Grace in the Shadows

by Karon Ruiz

  “What about Grace?”

  “I told you yesterday … don’t you remember? She’s got that birthday party at the Ainsworth’s.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” He could never remember his daughter’s numerous activities.

  “Elaine offered to keep her until this evening.” Sammy beamed. “It’ll give us a chance to have some time together, Dalton. It’s been way too long … since your accident.”

  Though he couldn’t disagree, she couldn’t go today. He’d need to make it up to her.

  Mid-morning sun streamed through stained glass, creating color patches across Sammy’s cheeks. Her beauty drew him like bees to honey. Of all days to leave town. They’d have a quiet house with no kids. It had been too long. He missed her. He yearned to hold her but urgency consumed him. If he didn’t get his meds today, his shot at an opportunity to put himself back on course would be lost forever.

  “Why don’t you rest?” he asked. “I’ll make the trip by myself.”

  Sammy’s smile flipped to a frown. “I’m not tired, Dalton.” Her tone, suddenly ice-like.

  “Don’t be angry. I know you’ve been working a lot of extra hours around here. You’ve been picking up a lot of slack for me.” He leaned on his cane. “You need some time to yourself.”

  “You don’t want me to come, do you?”

  “It’s not that, babe.” This wasn’t going well. “It’s a quick trip, Sammy. When I get back, we’ll have the evening to ourselves. Besides, you’ll be bored.”

  “Why don’t you want me to go?”

  His eyes widened and his face heated. “You’re over-reacting. Think of the peaceful afternoon you’ll have without Grace underfoot. I’ll even record the offering when I get back.” She hated that job. Surely she’d be thrilled. He pulled her close to kiss her but she wriggled free.

  “What’s your problem?” he asked.

  “My problem?” she snapped. “Are you serious? You’re the one with all the secrets. You take off to God knows where at a moment’s notice.” Tears welled in her eyes but she wiped them away. “What’s going on with you, Dalton?”

  He blew out a sigh. If only he could tell her. But not now, not yet. He opted for a peace offering.

  “Let’s go to Phoenix next weekend for dinner. Make reservations at that Camelback Mountain restaurant you like so much. What’s the name …? Belford’s? ... yes … that’s it. Pick out a movie and we’ll make a night of it.”

  Her lips formed a straight line; her eyes smoldered with anger.

  “How about it?” Come on, Sammy!

  “Hmmm … let me see, Dalton,” she finally said. “Maybe we could do that … if I’m free and if I don’t need to take a trip somewhere. I’ll get back to you.”

  She whirled around and stormed out of the church.

  The hollow clanking of the church doors announced he was finally alone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Coerced Priorities

  _________________________________________________________

  Sunday, 10:57 a.m.

  Camelback Children’s Hospital

  Phoenix, Arizona

  “You can’t leave now!” The corridor of Camelback Children’s Hospital echoed Carla Connor’s voice.

  Matt tightened his arms around her. “I’ll be back in an hour, Car’. Charity’s stable.”

  “You heard what Dr. Morton said. Her whites are high.”

  “I know, hon. My boss is driving me crazy. If I don’t get that package to his desk today, I could lose my job.” His daughter’s climbing blood counts argued against him. “How did I know this would happen when I agreed to pick it up last week?”

  “He’ll understand. He knows you’ve got a sick child. Did you call him?”

  “I left several messages,” he lied. “He’s not returning my calls.” He lowered his tone, trying to calm her. “It shouldn’t take me long. I’ll run over there now and be back within the hour. Promise.” Another lie.

  “Matt … something feels wrong.” Her deep brown eyes pleaded. “Please don’t leave.”

  He twisted from her arms and walked toward the elevator before she changed his mind. He hesitated at the nurse’s station. Could Carla be right? Maybe Charity was worse than he’d thought.

  He stepped into the elevator and punched the button, wishing it was Dalton Baxter’s face. What a lying hypocrite. Why Carla worshipped the guy, he couldn’t understand.

