Grace in Wonderland - Chapter 108

108. Amazing Grace

Grace Gurton was a child born with misfortune wrapped around her like an umbilical cord.

When Grace came into the world, people called her a “posthumous child.” It was a title that combined a modicum of pity and an abundance of disregard for a girl who had lost her father before she was even born.

Grace’s mother’s name was Annabel Gurton. Once a lady of an Ingrintian viscount’s family, she fell to a status lower than that of a commoner. This was because Annabel had fallen in love with a married man, bore his child, and ended up a fugitive.

Not long after Annabel and her husband Lewis came to terms with their harsh reality, they left the island of Brighton. They headed for Aire, a secluded island nation to the west of Brighton. It was a place known as the end of the continent—the wilderness of the wilderness.

In Galway, the remotest part of that wilderness, known for its endlessly sprawling coastal cliffs facing the Atlantic, Grace was born. The cliffs, like books tightly packed on a library shelf or long colonnades in a temple, stretched layer upon layer, facing the sea.

The people of Aire called Galway “the Giant’s Garden.” This was because they believed a long-ago giant had built the cliffs as walls to protect their precious land from the harsh sea.

Perhaps because it was an isolated area surrounded by walls, Galway was hostile to outsiders. And not just any outsiders, but especially those speaking with an Ingrintian accent. Grace’s mother was one such outsider.

Moreover, an Ingrintian-speaking stranger who had lost her husband and was raising a newborn alone was even more ostracized. Grace, her daughter, was no exception to the negative stares.

This was because Grace was a baby with mismatched eyes.

On a dawn when a storm came raging from the open sea, battering the cliffs like gates, Annabel gave birth to Grace. After a grueling twenty-six-hour labor, the midwife who delivered Grace was so shocked by the baby’s mismatched eyes that she dropped the newborn onto the bed in fright.

It is rare to see someone with differently colored eyes. This is true in Ingrint and Aire alike. The difference is that in Ingrint, people whisper about rare traits behind closed doors, while in Aire, they openly talk about them to one’s face.

Standards are dual and ambiguous. A cat’s unusual eyes are adored for their rarity, yet a human’s are despised as ominous and become a target of hate.

Grace Gurton’s misfortunes didn’t end there. When she first began to speak, Annabel often cried in secret. The reason was that her daughter stuttered.

Despite this, Annabel was a spirited woman. She pretended everything was fine and tried to instill courage and hope in Grace.

“Grace, it’s okay. Stuttering isn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault.”

Annabel would whisper constantly into her young daughter’s ear. At the time, Grace was lying in a cave on the seaside cliffs with her mother.

“Listen closely. Here, the sound of the waves crashing and the cries of the seagulls bounce off the cave walls and echo back. So the same sound happens twice. The sound waits for the other sound, and we wait for it, too.”

“……”

“It’s the same when you speak. Like an echo, it’s so cute when your words come back again.”

“B-but I don’t like it. I-it’s so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s your charm.”

“Ch-charm? W-what’s that?”

“Hmm, it means that someone will appear who loves your stutter even more than I do.”

“Wh-who is that?”

“Well, I don’t know yet. But I’m sure they’re waiting for you somewhere.”

Annabel smiled warmly, gazing into Grace’s eyes.

The mismatched eyes glistened with moisture, creating rippling waves. One eye reflected the waves of a sea reddened by the dawn sun; the other, waves shrouded by the late evening clouds.

“That will surely happen, Grace,” Annabel said, as if making a promise to herself. She then thought of Galway’s giant, who built walls to protect the solitary island from the tempestuous sea.

But Grace’s misfortunes didn’t end there. Her mother became a victim of the smallpox epidemic that swept across the continent.

Sensing that her condition was serious, Annabel hurriedly wrapped Grace in a blanket and took her to the cave on the cliff. It was the place where they had often lain together, waiting for echoes.

“From now on, you mustn’t take a single step out of here. Do you understand, Grace?”

Annabel repeatedly emphasized this with urgency. Grace found her mother’s expression strange; it was one she had never seen before. Her smile looked both sad and frightening.

“Wh-what’s wrong?”

“Because starting now, you’re going to camp here.”

“C-camp?”

“Yes. You’ll camp here, and I’ll help you like an assistant. Do you remember the fairy tale we read last year? The one about the Indion girl who leaves home to become an adult?”

“Y-yes.”

“Stay here bravely until you can return home. When you do, you won’t be a little kid anymore; you’ll be a grown-up.”

“R-really? L-like the Indion girl, will I get a congratulatory gift?”

“Of course. But until you get permission, you absolutely mustn’t leave this place. You can’t meet me either. If you do, it’s all for nothing. You won’t become an adult and will remain a little child forever.”

“I-I’m scared…”

“I’ll write letters every day and leave them at the entrance of the cave. Even if we can’t see each other, we can exchange letters.”

“I-I’ll try!”

That was Grace’s last memory of her mother. Grace stayed in the cave for a long time, undergoing her coming-of-age ceremony. Eventually, she was rescued by a parish priest sent for her in accordance with Annabel’s last wishes. And so, the child became an adult on her own.

The smallpox epidemic claimed many lives. As a result, orphans swarmed across Aire, like insects that had just hatched. It was a cruel metaphor, but not inaccurate, as their lives had suddenly become worth less than insects.

Grace Gurton endured two years in the poorhouse. When donations and government funding were cut off due to the epidemic, the poorhouse director became increasingly violent.

When the director would yell while ladling watery soup for the meals, Grace, terrified, would abandon her meal and hide in a dark corner. Misfortune echoed repeatedly, wrapping around her like an umbilical cord. Grace listened to the echoes in her own cave, drying her tears.

In that lonely but safe space, which was dark yet offered comfort, she lived curled up for a long time. It was her paradise, her hometown, and her refuge, a place she could always crawl back to and hide.

“If someone like me is acceptable to you, I would be honored if you became my wife.”

“If someone like me is acceptable to you, I would be honored if you became my wife.”

“If someone like me is acceptable to you, I would be honored if you became my wife.”

However, at this very moment, the words Richard Spencer shouted at her from the entrance of her cave reverberated through the walls. The powerful resonance collapsed the cave her past had created.

The place she could return to was gone. In its place, before her, stood an imperfect figure that shifted with the sunlight and angles, always changing. That imperfect figure extended a hand to the prisoner of the cave.

Grace hastily wiped her face with the back of her hand. Some tears are expressions of sadness, while others express pain. Yet Grace couldn’t cry when she was sad or in pain. Her cold past had frozen even her tears.

Some tears, however, express joy and delight. The warmth of sunlight outside the cave and the hand of the imperfect figure melted her frozen tears, causing them to fall drop by drop.

Tears streamed down Grace Gurton’s cheeks. As her small hands wiped her wet face, Richard restrained himself from crying and calmly handed her a handkerchief.

Soon, the wet handkerchief fell away from her face. When the rain stops and the sky clears, a rainbow appears. Grace Gurton’s eyes, once blurred with tears, now opened brightly.

She sniffled and answered, “I-I will.”

A rainbow appeared between the morning sun and the evening clouds. It was a brilliant, vivid promise from God that the flood of judgment that had swallowed her for so long would end, and she would face no more severe trials.

To Grace, Richard Spencer was her giant; to Richard, Grace was the rainbow spectrum, the beginning and end of the rainbow spectrum he had searched for so desperately. And at last, he found the treasure chest hidden beneath the rainbow.