Grit To Grace

Six

Fallyn wasn't far behind him. Her sore body curled against the wall of her room, hugging the blankets up to her chin. Sleep lasted longer than she wanted. The white numbers on her clock read 2 pm.

With a huff, she got up and trudged down to the kitchen. Will had mentioned a soup his mother used to make and if Fallyn was right, she had just the recipe to help him feel better.

By the time he would come down, there would be a bubbling pot of creamy soup. Flecks of bacon, carrots and chives floating in the white broth with chunks of potatoes. It was probably different than what he was used to, but she hoped it'd do the trick.

The recipe had been passed down in her family and evolved with each generation. For Fallyn the soup evoked memories of her father making it on Sunday nights and they'd eat in front of the television for once. Bowls in hand with crusty bread for dipping. Her mother would sip wine and eat the soup and they'd watch a movie as a family. For Will, she hoped it would evoke memories of his home and help his homesickness.

But when the soup was finished and ready to serve, the young man had yet to come down. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in almost a week, maybe more. Between the murders back home and the sudden upheaval of his life, sleep hadn't been kind for him. Now, he was so exhausted, he felt like sleeping for a week.

Fallyn frowned and dished up the soup, setting it on the table for him. She debated just leaving it for him to eat later, but decided against it. The soup was never as good reheated. She quietly walked up the stairs to wake him.

When she quietly opened up the door, the scene before her made her smile. It warmed her heart seeing him sleeping soundly with the stuffed horse wrapped up in his arms. It looked like it helped, she was glad she'd gotten it for him. She reached out to touch him, but shook her head and pulled her hand back. The last thing she wanted was another vision. Sure, they'd had small moments of contact without the visions, but was it worth it?

"Will," her voice pulled him back from the depths, and he began to stir. "I made lunch." He yawned and rolled onto his back, sitting up and nodding.

"I'm awake," he muttered. "What'd you make?"

"Come down and find out for yourself. I think you'll like it." She grinned and headed for the stairs. He stretched and let out a yawn, then got up.

"Alright," he mumbled, following her. He rubbed his eyes as he made his way down, still obviously half asleep. "Smells good," he remarked. Then he paused, and smelled the air again. "In fact... it smells familiar."

Fallyn smirked, a small gleam in her emerald eyes. She busied herself with the clean up while Will got settled.

"Let me know what you think," she told him. He hummed and nodded, sitting down at the table. He eyed it for a moment, then smiled a bit. Potato soup.

"You're very sweet, Fallyn," he let out an amused chuckle. It was adorable that she had paid that much attention to his ramblings about missing his mama. It warmed his heart.

Then he took a bite. He froze. This was the same soup he knew, there was no mistaking the familiar taste. He'd never known another potato soup that had the same subtle taste of the secret ingredient. The color drained from his face, and he tentatively took another bite. His hand trembled as he set the spoon down.

"Where on God's green earth did you get Mama's recipe?" He whispered.

"It's been passed down forever. My dad taught me how to make it." She shrugged, glancing at him. She hesitated a moment. "Is it good?"

He smiled, wiping his eyes as he looked away. It was a poor attempt to hide the tears that were beginning to fall.

"You did perfect. It's not exactly the same, but it's unmistakably the same recipe at its core."