Page 29 of One More Time

Beyond the haze, she heard the very first cries of her baby girl, and that gave her all the hope she needed to believe that, as a family, they would make it through anything and everything life might throw their way.

A nurse placed their baby against Grace’s chest and with her tiny fingers wrapped around Charlie’s pinkie, the little bundle found her mother’s gaze with eyes that matched the blue of her father’s. ‘Hello there, little one. It’s so nice to finally meet you.’ In that second, Grace felt more love than she’d ever thought possible. And that’s when their little girl’s name came to her. ‘I want to call her Hope. Do you like that, Charlie?’ She glanced up and was overcome with emotion when she saw the look of adoration planted on his face.

‘Hope.’ The name rolling off his tongue, he pondered this as he tenderly held the baby’s tiny hand, then he smiled. ‘I think it’s absolutely perfect.’ He kissed Grace’s forehead, then Hope’s. ‘I’m a very lucky man, having two girls to love now.’

Grace’s heart swelled to bursting. All her worries about the future dissipated. In this moment, her universe consisted of her, Hope and Charlie.

It’s over, I’ve done it. All will be well now.

CHAPTER

9

1980

It took a few years for Grace’s rose-coloured glasses to fall off, and her unbridled optimism to all but disappear…

The new day was hinting at its arrival with the rising sun radiating a soft-hued glow into the dawn sky when Grace woke to discover Charlie had fallen asleep on the couch. Again.

Twenty minutes later, clad in her robes and slippers, she was a woman on a mission, storming from the shed, three half-empty bottles of whisky she’d found hidden behind some boxes of old magazines in her arms. Emptying the bottles down the kitchen sink, she cursed every single drop before tossing the empty bottles into the garbage bin, the last one shattering on impact. With disappointment and rage stealing her ability to think straight, she slammed her hands onto the bench, taking a few tortured breaths. What more did she have to do to get Charlie to see the harsh reality of what his drinking was doing to them? Was he even going to the AA meetings? What else was he lying about?

Maybe I should do it. Maybe I should leave him …

Squeezing her eyes shut against the burning threat of tears, she shook her head against the thought. Walking away from the man who knew all aspects of her heart would be the hardest thing she’d ever have to do, but she’d cried so much, begged so much, fought so much for them, for him, for her, for their baby girl’s sake. She was mentally and emotionally exhausted. A part of her wanted to run away from Charlie and his debilitating nightmares. The niggling thought that he couldn’t shake the night terrors because he’d never got closure in Vietnam taunted her every damn day. He’d given up military life for her. He’d given up going back to save Joey Baker for her. Was she now paying the price for those sacrifices? If so, how could they ever move past this?

Maybe our marriage was doomed from the get-go.

Once again, she contemplated telling him to go back to the army; let him return to Vietnam and look for Joey. But then she’d spend her days worrying he’d never return to her. A rush of overwhelming panic came over her. She was damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t.

She needed to talk to her mum before she made any rash decisions. Looking to the clock above the stove, she quickly worked out the time difference. They might still be up. Plucking the cordless phone from the holding dock, she dialled her parents’ UK number, hoping to god one of them picked up at the other end.

In three rings, Edith’s comforting voice travelled across the oceans. ‘Denver residence, Edith speaking.’

‘Hey, Mum,’ Grace said with a surge of relief.

‘Grace, oh darling, how are you?’ The phone line crackled.

‘Not great.’ Grace looked over her shoulder to make sure no ears were listening. ‘Charlie has slept on the couch again, and I just found booze in his shed.’ She sniffed back a sob. ‘I thought he’d stopped, Mum.’

‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,’ Edith sighed. ‘Do you want me to get your father to call Charlie, and have a man-to-man chat?’

Pulling a dining chair out, Grace sat. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mum.’

‘Okay, well, if you change your mind, I know your father would be more than happy to. In fact, it’s taking me a heck of a lot of persuading to stop him from doing so.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Grace could only imagine how hard her father had been biting his tongue. ‘I miss you and Dad so much.’ Grace plucked a tissue from a box on the side table and dabbed her tears. ‘I wish you didn’t live so far away. I could really do with one of your hugs right now.’

‘Aw, I know, sweetheart. We miss you too.’ Edith’s voice was filled with tenderness. ‘We’ll be home for Christmas, though, and I can hug you nice and tight, so hold onto that thought through this tough time, and pray for guidance too, won’t you?’

‘Yes, I will. I have been.’ Grace curled a strand of hair around her finger and lowered her voice. ‘I honestly don’t know how Charlie and I are going to make it through this, Mum.’ She made sure to keep her voice low as the last thing she wanted was for Charlie to overhear. ‘I’m scared I’m going to fall out of love with him if he can’t find a way to quit drinking.’

‘Alcohol is the root of all evil, in my opinion,’ Edith tutted. ‘But remember, Grace, he is your husband, and you did say for better or for worse, as hard as that might sometimes prove to be.’

‘I know, Mum, and I remind myself often, but there has to be a cut-off point.’

‘I know, love.’ Edith sighed, like she understood; like she’d been there too. ‘I suppose the best advice I can give you is that in a marriage, you have to fall in love with a person again and again, because we are all human and we all make mistakes, sometimes ones that will cause heartbreak to those who we hold most precious.’

Grace took a moment to let this advice sink in. She was about to respond when footsteps approached down the hallway and Charlie entered the kitchen, looking worse for wear.