Over the next couple of weeks, they talked about her time with the Smiths. She told Carolyn about Mike, the beating, and Rose’s cancer. The pain of losing Rose was still fresh, and it was impossible to talk about her without crying.
As was customary by now, Carolyn waited patiently while Grace cried, and in fact encouraged her to do so whenever she felt the need. Tears are healing, she’d said, which was a good thing because she’d been doing an awful lot of it lately. Sometimes she knew what she was crying for, and other times she just cried. But somehow she always felt better afterward.
She was doing better in school, too—had gotten her GPA back up to a perfect 4.0—and was getting along better with the girls at the group home. Because she was close to aging out of the system—she’d be eighteen in two weeks—she would not be transferred to another foster home before she graduated.
“Did you ever tell anyone about what Mike did to you?” Carolyn asked.
“No. I didn’t want to go back to the group home. I cared too much about Rose, and I felt like I could protect her more if I were there because I would rather he hurt me than her. She already had cancer at that point.”
They talked more about Rose and how profoundly she had impacted Grace’s life, and they talked about the abuse. “I tried to be everything they needed me to be, but I guess my best wasn’t good enough.”
“Grace, Mike’s anger issues had nothing to do with you, or you being good enough. They were his issues that he took out on the women in his life because you were smaller and physically weaker than him. He was lucky to have you in his life to care for his wife the way you did.”
Grace shrugged. “I guess so. I’m just tired of it all. I want my freedom. I want to decide where I live and what I do, and who I choose to let into my life.”
“I understand, and I don’t blame you one bit. I want you to know that I admire you. Many people would not have been able to survive all you’ve gone through. I know you carry a lot of scars from all that’s happened, but I still think you’re a remarkable young woman.”
Grace smiled. It was a genuine smile. The first one she’d had in a while. “Thank you.”
They spent the rest of the session talking about the dream that followed Mike’s beating, where Grace was the Irish girl, Molly Ann Quinn.
“Have you thought about what it might mean? Why the name June Crandall keeps coming up?”
“Yes, and I know it means something, but I don’t know what. Do you?”
“No, but in every dream, June is your protector. Perhaps each character represents a different aspect of your psyche—you know, all the things that have been absent from your life.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the love of a mother, a best friend, even the love of a man.”
She had a best friend, but the love of a man? No way. “Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”
“You never know, Grace. Someday you might find the right one, and that love might even help heal you.”
Grace smirked. She had no intention of falling in love—ever—but she didn’t want to argue the point with her.
Carolyn wasn’t able to see Grace for a couple of weeks. They met again on May 21st, Grace’s eighteenth birthday. When Grace walked into the office, there was a pile of gifts with big shiny bows sitting on the sofa.
Grace saw the gifts and turned to Carolyn. “Are those for me?” she asked, wide-eyed.
Carolyn nodded.
She couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t received a gift since she’d lived with the Smiths.
“Well, go ahead and open them.”
Grace’s face lit with excitement, and she tore into the packages. Carolyn gave her a set of drawing pencils, some paints and brushes for her to try her hand at painting, and several sketchbooks to practice on.
“Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness.” She gave Carolyn a hug. “It means a lot.”
They shared the little cake Carolyn had brought in and Grace settled into her usual corner of the loveseat. She removed a stack of envelopes, bound together by a rubber band, and placed them on the table beside the sofa.
“What have we here?” Carolyn pointed to the envelopes.
“I brought the replies from all the schools I applied to. I’ve been staring at them for a few weeks now, afraid to open them. I thought I could do it here.”
“Absolutely!” Carolyn said. “Shall we do it now?”
Staring at the envelopes, Grace chewed her lip. “Um, okay. Yeah. Let’s do it.” She picked up the stack of mail and placed it on her lap.
“What’s your number one pick? What are you hoping to study?”
“I’ve always wanted to go to NYU. I want to study journalism, and perhaps art. Maybe a double major.”
