Free Healing Grace by Lisa J. Lickel

to the late afternoon warmth. Grace’s flowerbed rioted around the circle she had dug, dark purple alyssum bordering the taller mix of annuals. The couple of things he recognized, cosmos and statis, swayed in the breeze.
    Grace dropped by his side after a moment, gasping for breath and leaving Eddy to frolic after the cat who had left a roly-poly jumble of kittens in the playhouse. No worries there—it was now spick and span with floorboards safely repaired. Eddy’s zeal to reclaim his pet kept them wholly occupied during most of his days spent with her and filled his supper and bedtime chatter.
    “Weather’s changing again,” Ted said and nodded to her. “We get a lot of snow in the winter—lake effect we call it. It’s strange to think about snow so early but, in case you’re worried, Randy usually has the place plowed. We’ll work something out to keep your driveway cleared.”
    Grace studied her fingers, knit together on her lap. She ducked her head and looked at him out of the corner of her eye in a way that made his toes curl. “I didn’t know that. It’s, um, well, nice, to think that far ahead.”
    As he gazed around the yard it occurred to him that the holiday season approached, too, along with the snow. He was able to be detached at this point, as if Christmas was something he could choose to have happen or not as he saw fit. Past Christmases had been dull for Eddy with only him and Randy for company, although the poor kid didn’t really know the difference. This year, though, kids in school were bound to compare.
    “What’s ‘lake effect’?” Grace asked, bringing him back to the present.
    Ted stretched his legs out straight and crossed his ankles. “Lake effect snow storms happen because we live so close to Lake Michigan. The air picks up extra moisture from the lake and dumps it on us. Happens with fog and rain some, too.”
    “I can hardly start thinking about next month, let alone winter. Isn’t there a fall in there, somewhere? The weather’s not quite as changeable as home.”
    Ted noticed her use of home , but he didn’t think she was aware of it. Unless she wanted to relay some subtle message, like she wasn’t planning on experiencing a Michigan winter. Maybe he’d never learn to listen right to a woman.
    “It’s not as hot, either,” she was saying now. “The breeze is nice here. Does it trouble you, to feel the change in the weather like that—physically, I mean?” She tucked the skirt underneath her and clasped her knees with her arms. He envied her comfortable suppleness.
    “Not so much anymore.” He flexed his leg, bending the knee and swiveling it from his hip. “It seems to be better these days. It’s good to be able to walk around easier. Swimming has helped quite a lot.” He watched his son cavorting in the yard.
    “Do you,” Grace asked, emphasis on the you , “need to take Eddy shopping, or anything, for school? Kindergarten starts in two weeks.”
    Ted slid his glaze back over to her, groaning inwardly. Shopping. With a five-year-old. He had no idea what to do. “Um, I haven’t done this before…so I thought we’d look through his clothes later this weekend.” Her legs had taken on a great bronzy tan over the summer. What he wouldn’t give to slide his hands down her smooth calves to her ankles.
    Bad Dad!
    Lame!
    “I brought the supplies list from Miss Jones, his teacher,” he said helpfully, looking up at her. Crayons and folders he could do. He frowned at her stillness. She’d turned into a statue. Why? “You brought it up.”
    She took a breath. “Well, I never did this before, either,” she said. “What makes people think any woman just knows what to do with kids? It’s one thing to let Eddy ramble all over my house and to feed him and tell him not to stick his hand inside the wasp nest and read stories to him—” She thrust herself to her feet and paced two tight circles beside him.
    “I’m sorry. I’m sure there’s plenty of help