That’s why when I read her letter, I lose myself in a flood of tears. She was sick and I had no idea. She had passed and no one had told me. Grief and guilt consume me as waves of sobs burst from my lips. I didn’t know. She was sick, she was hurting and I didn’t know. I had missed so many of her calls over the past couple of years, eventually they stopped coming. Then I had received one a few weeks ago and I meant to call her back. A fresh wave sweeps over me threatening to take me under. 

I don’t know how long I end up sitting there, holding on to my knees as tears pour out of me. Eventually, when they start to slow I bring myself to read the letter again. My heart aches just seeing her hand writing, missing her so much. 

My sweet Gracie, 

Reading this means I’ve gone to be with the Lord and I’m at peace. I know you’ll be sad and you should take your time to grieve but know my dear, that I am in a better place. If they haven’t already, my lawyer, Mr. Bakeman will be in touch regarding my will. I know we haven’t seen much of each other over the past few years but I have thought of you often and pray for you every day. You’re never far from my heart. That’s why making my will was always an easy decision. The Lord has blessed me greatly and my hope is that you will continue to steward His gifts well. 

All of my love, 
Aunt Grace

Grief consumes me yet again and I let it. Followed by guilt. I should have returned her calls. I should have made the time to visit her and Caney Creek just once more. Then my mind goes back to my last few times in Caney Creek and my heart hurts all over again. Trying to find any sort of distraction I check my phone. 

Turns out there have been a couple of calls from a Tennessee area code over the past week and I never answered them. I figured they were junk. With a shaky hand, I hit “call” on the number. 

I breathe in slowly, fighting back tears as the phone rings once. Then a slow exhale when it rings again. A single tear rolling down my cheek. I’m almost grateful when the call goes to voicemail. 

“Hello, Mr. Bakeman? This is Hannah Grace Havens, Grace Bowe’s great niece. I’m sorry I’ve missed your calls but you can reach me at this number and I hope I can talk to you soon. Thank you.” my voice starts to waver at the last new words but I keep it together long enough to end the call. 

The rest of my day is a blur of tears and memories of Caney Creek. 

Chapter Two 

Hannah – Summer Going Into Fifth Grade

The news that my father had left wasn’t a surprise, even as a soon-to-be ten year old. My parent’s marriage had always been rocky. He had left for a few days at a time, several times before. But when it happened this time, I knew it was permanent. Even before Mom was willing to admit it. 

It was a few weeks before school would be out for the summer and this year, it really didn’t hold the same level of excitement. Especially after my mom sat me down one afternoon to let me know I’d be spending the summer visiting my Great Aunt Grace in Tennessee. 

At the time, I threw a fit. It was the most kid-like thing I had done in a while. Not that I was looking forward to spending my summer inside our tiny, run down apartment while Mrs. Olson from next door checked on me a few times a week but at least my friends were here. I knew how to be on my own here. I didn’t want to spend who knows how many hours in a car driving from northern Minnesota to Tennessee. And I didn’t know this Great Aunt Grace. 

My mom let me throw my fit for a while, then tried to cheer me up by telling me stories from her childhood that included Great Aunt Grace. I had to admit, she did sound pretty fun. And apparently she had spent a few months here, helping my mom out after she had me. So I had technically met her. 

I fully came around to the idea when just days before, my mom had told me that I’d be flying to Tennessee, all on my own. As a kid, that was a big deal. I hadn’t been on a plane before. And not only was I going to take an airplane, I got to do it all by myself. 

The day came and any nerves about landing in a place where I knew nothing and no one aside from Great Aunt Grace, were pushed aside from the excitement of getting on a plane. My mom made me repeat the instructions to her several times as we drove to the airport thirty miles away. 

“I’ll follow the signs to security and follow all of the rules. Then I will find the signs that show which gate my flight is at. I’m looking for the one that goes to Cannonsville. If I can’t find it or get lost, I can always ask someone who works at the airport. They’ll have name tags on. Then once I land in Cannonsville, the flight attendant will walk me off the plane to find Great Aunt Grace. Then we’ll drive to Caney Creek.” I recite for the fourth time, my voice bored. 

