The Masterpiece

by Francine Rivers

  She gasped. “You’re impossible.” She leaned forward, too. “It’s a waste of money to buy a steak I can’t eat.”

  “Oh. You’re a vegetarian.”

  “No, but I’m not a glutton either.”

  At least he’d gotten a rise out of her. “Eat what you can.” He signaled the waiter again. The man approached cautiously.

  Roman didn’t know where to pick up the conversation after that tirade.

  She was looking at him again, but her anger had already dissipated. “You’re impossible to read. Do you know that?”

  He gave a bleak laugh. “You’re telling me that?” There was something new in her expression. “What?”

  She bowed her head, smoothing the napkin on her lap. “I’m not sure what you want from me.”

  Neither was he, but she’d unlocked the gate. He could hear Jasper’s voice in his head. Don’t push. Wait to be invited in. He’d had only three friends growing up, all dead before they turned eighteen. The responsibility for one could be laid at his feet. Maybe that was the reason he’d never gotten close to anyone since. And never a woman. Jasper Hawley had his theories about Bobby Ray Dean’s reasons. Roman didn’t want to know.

  “I’d like to find out if we can be friends.”

  Grace sat at the desk in her hotel room, responding to Shanice’s text asking how the road trip was going.

  He wants to find out if we can be friends.

  And you said?

  I didn’t say no. He’s been different since we left Topanga Canyon.

  Different how?

  I don’t know exactly. We’ve been talking more.

  Talking about what?

  Places he’s seen. He had a motorcycle and rode all over Europe. He has a tattoo wrapped around his rib cage and up onto his chest.

  And you know this how?!?

  We went swimming at the hotel. Lots of moms and kids. Don’t worry. My room is on a different floor. He’s been a gentleman. Most of the time. He can still be aggravating and rude.

  Should I be worried about you? Don’t forget Brian.

  Grace had forgotten all about Brian. That wasn’t a good sign. She thumbed a response. Nothing has changed in that regard. I’d better get back to studying.

  OK. I’ll check in with you again. Be careful.

  Tonight, over dinner, Grace had caught a glimpse of Roman she hadn’t seen before. Vulnerability. It surprised her because he’d always come across as a man who knew exactly who he was and how to get what he wanted. Was he playing with her? She didn’t need Shanice to tell her to be careful. It had become her natural inclination.

  Whatever Roman’s real intent, she should get to know him. Maybe there was more to the man than what she already knew. Until this evening, she thought he was a cynical, discontented loner driven to succeed. He worked hard, made a truckload of money from his art and investments, and used some to buy himself a fortress.

  Roman Velasco was certainly no knight in shining armor. Oh, he had armor, all right, and cannons aimed at anyone who dared intrude. He went out occasionally to dally with a peasant girl. She’d learned about a man’s physical needs from Patrick. Roman would have as little trouble as Patrick finding a willing girl.

  She had learned from her marriage to Patrick that she didn’t know what went on in men’s minds. Sometimes she’d feel a hint something was off, that their relationship had less to do with love than with his goals. He hadn’t forced her to give up anything, but he’d known how to make her feel guilty enough to surrender all her dreams so he could attain his.

  Friends she trusted had picked Brian. They knew men better than she did. And she liked Brian. She’d be able to think straight with a man like that. He wouldn’t be like Patrick: needy one moment, demanding the next. Brian felt safe.

  Roman wasn’t safe. Sometimes she felt like she was in deep water with him, monsters circling and coming up from below. Lord, I don’t know if I should be friends with this man. He has only two friends—Talia Reisner and Jasper Hawley. Why is that? If this is a bad idea, let me know in a way I’ll understand. Please, Lord.

  She slept fitfully, dreaming of her mother looking out the kitchen window, her face pale with tension. And then it happened again, and all the fear came rushing back. With a cry, Grace sat up in bed. Trembling, body damp with cold sweat, she listened intently, half-expecting her father to come through the door.

  I’m in a hotel. It was a nightmare. Everything is all right now.

  She lay back down. Pulling the blanket up, she curled on her side. She’d had the nightmare before, many times, but that was years ago, when her aunt first brought her to Fresno. What had roused it tonight? The evening with Roman? Lord, please, don’t let it start up again where it left off. Please, God.

  GRACE, AGE 7

  Gracie sat at the kitchen table with her Little Mermaid coloring book open to a page with Ariel, Flounder, and Sebastian exploring sea rocks. Perplexed, she pointed at shapes on the page. “Mommy, what are these things?” Her mother went on peeling potatoes in the sink, her glance lifting to look out the window. Daddy would be home soon. Gracie needed to finish her picture quickly. If she did a good job, Daddy might smile. “Mommy?”

  “Oh, Gracie. What did you say?” Her mother rinsed her hands and dried them with a small towel. She glanced out the window again before looking over Gracie’s shoulder. “Those are sea anemones.” She tapped the picture. “That’s a spiny sea urchin. This is coral, and that’s seaweed.” She looked out the window again. Mommy’s expression made Gracie’s stomach tighten. Would Daddy come home mad again?

  “What color should they be?”

  “I don’t know, sweetie.” Mommy bit her lip and looked away again, distracted. “Can’t you remember what they looked like in the movie?” A car door slammed out front, and Mommy’s body gave a slight jerk. She stepped to the sink and looked out the window. Her breath came out. “Time to play hide-and-seek, Gracie.”

