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         As Grace got off I-75 just east of Lexington, KY, her muscles tensed up. She began to notice a pain in her neck. No matter; she just hoped her grandparents had not reached town today. Things began to flood back in her memory: the days she was left alone sitting in the car while Mom would cry herself out to psychologists; the times her mother had married, both of them very abusive, and now, the aunts, uncles and cousins who left her alone until she was found dead of a heart attack six hours after a morning phone call, and only when another phone call was made to check on how she had handled herself. (Of course, in her later years, she never wanted to touch another man as long as she lived.)

            And now, with all this in her past, she had to go back up to Nicholasville for a sudden funeral for her great-grandmother. Nobody was going to welcome her, since her mother seemed to be on the outside of the family. She liked to talk, but they kept to themselves and only her mother's half-sister who did not do anything with them would talk to her. What was she to do? She would go to the funeral, maybe eat at someone's home if the family invited her, or Italian if not, and go back down to Washington, D.C. forever. Her plan was set. No more rejection from her family - Kentucky looked best in the rearview mirror as far as she was concerned!

            As she pulled into the funeral home, her eyes scanned to see if anybody would come over and say hello. Well, somebody actually did. There, in the crowd, was Aunt Vickie Wells, the aunt on her mother's side. She went over, and Aunt Vickie hugged her.

            They looked over the pictures together, scanning for any sign, any shred of evidence that Grace and her mother knew she existed, but there was none. Oh, well, at least she could go back down to Washington, D.C. when the day was done.

            They sat down. There were several gospel hymns sung, a life affirmation given as a testimony to her life, and passages of Bible Scripture that was her favorite all time themes of life read. Then, they paid their last respects. Grace, stiff and unemotional as she was around her family, as her time to pay her last respects came, she could hold it in no longer.

            "Grandma," she whispered, "I'll always love you, even though you're the only one in this family that loved me, and loved my mother."

            She turned to the side, and Aunt Vickie's face was white. So was Grandma Janie Lynn's. They had heard.

 

*****

 

            Back at her Great Aunt Melda's place, there was much discussion and looks among the family, as usual, but this time it took on a different tone. When people looked at Grace this time, they had sad looks. Many of them tried to offer her foods and drinks, but it seemed a little trivial to Grace. What could anyone have said that had any meaning, now that she had let out the biggest skeleton in her closet? Was this contrition, or was it dramatization?

            Grandma Janie Lynn took her to one side. There were tears in her eyes.

            "Now, Gracie, baby, you need to know that I was never taught how to be a woman who showed any feelings, but I want you to know that I love you. I also loved your mother. All those thoughts on her image were only to help her along."

            "But you never said that! All she ever heard was how wrong and how rotten she ever was!"

            "I only wanted to help. There was so much wrong in your mother's life that I wanted to help her with."

            "My God, Grandma, did she ever do anything right?"

            "Yes, honey. She raised you, and she was faithful to the end. It was also good that she left that evil man who had been beating the both of you. I am also happy she came home."

            "I thought you never saw anything to love in us."

            "No, baby, there's no need to worry about that now. She also adopted you from some very nice people out in Arkansas."

            "Adopted?"

            Aunt Vickie chimed in. "Honey, you want to know a secret?"

            "What kind of shit did my mother do this time?"

            "Nothing wrong about your mother, honey. It's that she adopted you from a set of people whose lives were destroyed in a tornado. Your birth mother was killed, but your father had remained in a coma for twenty years."

            "He did?"

            "Yes, honey. He has sent me this letter to tell you he will meet up with you soon."

            "Oh. Okay." She grabbed the letter.

            "You want to stay over at my place so you can sort all this out?"

            "I was planning to drive early to get back home, but I think I can."

            "Well, Grace, looks like I let the cat out of the bag this time."

            "Huh?"

            "Sorry. I always thought your mother talked too much, but I guess she gets it from us Janies. Your grandmother always talked too much, too, just like us."

 

*****

 

            That night, close by, Grace read the letter she got from this mysterious man.

 

 

                                                                                                                        April 4, 1989

            Dear Grace,

 

            If you are reading this letter, your adoptive family has told you about me. I have always wondered how you are, and when you would discover this. My calculations have predicted early in April 2007. I have been trained to track the stars for a living. If you are curious, all you have to do is go to the bank on Meade Place and receive the set of jewelry I have deposited for you. I look forward to seeing you someday, and I hope I can speak to you freely, if you want to.

 

                                                                                                                        With Love,

                                                                                                                        Your Father

                                                                                                            (Michael Stonehenge)

 

 

            Michael Stonehenge? The man who tried to alert her to the drugged-out maniac in her car? She should not have doubted him, but she also knew where to go for help, too. Someday, she would find that man and thank him.