Grace in the Shadows

by Karon Ruiz

  As he hunted for a tie, a thought came to him. He went to the bedroom and foraged behind his socks in the dresser’s top drawer where he located his collection of clerical collars. He grabbed one and returned to the bathroom, where he tucked it in around his neck. He breathed deeply through his nose and felt the Oxy hit. His confidence soared.

  This meeting at the Sheriff’s Department would be no big deal. The guys from the council might have scared the hell out of him yesterday but surely they’d overreacted. Once he was released on his own recognizance, he and Grace would be picking out their favorite flavors from Brewster’s Ice Cream Shoppe.

  He grabbed the prescription bottle he’d buried in the bathroom drawer and carried it to the walk-in closet. He flipped on a light and scoured the shelves for a hiding place. Behind some shoeboxes, a pair of dusty Tony Lama cowboy boots stood tall like grey tombstones. He’d worn them a couple of times since his father’s funeral but his feet never felt comfortable. Fine crafted alligator skin, they reminded him too much of their previous owner, stiff and unyielding.

  He pulled one down and dropped the bottle into the shaft, rolling the container to the toe, then placed the boot back on the shelf. No one would find his medicine. He’d reward himself with an Oxy once this horrible day was over.

  ***

  “They didn’t go for it?” Samantha asked Martin. She cradled her cell with her chin while she poured a third cup of coffee. After one too many sleepless nights, drinking the thick black brew helped her to stay upright.

  “Brad objected and persuaded the others during my conference call. No one but Amanda would agree to a delay despite what I told them about the possible solar disaster. I managed to postpone the trip for an hour but that’s it. I’m sorry, Samantha. I tried.”

  “That’s better than nothing.” Samantha’s voice cracked and her legs felt like jelly. “You’ll be here by eight-thirty, right?”

  “Yes. Harold, Jeremy and me. Brad’s busy.”

  “This is becoming more real by the minute. He’ll be locked up, won’t he, Martin?”

  His voice gentled. “Barring a miracle.”

  “Part of me asks for divine intervention. But the angry part wants him to suffer. I feel like I’m going crazy.”

  She told Martin goodbye and headed to the den. Grace sat on Dalton’s lap transfixed by the movie. Neither noticed her come in so she left the room. No point in interrupting. The doorbell would do that soon enough.

  ***

  Grace was mesmerized by colorful cartoon fish so Dalton set her down on the carpet.

  “I’ll be right back, sweetie,” he told her as he headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. When he entered the breakfast room, Sammy stood at the sink, staring out the window.

  He paused. The last couple of days had been awful. His car was gone, the pain in his face, unbearable. And his priceless Oxy, sucked into oblivion.

  He opened the cabinet and she jolted back as if he were an intruder. Her eyes narrowed. She pointed to his collar.

  “Why are you wearing that?”

  “I’m a minister, that’s why,” he bit out.

  “So you haven’t worn it in what?—three or so years and today you’ve decided to? That’s rich.”

  He poured his coffee, then dumped in a heavy dose of sugar. He didn’t answer her, but let his spoon do the talking, swirling the brew with a vengeance, striking the inside of the mug as he stirred.

  “They’re on their way.” She let it go. “Martin says to leave your personal items with me.”

  “I need my license. I might have to drive myself up there.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s the 7th.”

  “Dalton, you can’t be serious.”

  “I need to go, Sammy. I skipped last month. If the guys refuse to make a quick stop then I’ll meet them in Prescott.”

  “What is this obsession with your dead mother?”

  Sammy never understood. Visiting his mother’s grave was nonnegotiable. The councilmen would make an allowance or he’d use Gordy’s VW. “I’m making my visit.”

  Sammy shrugged. “At least leave your cash and credit cards.”

  He flipped open his wallet and pulled out a few twenties along with a Visa and Master Card. He slapped them on counter. “This isn’t necessary, you’ll see.”

  “If you explain you’re an addict they might put you in a medical unit. That has to be better than jail.”

