks is right.”

“Pretty?”

“Beautiful,” he corrected. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “You’d do anything for her.”

“Anything,” he agreed, gazing steadily at her. “Anything.” 

She flushed, but didn’t look away. Her heart skipped a beat as he took her hand, and she struggled to sift through the murky mess of thoughts in her brain.

“Grace is lost?” 

“She is,” he confirmed. “But she’ll find her way back. I know she will.”

“How do you know?” she asked, and she realized she was crying. “How do you know she’ll come back?”

“Because she always does.” he said firmly. “She always comes back. Always.” 

“How did you know I don’t like animal fur?” she asked, voice shaking. “I didn’t tell you that, did I?”

He smiled. “You did,” he said, running his thumb gently over her hand. “A long time ago.”

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t have to. I didn’t forget.” His thumb brushed the gold band on her finger. Her wedding band.

“Ben.” He looked at her. 

“We need to go home,” she said. “We need to go home. Nicky’s waiting for us.”

-Chaya Nachum