Carolyn’s eyebrows rose and she nodded approvingly. “That’s impressive. So, what’s your second pick, if NYU doesn’t work out?”
“Well, I applied to Columbia and Rutgers, Boston College—to be closer to Maggie—and a couple of schools out West. Any of those would be fine, but I’d really prefer to stay in New York.”
Grace looked at the pile on her lap. “Where should I start?”
“Your choice, but if it were me, I’d save my top pick for last.”
Grace grinned. “My thinking exactly.” She ripped open the letters from UCLA and the University of California at Berkeley and frowned. “Rejections.”
She opened the letter from Columbia and frowned again. “Another rejection.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Carolyn said. “Rumor has it the skinny envelopes are rejections, and the big ones are acceptances. If rumor proves true, you’ve got plenty of good news to come.”
Grace’s face brightened and she tore into the envelopes from Rutgers and Boston College. “You’re right! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it!” Both contained acceptance letters with full-ride scholarships.
One more to go. She peeled back the flap of the remaining envelope slowly. Carolyn, perched on the edge of her seat, pleaded with her eyes for Grace to hurry up. Grace teased her a little more before Carolyn said, “Oh for the love of God, would you open it already?”
Grace laughed and pulled the contents from the envelope. As she read, tears filled her eyes and Carolyn gasped. Grace looked up and her smile filled the room. “I’m in.”
“Shut up!” Carolyn leapt out of her chair in excitement as the sound of their laughter filled the room.
It felt good to laugh. “Thank you for doing this with me,” Grace said. “I’m really glad you were here for me.” It was easy to like Carolyn. It felt safe to like her, too, because she knew going into it that their relationship was temporary and there was no expectation placed on her. She could share as much or as little of herself as she wanted, and it was okay. There were no wrong answers.
“Congratulations, Grace. You should be very proud of yourself. NYU is a tough school to get into. I’m just glad they saw what I see in you. You’re a woman of strength, a woman of courage. Both are qualities that will take you far in life. I know we still have more time together after today, but I think this is a good time to impart some words of wisdom that you can take with you into the next chapter of your life.”
Carolyn went on. “Every experience you have in life makes you who you are, and there is something to be learned from each of those experiences. Sometimes it’s hard to see the good in a bad situation, but if you look hard enough, the lesson is there. It will help you grow and it will make you a better person. Unfortunately, some lessons are learned the hard way, but they’re lessons all the same.
“I guess what I’m saying is that life isn’t always fair. It’s how we choose to respond to the challenges that life throws at us that defines us, and we always have a choice about that. Sometimes you have to stand up and fight for something. Other times, the path of least resistance is the best road. As you move toward independence and building a new life for yourself, I hope you’ll remember that.”
“Thank you,” Grace said. Carolyn had helped her understand that she was not responsible for the things that had happened to her, and believing that made her feel better. But still, two indisputable facts remained. One, people did bad things. Two, people left. And soon it would be her responsibility, and hers alone, to make sure those two things never happened to her again.
In their last session together, Carolyn asked Grace whether she’d had any more of her dreams after the incident with Mike.
“Only one. On the day Rose was buried. But this one was different.”
“Different how?” Carolyn asked.
Grace considered the question, not exactly sure how to explain it. “Normally I can see everything from only one person’s point of view, you know, like I’m only one person and can know only their thoughts. But this time I could hear the thoughts of both June and Bill.”
“I see. And who was Bill?”
“I was, I guess. I’m not sure. I started out as Bill, and then I was June. I know that they were very much in love and were expecting their first child. But then, when the United States got involved in World War I, Bill felt it was his duty to enlist in the Army and do his part. June was devastated with his decision, but he went anyway.
“June gave birth to me, and then died of complications from childbirth at the exact moment that an explosion killed Bill.
“Oh my God.” A wave of horror washed through Grace. “I watched my mother and father die.”
At her words, realization struck like midnight. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before.
“I know who June Crandall is.” She rose from the loveseat.
“She’s my mother.”