  “Addict? Why do people keep saying that? I take medication now and then, that’s all.”

  “You’re a junkie. And your habit is destroying our family.”

  “What don’t you understand?” He slammed a hand on the counter. “I’m in pain.”

  Her eyes scowled like she wanted to say something. Instead, she whirled and left the kitchen. That was the second time she walked out on a conversation.

  A cautious sip of hot coffee produced a lob of spit into the sink. He cupped his cheek as pain radiated. He added ice chips to the mug then scavenged the fridge for something to eat. His stomach yearned for sizzling steak but his mouth said no. He settled for buttered toast with jam. He chewed cautiously between sips of lukewarm coffee. He’d have to watch Grace eat her ice cream this afternoon. His mouth rejected extreme temperatures.

  The three-man inquisition would arrive soon. He needed to hurry. He grabbed scissors from a kitchen drawer and headed outside to Sammy’s garden.

  After clipping an assortment of wild flowers, he examined them in the morning sun. They weren’t the usual daisies Mama liked, but they’d have to do. He returned to the kitchen and rinsed the blossoms in water, then wrapped the stems in a wet paper towel. He set the flowers down and headed upstairs to take another Oxy. It might be too soon but so what? The morning’s stress compounded by another argument with his wife meant he’d earned an extra.

  When he entered the bedroom, Sammy sat on the bed, an opened Bible spread across her lap. Through bleary eyes she looked at him, swiping fingers across her wet face.

  “Grace is asking for you,” he lied. Samantha said nothing, but got up and left.

  He walked to the closet and closed the door, then retrieved a couple of pills from their hiding place. After returning the boot to the shelf, the door opened.

  “I had a feeling you were up to something.” Sammy stood in the doorway. Her mouth formed a tight frown as she eyed his clenched fist. “I wouldn’t take that if I were you.”

  “You’re not me,” he barked. He left the closet and went to the bathroom sink. He placed a tablet in his mouth, cupped some water, swallowed. He slipped the second tablet into his sock.

  The front door bell chimed.

  “Gotta go, they’re here,” he grumbled.

  “Okay.” Instead of the caustic tone she’d been using, she sounded almost kind. “I’ll be praying.”

  “Don’t bother. God’s never been there for me.” Dalton’s stomps punctuated his anger as he descended the stairs.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Grace Baxter

  _________________________________________________________

  8:45 a.m.

  Desert Memorial Gardens

  McCormick, Arizona

  Dalton knelt at his mother’s grave, grateful for the massive headstone. It cast a luminous shadow across his body. But even in its shade, scalding temperatures took their toll. He mopped his brow with his sleeve while sweat soaked through his shirt. The bouquet he’d brought from home felt clammy in his hands.

  He yanked dead flowers from a plant well and tossed them aside. He inserted the wild flowers in their place.

  “Let’s wrap things up. We’ve got over an hour on the road,” a voice told him. He turned to see Martin standing a few feet away. Harold and Jeremy, hands in their pockets, stood on each side.

  “Martin’s right,” Jeremy said. “Let’s go.”

  Dalton’s throat tightened. “Give me five more minutes. Would you?”

&nb
sp; Martin looked at him, then nodded once. “We’ll be in the car.”

  “We’ve been here long enough, brother,” Harold said. Dalton detected a hint of compassion in the older man’s voice.

  “It’s just five minutes.” Martin walked to the Fusion and opened the backseat door. Jeremy and Harold climbed in.

  Dalton traced the engraved “G” on the black granite.

  GRACE ELLEN BAXTER

  Born December 6, 1941 Died August 7, 2001

  I Am the Resurrection and the Life ~ He who believes

  in Me shall Live Even if he Dies ~ John 11:25

  “Sorry I’ve been so long.” Tears escaped and he wiped them away. “You’re the only one who understands me,” he said. “I’m in trouble, Mom. Deep trouble.” The rectangular burial plot became her kitchen table as he emptied his heart.

  “Sammy warned me about the avalanche forecast but you know me, I’ve got Wallace Baxter’s stubborn streak. What a legacy, huh?”