  As the door glided shut, he saw Carla crumpled in a seat, crying. Anger and guilt battled in his gut. He hated to leave her. And he hated himself for being so weak.

  Instead of a quick run across town to a UPS store, the trip to Prescott would take ninety minutes. He’d meet his supplier, Bulldog, on the town’s outskirts before seeing the preacher at a bus station. The additional rendezvous would cost him an extra hour but it didn’t matter. Even if he broke all speed limits, Matt wouldn’t be back at the hospital until late afternoon. Carla would have on her fight face by then and things would get ugly.

  But he had no choice. He had to do this. If Baxter told her the truth about returning to the drug trade, their marriage would be over and he couldn’t take that. Their relationship had barely survived his past brushes with the law. Then Charity came out of remission and things had gotten even worse. The mounting bills on the kitchen counter and lapsed mortgage payment made his return to illegal work imperative. If he didn’t get the house payment up to date, he’d have a lot more to worry about than another argument.

  Baxter. What a piece of dirt. Why couldn’t he wait a few lousy days … at least until Charity stabilized?

  The elevator’s bells chimed and the doors opened. He walked through the lobby skirting patients in wheelchairs surrounded by Sunday visitors. A set of gigantic glass doors yawned, exchanging cool air with Phoenix heat, blasting Matt’s face as he exited. Pavement steamed around his sandaled feet as he headed to their old Buick station wagon with the cracked back window. Once inside, he shut off his phone and slipped it into his pocket. Within an hour Carla’s frantic calls would begin. She’d be desperate. He didn’t blame her. The frequent vigils at Charity’s bedside had taken their toll. Carla was about to snap.

  So was he.

  He’d be gone at least four hours which should give him enough time to dream up a plausible story. Carla might buy his excuse about having poor phone service but explaining why he was four hours late would be a problem.

  As the car rumbled through the parking lot, the engine back-fired, giving him an idea. This piece of junk might be good for something after all. A breakdown in downtown Phoenix might be believable. At least he hoped so.

  Surely Charity would be better by the time he got back. Maybe even well enough to go home. If that happened, Carla’s temper would subside. He’d grab a peace offering in the hospital gift shop once he got back. Maybe they’d have her favorite yellow roses.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Gordy

  _________________________________________________________

  Sunday, 11:15 a.m.

  Saint Luke’s Community Church

  Sunlight shimmered off the cement as Samantha walked to the back side of Saint Luke’s Community Church. Gravel crunched underfoot as she made her way across a pointed shadow from the church’s steeple. She straightened her shoulders and sucked in a deep breath, trying to get a grip. Gordy waited around the corner and he didn’t need to see how upset she was.

  Her son leaned against her car, a paperback tucked under his arm, his belongings stacked near his feet. Sandwiched between a green duffle, his backpack, and a computer bag was an old leather suitcase he’d found at a thrift store. Samantha knew it contained one of Gordy’s most prized possessions, a high-powered telescope.

  “Hey kiddo. How was youth group?” He looked more like Dalton every day, minus the peppery sideburns and slight paunch.

  “Boring.” Gordy shrugged.

  “Ready to go?” Samantha opened the tr
unk.

  Gordy stuffed his gear inside, then covered it with his windbreaker. He twisted around and looked at the church. “Isn’t Dad coming?”

  “He’s going to Prescott.”

  “Again?”

  “He’s got mission business.” She slammed the trunk a little too hard. “I’ll drop you at your girlfriend’s. Here ...” She handed him an envelope. “Your ticket’s inside and I put in some extra cash.”

  “Girlfriend? Bee’s my buddy, Mom. You know that.” Gordy stuffed the envelope into his pocket.

  “Sure she is, son.”

  “Can I drive?”

  She tossed him the keys, then climbed into the passenger seat.

  Gordy lobbed his book to the passenger floor, then slid behind the steering wheel. He pulled out Samantha’s iPhone charger, handed it to her, inserted his into the opening and attached his Android. “Sorry … my phone’s dying.”

