The Path

Gracelyn stood at the bottom of the hill and looked up the winding path to where the party wore on. And on and on, she thought wearily. One guest looking to make polite conversation had asked her how she was related to the event. Gracelyn had to embarrassingly choke out that she was the bride. 

She could see her fiancé Finn’s dark hair, a golden halo forming on its crest in the tiny twinkling lights. She told herself he was worth it, worth all the glad handing and fake smiles, worth all the corporate jockeying and office politics. Because when they were together, just the two of them, just Finn and Gracelyn, instead of ambitious social climber and heiress, they were a perfect match. But out here, in the real world, Gracelyn felt a twinge of doubt in the pit of her stomach, or maybe that was just the result of the escargot and champagne she had boldly combined.

The party had been her idea she reminded herself - an outdoor wedding shower at her grandfather’s once grand lake home. As a little girl she had sat in her second-floor bedroom, looking out the window at all of the city folks, up to the lake for a weekend party. She would dance around her bedroom in her nightgown, Mr. Bear her only partner. Together they would sway to the music and fall asleep to the sounds of clinking glasses and tipsy laughter.

But this was not the evening she had envisioned. The party had been hijacked without permission and spun completely out of her control. She feared her life was headed in the same direction. But maybe there was another choice. She felt the flicker of her grandfather’s secret tickle to back of her brain.

Back when she was Gracie, instead of Gracelyn Gold, heiress and future wife of the youngest senior partner of The Firm, capital T, capital F, the stone path down to the lake was not yet finished. Now the stones, haphazardly placed, started at the dock’s edge, and worked their way up, up, up until they reached the patio. Her grandfather had collected the pavers from countries all over the world. The path was a million miles of souvenirs, a practical installation of art and memories. And more. It was so much more. At least, if the secrets were to be believed… and Gracelyn had no reason good enough to doubt her grandfather.

The sun slipped below the waterline. Its warmth leached away and was replaced with a shiver that ran the length of Gracelyn’s body. She wondered if it was a coincidence or something more.

What if the secret was true? What if she stepped back onto the path and was whisked away to the location her beloved patriarch had first found the stone? India, Peru, Vamp… hell, even Siberia sounded better than the wasteland of humanity that waited for her to open gifts at the top of the hill. Her mind recreated a vision of the painstakingly drawn image she had found in the journal her grandfather willed her. The geometric shapes of the flat stones were drawn to scale with a label neatly printed inside each one. Croatia, 1995. Istanbul, 1964. London, 1983.

In that moment she wished, desperately, that he were here. She wanted him to be the one to walk her down the aisle, to be here for the celebration of the biggest moment of her life. She thought about that phrase. The biggest moment of her life. Did she really want marrying Finn Greystone to be the biggest moment of her life? Instinctively she knew that no decision she ever made after tomorrow would truly be her own. While a small part of her vibrated with excitement at the things she and her new husband could to together, a larger part seemed to shudder at the invisible cage she was willingly walking into. Again, she wished her grandfather were here to talk her through, to offer his worldly wisdom, his calm analysis, his magical insight, his warm hug.

Gracelyn turned her back to the path and the party and looked out across the water of the lake. The moon danced on the rippling surface and cast a cool glow over the trees covering the shoreline of the Northern Wisconsin landscape. In the dark, the images of the modern watercrafts and sleekly remodeled home fronts were blurred. Their edges erased, they looked like the buildings of Gracelyn’s childhood. She wished there was a stone that would take her back to those days. What do I want? she asked herself, knowing the answer to that single question would help her decide the path to choose for her life. She knew Finn’s eyes would be searching for her soon. The moment of peace she requested was almost gone.

The music changed, drifted down the hill, and nagged at her. It was their song, hers and Finn’s. She took a deep breath, and began to make her way up the hill, the blood in her feet pulsing with every step. Halfway up the hill her eyes locked with her fiancé’s, and a smile spread across his face. His attention was pulled away a moment later, a party goer, a business partner, his mother, it didn’t matter who. In an instant she was alone, a place both familiar and haunting.

In a single moment she decided. She wasn’t a selfish person, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being married to someone who didn’t put her first, at least some of the time. She didn’t want to play second string in her own life. She wanted great things... adventure, unforgettable moments, a life that was worthy of legacy her grandfather left behind. She would not waste it.

Gracelyn stopped walking and looked up to the window that held a dozen summers worth of dreams. She looked once more for Finn, but he was gone, it’s okay, because so was she. Gracelyn took a deep breath and stepped firmly on the stone in front of her. She whispered a secret string of ancient words and vanished into the night air.