  He scooted closer to the tombstone. “Things have gotten bad between Sammy and me. I messed up big time. I might lose her. I don’t know what to do.” He closed his eyes.

  “You always said, ‘The prayers of the righteous avail much.’ I know I’m not righteous but you are, Mom. God listens to you. If you can hear me, please pray for me.”

  Dalton glanced at the men who stared through open windows in the car. He got to his feet, then looked at the grave next to hers. The dead flowers he’d tossed had landed below a row of block lettering that spelled his father’s name.

  How fitting. Everything you touched died. Especially Mom.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Unexpected Visitor

  _________________________________________________________

  8:59 a.m.

  Baxter Home

  Samantha spread butter on two pieces of sourdough toast. It seemed surreal to be doing ordinary household tasks with Grace playing upstairs, while Dalton went to jail. The doorbell chimed. She wiped her hands on a paper towel and headed to the front door.

  Brad Sanders, dressed in a linen designer shirt, stood on her front porch, his hands in his pockets. He furrowed his brow as he spoke. “I know I’m the last person you expected, Sam.”

  “What do you want, Brad?”

  “To check on you. To see if you’re okay. With Dalton on his way to … uh … Prescott … this must be very hard on you.”

  And you’re here to gloat? She frowned at him. “Since when have you cared?”

  “I’ve always cared, Sam.” He moved toward her. She took a step back. The tips of his boots now claimed her threshold.

  She eyed his feet, then raked his body, meeting his gaze. “You sure have a great way of showing it.”

  “I admit I was harsh at the council meeting.” He inched forward, his body now inside the house. “It pains me to see Dalton treat you this way. You deserve better. You’ve always deserved better.” He ran a finger across her cheek.

  She slapped his hand away. “Stop … Brad.” Her voice cracked. “You need to leave.”

  “I want to lend a hand. Can’t we let the past go? We can be friends, can’t we?”

  “Friends?” She grimaced. “We haven’t been friends in twenty years. And we won’t be, ever again.”

  He moved into her space, his breath smelling of tobacco. “Dalton will go to jail, Sam. You’ll need support. I’ll be there for you. Unlike that … that looser you married.”

  “To think we were there for you when Maggie left. And against my better judgment you were appointed to the council. Now you act like this, how dare you!” She gasped.

  Brad leaned close. “My marriage was only an unfortunate detour.” His barrel-like chests within inches of hers. “I had to do something while I waited for you to come to your senses about that creep you married.”

  She gasped. “How dare you come here and insult Dalton!” Anger tightened the knot in her chest. She swung the door closed, forcing him to take a step back. But before she could latch it, he shoved his way through.

  “Leave … now …” She pushed at the wood but it refused to budge.

  “Calm down, Sammy. I mean no harm. I’m here to help.”

  “Help? All you do is cause problems. Why on earth you came back to Saint Luke’s I’ll never know. I feel like I’m being stalked.” She glanced at the staircase. Please God, let Grace stay up in her room.

  He snickered. “That’s a bit over reactive on your part, isn’t it?” He stroked her hair. She snapped her head back. “After all, Saint Luke’s is my home church, too. It’s not my fault our denomination only has one chapel in this God-forsaken town. What can I say?”

  “Considering our history, I thought you would have gone elsewhere. Like back to Phoenix.”

  “I’m done with that fast life. Besides, I don’t recall your husband objecting at the time.”

  Thanks to her. She’d been cautiously okay with Brad worshipping at Saint Luke’s—five years ago. At the time she’d decided to extend him an olive branch, hoping Brad had changed. But unfortunately he was still the same man she’d dated in college. Obnoxious. A Jerk. And fixated. With her.

  “Dalton approved my council appointment, didn’t he?” A sneer spread across Brad’s face . “That was just one of his many mistakes. And now … well, he’ll be in prison a long time. You’re going to need help. A man around the house.”