  Hers was too. She’d recharge it after dropping him off.

  He adjusted the seat and mirror, then secured his seatbelt. New driver ritual out of the way, he started the engine.

  Samantha picked up the dog-eared novel off the floorboard. The chunky paperback copy of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment had a folded page two thirds in. “Not done yet?” she asked.

  “Nope,” he sighed. “I can’t believe I waited so long. My AP essay’s due when I get back.” The Camry’s wheels sprayed stones as Gordy did a turnabout.

  “You’ll finish.” She smiled. Deadlines were Gordy’s oxygen.

  “Are you sure I can’t take my van? It’s only a two hour trip.” He rolled through the driveway. A carpet of manicured grass bordered nearby.

  She shook her head. “Driving that windy road through the forest is much too dangerous. Especially in that old thing. You can use Grams’ car while you’re up there. I’m sure she’ll have you running errands all over town.”

  “No kidding.” He turned right on Jefferson Road. “This year’s list is gigantic. I’m not complaining. I need the money.”

  “She’ll make sure you have plenty of free time too, Gordy.” Samantha studied his sculptured face. She found it hard to remember the little boy who had once resided there.

  “I emailed Jerome. I haven’t heard back yet.”

  Samantha smiled. Her son needed some down time before school started. “Just make sure you do that, Gordy. Grams isn’t looking for slave labor. She wants you to have fun.”

  “Work comes first. I need to pay you and Dad back, remember?”

  “It’s okay to make smaller payments,” she said. Gordy’s nickname should be Mr. Responsible. His eagerness to repay the money he’d borrowed for his telescope was Exhibit One.

  “Really?” He smiled. “I’ll take you up on that. I’d like to buy some new filters.”

  “Go for it. I’ll talk to Dad.” Minutes ticked by as they reminisced over past family vacations in Grams’ quaint town of Huckleberry, Arizona.

  “I worry about Grams living so far away all alone,” Gordy said. “Why doesn’t she move back to McCormick?”

  “Too many good memories. That cabin was my parents’ sweet spot. She really misses your grandpa. Besides, our heat drives her crazy.”

  “I love it up there. It’s great for research,” he said. “The clear skies and elevation are perfect.”

  “To see sun spots?”

  “Uh huh. Lately the solar activity is off the charts.” He shot her a worried look. “Have you thought about what I told you?”

  “Yes, Gordy. Good grief,” she said. “But I’ve got other things to worry about.”

  “You and Dad are fighting again, aren’t you?”

  “We’ve had some arguments. All married people do. Don’t worry about it.”

  “He keeps leaving town. What’s with that?”

  She gave him the company line in the calmest voice she could manage. “Yavapai Mission is in a crisis. Your father’s taking an offering up there.”

  It didn’t explain all the other trips. Even to her it sounded lame. “Remind me again about those CTMs …?” Maybe she could steer him back to his favorite topic.

  He laughed. “CMEs.”

  “What does that stand for again?”

  “Coronal Mass Ejections. The sun spits out plasma.”

  “Sounds awful.”

  “They can be.”

  “And this is why you’re worried?”

  “We could lose power, Mom. We had a near miss last week. NASA said it was similar to what happened in 1859. Remember? I told you that.”

  “Oh yes. Telegraphs were exploding all over the place.”

  “That solar storm lasted seventeen hours. Scientists believe it had to have been an X-class mega flare. Something like that would be catastrophic today.”

  “Why didn’t I learn about that in school?” Samantha asked.

  “Other than frying some communication systems, it didn’t affect many people.”

  Samantha mused over the information, feeling amazed by what her son knew. If this catastrophe happened, what would come of his college plans next year? The faded M.I.T. logo on Gordy’s t-shirt signaled much more than a youthful pipe dream. His exceptional S.A.T. scores enticed several colleges but Gordy only had his eye on one. Massachusetts Institute of Technology had come courting and promised a full ride. By this time next year he’d be packing his bags and heading for the East coast on a promised father and son road trip with Dalton. With America’s heartland between them, Massachusetts seemed to be his destiny.

