The Lightest Path

19

Four weeks later

Bucky worked on the land. A lot. He liked doing it, and the kids from the little village loved to watch the White Wolf. Bucky let them. He didn't mind.
They didn't approach him.
Only when Grace was around. They liked her very well and sometimes they even talked in Xhosa. Bucky never understood, but Grace was still learning.
Every time she could find a moment where she was able to learn, she was complaining about the fact that this was the most difficult language she had ever studied.
As the days passed, Bucky became a real farmer. He had more goats now. Four, and two cows. Grace didn't know how he did it, but Bucky always waved it away when she asked.
When she came home - always at different times, she didn't really have a routine - Bucky was or asleep or working and sweaty in the hot sun, or inside doing something else.
But it was very good for him, the farm work. His muscles developed very well and he was as healthy as a horse, which Grace made sure of every week. She couldn't help it - it was like a need. She checked him every Sunday on his health.
At first Bucky didn't want her to, but when he saw her big, brown eyes begging him, he couldn't resist anymore. It was like when they first met. Grace was very professional and Bucky silent. And just like then, they used the word 'flower' if there was something wrong.
"How you're gonna reward me this time, for being a good patient?" he asked jokingly when Grace shone with a little lamp in his eye - he had been complaining about that he had a certain headache that day, and it started behind his eyes.
"I don't know," she said, and Bucky could tell she wasn't really here - she was way too concentrated.
"No sticker this time?" A little smile formed around her lips.
"I'm afraid not."
She shut off the little lamp. Check done.
"A story for a story," he said and got up from the dinner table he had been sitting on. Grace raised her brows.
"You're completely fine, if that's what you wanted to know," she said and turned to disinfected her hands. Bucky didn't say something about that, it was a thing she automatically did. She did it all day as a doctor, also in their little home - he liked discovering little things like that.
He smirked and Grace leaned against the sink.
"And I thought that we only did that once?" Bucky pursed his lips as he thought and approached her. He placed his arm around her and sighed.
"I don't care," he said. "I just want to know... what you're favourite colour is and why." Grace giggled and shook her head.
"I don't have a favourite colour," she said and walked out of his embrace, plopped on the couch and lifted her knees against her chest.
Bucky sat down next to her.
"Everyone has a favourite colour," he concluded and Grace rolled her eyes at him.
"I can't choose," she said and leaned with her head against her hand. "There are too many colours for me in this world to like. How can I pick one?"
Bucky softly laughed at her comment.
"Mine's brown," he said and Grace raised her brow. "I'm serious!"
"And why's that?" Grace moved a little closer to him. "When I think about brown I think about your brown goat you called Sam, because he's irritating and always making those annoying sounds." Bucky laughed - she was right.
"No, it's not my favourite colour because of the goat," he said and placed his arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer to him.
"Then why?" She looked up at him, with those beautiful eyes.
"Your eyes," he said, "are brown. A pretty colour brown. Like chocolate." Grace snickered and rolled with her eyes at him. "And it reminds me of my time period." Now his smile became a little sad and Grace moved her body so she could completely face him.
He talked about 'his old days' now and then, but there always was a certain sadness lurking around the corner. Bucky did not seem to have troubles with it, but it would never be easy enough.
"My dad always wore a brown jacket and smoked cigars with my uncle," he explained. "And I always wore brown suspenders. Brown was a very popular colour back then."
Grace tucked a stray of his hair behind his ear.
"I see," she mumbled. She took a deep breath. "Brown it is."
"And now, I want to hear what your favourite colour is," he said and flicked her nose - he loved doing that. She always pulled a funny face, without knowing it. It made him smile.
"I already told you," she said, "I don't have one."
"Then tell me why you don't." He wouldn't give up that easy. Grace looked at him and tried to hide her smile. She always tried when she didn't want to give him what he wanted, but secretly liked it.
Her eyebrows twitched in a way he never could, in a wavy way, and her lips would tremble to suppress that cute smile.
"A story for a story," he reminded her. "I told you one, now it's your turn."
And then she broke.
"Okay," she said. "You win. I need to play fair, after all." He nodded with a satisfied smile.
Bucky waited for Grace to start.
"When I was a little girl, I could never choose what to wear," she started. "I loved my clothes, and I wore them as much and long as possible. And I remember, that my mom came home one day with a legging and with little rainbow glittered boots." She laughed, but her eyes didn't really join in.
Bucky knew her mom died when she was very young. Not how, and not at what age she was. But whenever it came up, the sadness of that little girl creeped up at her. He wished he could do something about it.
"The legging was striped purple and green, and matched perfectly with my rainbow glittered boots. I wore that outfit every day because I loved it so much!"
"Every day?" he asked and played with a lock of her hair. Grace nodded.
"I never took them off, not the legging and neither the boots. I wore them in bed, to school, even when I took a shower they had to rip them off my body. And when the legging needed to go in the wash machine I was a really stubborn kid that ran away and hid somewhere." Bucky giggled.
"But I outgrew both one day. I was completely heartbroken. I didn't want to throw them away, but we had to." She raised her shoulders, like it was nothing. "I really liked it. That's why I can't choose a favourite colour, because of that."
Bucky raised his eyebrows and Grace hid her face behind her hair, blushing red.
"I feel completely stupid about it, but it's the truth." Bucky stroke the hair from her face, tugged it behind her ears so he could see her face clearly. The blush faded away.
"Couldn't you find new ones?" he curiously asked. Grace shook her head with a disappointment smile.
"I searched everywhere. Nowhere to be found." Her voice dropped a little and Bucky kissed her cheek.
"Perhaps," he said, "one day you'll find that legging again."
"Not the shoes," she said. "I loved them, but that would truly be the worst to wear. I would love to have that legging again though."
Bucky smirked.
"I'm sure you do."