  “That won’t be you.” Her voice clipped as she pushed against his snake-skin boots again. The door gave ever so slightly. Then he backed out to the porch.

  “We’ll see about that.” He turned and strode toward his car.

  Samantha slammed the door, her heart hammering. She twisted the deadbolt and rested against the wood, trying to catch her breath.

  Brad Sanders. Why wouldn’t he leave her alone?

  With a pounding heart and shaking hands, she returned to the kitchen, finished scrambling the eggs, and called Grace to breakfast.

  As she took her first bite, the sound of jostling locks made Samantha freeze for a moment. Brad wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t dare. Would he?

  She jolted up from the table, knocking over an empty coffee cup. It wobbled to the formica’s edge and she caught it. Grace continued to pull off crusts from her toast, oblivious.

  “Mom, we’re home!” Gordy called through the hallway. Samantha breathed in relief. Her son appeared at the breakfast room entry, her mother Shirley, following.

  “Grams!” Grace bounced from the table, skirted around her brother and hugged her grandmother tight.

  “Thanks for coming, Mom,” Samantha said.

  “Gordy didn’t give me a choice. He’s convinced about this disaster. What do you think?”

  “I’m in total agreement. I want you safe.” Samantha eyed her mother’s suitcase. “We’ve got the sofa bed ready for you in Dalton’s office. I cleared a shelf in the downstairs bathroom.”

  “Hopefully I won’t stay long. Maybe things won’t be as bad as you think.”

  “If the power’s still on at one o’clock, then I’d say we’ve dodged a bullet,” Gordy said. “And you and I can head back to the mountains.”

  “Grace, can you help your grandmother put her things away?” Samantha asked.

  “Come on, Grams.” Grace grabbed her grandmother’s hand.

  “You just missed your father,” Samantha told Gordy once they were alone. “He’s on his way to Saguaro Junction with the council members. Grace doesn’t know yet so could we keep things quiet when she’s around?”

  He shrugged. “Didn’t you ask them to wait? If we lose electricity, things could get really bad.”

  “I tried, Gordy. Other than the Fernándezes, no one believes me. How about something to eat?”

  “Grams and I ate on the way. But coffee would be good.”

  Samantha grabbed a carafe of hot brew and filled a cup as Grams reappeared in the doorway.

  “You’ve trained your daughter
well. She’s a great hostess,” Grams said. “She even gave me a fresh toothbrush.”

  “Sounds like Grace. Where is she?”

  “Outside looking at the storm clouds. It’s getting darker by the minute.”

  Samantha glanced out the window. The forecasted monsoon bore down on her little desert town and she hoped it wouldn’t be brutal. They didn’t need bad weather on top of everything else.

  Samantha turned to her mother. “You look exhausted, Mom. Grab some sleep.”

  “I will once I empty the car. Gordy and I brought a ton of stuff. Where do you want it?”

  “We’ll take care of that,” Gordy said. “Get some rest.”

  Her mother didn’t argue again. She turned and disappeared down the hallway.

  After several trips to the garage, Samantha and Gordy had emptied the Olds.

  “I could use a nap too,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “So could you, son.”

  “No time for that. Bee’s on her way.”

  “How is she getting here?”

  “Her mom’s bringing her. I’ll drive her home later.”

  “Have you told her about the CME?”

  “I called her before we left the mountains. The Brewsters are well-supplied. I’ve seen their food storage.” He hunched his shoulders. “I’ve got to tell Bee about Dad before she hears it from someone at church. This is so embarrassing.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” She kissed his cheek as she headed toward the stairs. “If I’m not back in an hour, come wake me.”

  Samantha dragged her body upstairs. When she reached the landing, the front door chimed. She leaned an ear over the railing. Bethany Brewster’s infatuation was apparent to everyone except Gordy. When would her son finally catch on? Although, it was kind of sweet that he didn’t.

  After detecting muted voices below, Samantha gave up trying to interpret what was being said. Fatigue pushed her to her bedroom where she collapsed on the king-size bed. Within minutes she fell asleep under a rattling fan.