That first plane ride is probably what inspired my love of travel. It was exhilarating. I felt alive. I felt free. Anything was possible in that moment. It took me a while to figure out it was Aunt Grace that purchased the plane tickets every summer. My mother could never have afforded it. We lost water more than once growing up because she struggled to keep up with the bills. 

The nerves kicked in once the plane landed in Cannonsville. Honestly, it didn’t look too different than northern Minnesota and that helped my almost ten year old brain. A flight attendant found me getting off the plane and walked me to the baggage claim where Aunt Grace was waiting with a sign that had my name on it, shining with glittery hearts and smiley faces. I loved it. 

Back then, Aunt Grace was in her fifties and still full of energy. On the drive to Caney Creek, we stopped for hamburgers and milkshakes. I got chocolate, she got cookies and cream, with extra whipped cream. So I asked for extra too. Cannonsville was a huge city compared to the small town I had lived in all my life. I was entranced by it. 

Caney Creek ended up being a small town just like my hometown. Even smaller actually. I remember when we drove through the downtown, I asked. “How many people even live here, Great Aunt Grace?” Crunching up my nose in distaste. 

She let out a soft laugh “A little over 500 but there will be plenty of friends for you to make. There’s lots to do and lots of stuff nearby. And you can just call me Aunt Grace, if you want, Dear. The whole thing is a mouthful.” 

Aunt Grace was funny. And you looking at her with her short, soft bob that curled in various layers, her meticulously done makeup, including a brick red lipstick (that she made sure to touch up post milkshake) and nicely pressed trousers with a silky looking sleeveless blouse, you’d think she’d be more uptight. More prim and proper. I didn’t expect her to be funny. But she was.

I remember the first time I saw the Inn. It was the largest house I had ever seen. A sprawling old blue Victorian house with a massive porch that wrapped around most of the exterior. Brightly colored flowers consumed the lower portion of the house and more hung in even spaces all along the porch. A long walkway led the way from a gravel parking lot up the stairs to the front door. It looked so nice, I remember thinking…I bet the queen of England would have stayed here. 

Inside, there were only wood floors. The main living room was painted in a pale dusty blue color from floor to ceiling. Assorted dark blue furniture filled the room – a few couches, sitting chairs anchored around a grand, dark wooden coffee table filled with books, magazines and butterscotch candies. It became a daily habit to take a butterscotch on the way outside after lunch each day. 

The dining room was painted a dark blue, almost navy. The dark wooden furniture continued in there with a variety of tables and chairs organized throughout the sprawling room. White lace table clothes covered them all and silver vases with fresh flowers sat atop each table.  In the corner, a long wooden counter displayed all sorts of silver serving wear and platters. 

Aunt Grace walked me around and showed me all of the bedrooms. They were all shades of white with blue accents, either the bedding, the wallpaper or the accents placed around the room. Then she got to my room. 

“Can I tell you a secret, Dear?” she asked. 

My eyes lit up, I nodded over and over while she let out a soft laugh. “Your room is my favorite in the whole house.” 

I gasped in excitement. In delight. She knew little Hannah needed something special, something of her own to feel special. 

She opened the door and I gasped again as a soft light butter yellow room came into view. Happy yellow flowers wove their way over the bedspread and the fluffiest looking pillows took up half the full sized bed. A blue gingham chair sat in the corner next to the window that overlooked some water. Next to that, a small bookshelf filled with books I’ve been wanting to read and then a white wooden dresser painted with the same flowers that were on the bedspread. It was magnificent. A single tear rolled down my cheek as my little brain processed that this whole, beautiful room was just for me. “I love it.” I whispered. 

Aunt Grace bent down to pull me into a long hug and I felt another tear slowly run down my cheek. I felt loved. 

