1.2 - Falling from Grace

Or…maybe it wasn’t. He was gone the following morning. Illdrid took a walk to the park to clear her mind, wondering why he had left without saying goodbye. And that’s when she saw him, just standing in a clearing alone. “Why did you leave so suddenly?” she asked. She tried to keep the accusatory tone from entering her voice, but knew she was unsuccessful when she saw the cloud of irritation pass across his face.

“I’m actually late for a meeting,” he replied, eyebrow raised. “We can get together later, if you’d like.” His voice held intimate suggestions for how that get together might go.

Illdrid smiled and decided she had overreacted. She turned to leave, but not before seeing her next door neighbor Lydia Lancaster with her young son. Illdrid decided now was a perfect time to get better acquainted with her neighbor.

“Hey, Lydia! It’s Illdrid, your neighbor. I know we haven’t formally met, but I just wanted to come over and say hi and tell you that your son is just absolutely adorable!”

Lydia smiled politely. “Hello there Illdrid. I’m just here to meet little Ezra’s daddy. He’s been so busy with work, he finally promised us some family time!”

Illdrid was about to inquire about the identity of Ezra’s father when Michael frantically ran over.  Ezra, who had until that very moment been busy eating grass, looked up at the newcomer and shouted “Daddy!”

Illdrid turned scarlet, and unable to contain herself, started shouting at Michael about how she had no interest in being “the other woman.”

She stormed off, grabbed her cell phone and dialed the number of the local winery. “Hello. Yes. I just wanted to make sure you’re open. I need to come buy so many wines.” In the background, she could hear Lydia crying to Michael about how they were supposed to get married some day.

At the winery, Illdrid was escorted to the cellar where all the best wine was kept. “Rough day?” the owner asked.

Illdrid nodded, barely able to contain her tears.

“

Don’t worry. We’ll get you all fixed up!” he said after they introduced themselves. He was Grant Gillespie, owner of the town’s only winery. He held out a glass of wine for her to sample. One glass turned into two turned into four and soon she was pouring her heart out. About her random encounter and how she got her hopes up and thought maybe he had been the one.

“The first one is never THE one,” Grant said as he wrapped his arms around her. She was soft and warm. The hug turned to a kiss and he led her upstairs.

He laid her on the bed and drank from her lips. “Wait here,” he instructed when she stripped down to her undergarments. Her brain felt cloudy and muddled. Everything was spinning.  She knew she shouldn’t be there, doing this. But before she could get up and stumble home, Grant returned and plastered her with kisses. They made love and she called him Michael.