  “Do some research.” Gordy interrupted her thoughts as he turned left on Caliente Drive toward the Brewster home. On the northeast corner, Cocopah Park, surrounded a crescent-shaped body of water aptly named, Luna Pond. Gordy spotted several kids jumping in and cooling off. He smiled to himself, remembering his own carefree adventures there on hot summer days just a few years ago.

  “Google CARRINGTON EVENT,” Gordon continued. “You and Dad should be putting away food and water. Check my data. It’s in the green binder on my desk.”

  “So … you think the power might go off for a long time?”

  “Only if we have an EMP.”

  “EMP?”

  “Electric magnetic pulse event. If we have a severe one, it could take down the grids. Experts say it’s not if, but when.”

  Samantha sighed. She didn’t want to think about not having air conditioning in Arizona. Especially during an August heat wave. She shook her head. “I’m sure the government has some sort of back-up plan.”

  “I hope so. The ejections have been much stronger than usual. The Internet is fired up with speculation.”

  Why on earth did a seventeen year-old ponder such gloomy thoughts? If he would get his head out of the books, perhaps he might meet a nice girl. Bethany Brewster was beautiful. Why didn’t he see it? Better grab a little happiness now before he had adult-sized problems like hers. She squeezed his arm. “Research is fine, son. But having a little balance to your life is also important. You know what they say, ‘all work and no play … and all that.’”

  “Studying the solar system is fun.”

  Yes, she conceded. To her intelligent son, she guessed it was.

  ***

  Gordy pulled into the Brewster driveway and turned off the engine. Samantha climbed out and met him at the trunk. After he unloaded his gear, she gave him a lengthy hug and kissed his cheek.

  “Here,” she said, handing him a small box of motion sickness pills. “Those last few miles always get you, remember? Don’t forget to take them an hour before you hit the road.”

  “I will. Thanks,” he said, stuffing the package into his backpack.

  “I’ve got some things to do,” she told him. “Please thank Barb for taking you to the bus station. See you in two weeks.” She climbed into the car as he grabbed his stuff and headed toward the front door.

  He gave her a thumbs up as she backed out of the driveway.

  She
’d miss him. He brightened her days with laughter and sarcasm about everything from politics to the inept education he endured in a town with few options. It would be lonely around the house the next couple weeks. Especially since Dalton all but ignored her.

  She paused at the stop sign down the block and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Her afternoon plans could alter her life forever. For half a second she considered chucking the whole idea and spending her day by the pool. But nagging worries bothered her like summertime mosquitoes. If she swatted away the thoughts, they’d only return and eventually bite into her vulnerabilities.

  On impulse, she took a right on Kaibab Road. The shortcut to Saint Luke’s. She pressed the accelerator, hoping to avoid a McCormick policeman with too much time on his hands.

  Today she would follow her husband like a private eye.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Highway to Hell

  _________________________________________________________

  Sunday, 11:15 a.m.

  McCormick, Arizona

  Martin idled the Ford Fusion at a stop sign where Charleston intersected Kaibab Road. Laney bellowed the familiar words to the old Beatles song blaring from the stereo, her contralto voice filling the car. She winked at her husband hoping he’d join her. He’d seemed distracted all morning.

  She shook an imaginary tambourine as she crooned about a hard day’s night and working like a dog.

  “You’ve got that right, Baby.” Martin scowled. “You’ve worked way too hard to be let go like that.”

  Laney stopped singing and caressed his arm with her hand. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not the money. You deserve to be treated better than that. I think it’s age discrimination. We should sue.”

  Laney laughed. “Sue? Marty, goodness … I’m looking forward to doing something else. I’ve come to terms with this. Life is a gift. You take what you’re given, no more.”