The next few days were an adjustment but Aunt Grace made it all so much fun. Even when I had to help out with some chores around the Inn, like helping to set out breakfast, or clear plates. We made a game out of it. One night cleaning up dessert, fresh baked snickerdoodle cookies with ice cream we made ourselves, I was drying a spoon and I thought out loud. “You know, my middle name is Grace.” 

“I know, Dear. It made my heart so happy to hear that your parents decided to keep the family name alive. I always thought you looked like a Grace.” She nodded, smiling as she washed the plates.

“Can you call me Grace from now on?” I asked. 

She paused for a minute and I was worried she would say no. She sat down her dish towel and looked me in the eyes, smiling again. “How about Gracie?” she asked. 

I smiled. “I love it.” Then I quietly recited my new name over and over and over again as I helped to dry the rest of the dishes.   

One morning my second week there, I woke up to the sound of a voice outside my window. “Aw, man.” It sounded like a boy? 

I slid out of bed like a worm, worried the boy would see me and made my way to the window, peering around for any sign of someone. When the coast was clear I stood up and moved the curtain aside. There at the pond was a boy with light brown hair. I watched him for a minute trying to figure out what he was doing. Finally, I realized he was fishing. 

My eyes lit up. I had always wanted to go fishing but my parents never had time for it. Without thinking, I quickly changed into some shorts and a t-shirt and ran outside to find the boy. 

My excitement started to wane as I got closer, realizing I wasn’t actually invited to fish. I was about to turn back when I heard him again. “Hi, I’m Carter. What’s your name?” 

Carter. His name was Carter. “My name is Hannah, but you can call me Gracie.” I said, putting my hands on my hips in confidence. 

“Well that’s confusing but ok, Gracie.” His face showed his confusion but only briefly before he went back to working on his fishing pole. “You staying at the Inn? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” 

I noted that his voice sounded kind of funny. He said certain words like “fishing” weird. He left off the “g”. I liked it. Later, I’d know it to be a southern accent. Aunt Grace had one too but it was less pronounced than Carter’s. “Kinda. I’m staying there for the summer with my Aunt Grace.” 

“Miss Grace is your Aunt? How cool is that? She’s the best.” He looked up and the smile that was on his face captured that same warmth, the same brightness, the same amount of love as the first time I saw my room at the Inn. That smile could make anything better. 

“So why are you here?” I asked, sounding more accusatory than I meant. 

The smile re-appeared briefly before he went back to tying some fishing line on his pole. My heart felt brighter than the sun. “Miss Grace lets me fish here whenever I want. I try to come before my newspaper route because the fish aren’t too hungry after that. But sometimes I get lucky.” 

“You have a job?” Shock filling my voice. “How old are you?” 

“Ten. I had to get special permission to get my job. But I only work about an hour a day. I like getting the extra money.” He reached over to the navy and tan tackle box next to him and brought out a small styrofoam cup. “You scared of worms, Gracie?” 

I wanted to say no. I wanted to seem brave. But the truth was, I didn’t like any sort of creepy crawly thing. “It’s not that I’m scared…” my voice was uncertain, “ I just don’t like them.” 

“It’s ok to be scared of them. I think they’re cool. So I can deal with all of the worms for you. And I won’t even be mean and wiggle them in your face to scare you.” He said, nodding like he was proud of himself for being a gentleman. And let me tell you, it worked for my little heart. 

“How old are you?” He asked, taking a worm out. I watched as it squirmed in his fingers and grimaced. “I’ll be ten on July second.” 

“That’s so soon!” He was so excited, you’d think it was his own birthday. “You going to have a party?” 

I hadn’t thought about it until now. Sadness washed over me as I realized I wouldn’t be celebrating my birthday with my friends this year. And not that I usually got a ton of presents that I’d miss out on but Mom usually made sure I at least had a cake. Did Aunt Grace know my birthday was coming up? I looked away to hide the sadness on my face “Uh, I don’t know.” 

“Well I’ll come to your party.” He smiled and the sadness evaporated.