  “But I haven’t finished—”

  “Now!” Grabbing her arm, Mommy yanked Gracie off the chair and hauled her quickly to the front hall. “Daddy’s not feeling well again.” Leaning down, she spoke in a hushed voice, her eyes wild and darting to the front door. “Find your best hiding place and stay still and quiet as a little mouse until Mommy comes and finds you. Go on now.” The look on her mother’s face frightened Gracie so much she started to cry. Mommy hushed her. “Go! Hurry!”

  Gracie fled down the hall just as Daddy opened the front door. Daddy’s voice rumbled like a gathering storm. “Where were you this afternoon?”

  Gracie looked frantically for a place to hide.

  “I was here.” Mommy’s voice was high, frightened.

  “Liar!” Gracie heard another noise and Mommy’s sharp cry of pain. Daddy’s voice darkened. “I called, Leanne. Twice! You didn’t answer. Who were you with?”

  Gracie slid open the mirrored door of Mommy’s closet and ducked inside. She closed the door quietly, climbed over some pairs of shoes, and crouched in the back corner. She hugged her knees against her chest and made herself as small as she could.

  Daddy kept shouting and Mommy talked fast, pleading for him to listen. “I went grocery shopping, Brad. I worked in the back garden. I picked up Gracie at school. I was on the phone with—”

  Daddy shouted, “Shut up!” Glass shattered. Mommy cried out. Gracie heard a loud thump and covered her ears.

  After a moment, she lowered her hands, panting softly, heart pounding. Daddy was talking now, storm over, his voice so different from anything Gracie had heard before. Was he crying? He said something low and broken. “Leanne, honey, I’m sorry. Leanne . . . What have I done?”

  Gracie could hear Daddy moving around, pacing, sobbing. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?” When he started down the hall, Gracie froze in terror. She could barely breathe. He came into the bedroom where he and Mommy slept together. She heard dresser drawers opening, banging. Daddy made a moaning sound. “Where did you hide it, Leanne?
Where is it?” Gracie pressed back hard against the closet wall.

  The mirrored door banged open. Daddy’s black office shoes and gray slacks appeared. He took a box from the shelf and tossed it over his shoulder, then another. He let out a relieved breath and took something from a shiny wooden box. Metal slid against metal with a sharp snap, and her bladder emptied. She felt the warmth spread in her panties and onto the rug beneath her. A frightened whimper escaped, and Daddy froze. Gracie pressed back so hard, her bones hurt. Her father reached up and slid hangers along the pole until they were crushed together above Gracie’s head, revealing her hiding place.

  His face twisted, his cheeks pale and wet. Daddy didn’t look like Daddy. He stared at her, his mouth moving as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t. He closed his eyes tightly and stepped back; then he dragged the hangers of clothes back into place so she was hidden again. When he lowered his arm, Gracie saw the gun in his hand. He was shaking. She heard the closet door close again. She waited, listening to his footsteps go down the hall toward the living room.

  Gracie jumped at a loud bang from the living room.

  The doorbell rang, and she opened her eyes, staring into the darkness. It rang a second, then a third time. Someone knocked hard on the front door and called out, “Memphis Police. Open the door.”

  More voices outside, moving away from the house. Shouted orders.

  Shivering, Gracie listened, but didn’t move. She waited for Mommy to come and find her. Why was she taking so long? Would she be upset because Gracie had wet her pants? Scrubbing away tears, Gracie covered her head.

  Sirens sounded in the distance and came closer. She heard tires squeal. More shouts outside, silence inside. Something big hit the front door, and there was a crash. Footsteps entered quickly. Men talked in low voices. “Woman’s body in the kitchen. Man dead in the living room—.357 on the floor; looks like a suicide. Neighbor said there’s a little girl—Grace.”

  Stay still and quiet as a little mouse, Mommy had said, and so Gracie did.

  The closet door slid open, and a big man in black lace-up boots, baggy black pants with pockets, a thick vest with white letters, and a helmet pushed clothes aside. “Found her!” Flinching, Gracie pressed back again. Hunkering, the man smiled sadly. “It’s okay, Grace. You can come out now.” When she didn’t move, the man held out his hands, palms up. “Come to me. I won’t hurt you.”

  The officer had a deep voice like Daddy’s.

  When Gracie didn’t come, the man in black leaned in, slipped his big hands beneath her arms, and lifted her out. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She felt engulfed by his strength. “You’re safe, Grace. No one is going to hurt you.” He held her easily, his voice gentle. “I have a little girl about your age. Her name is Ellie.”

  Another black-garbed officer stood behind him, but turned away, speaking into a radio mounted on his shoulder. Gracie’s body shook like the last leaf of autumn clinging to a broken branch.

  “We’re taking you out of here, Grace. I want you to put your head on my shoulder and close your eyes tight.”

  Gracie twisted in his arms. “I want Mommy. Where’s Mommy?”

  The officer’s arm tightened beneath her, and she felt his hand cup the back of her head. “Close your eyes, honey. Just for a minute. Can you do that for me, Grace?”

  “I want Mommy.” Her voice quavered and tears came.

  The other officer took a pink parka with a hood from the closet. “Use this.”

  “Good idea.” The officer set her down and put the jacket on her. The officer zipped the jacket all the way to the top and pulled the hood up over her head. When she tried to push it back so she could see, he brushed her hands away. “Leave it.” He lifted her again.

  Carried down the hall in strong arms, Gracie felt the air change from warm to cold. When the police officer stepped down, Gracie knew she was outside the house. She peeked out from beneath the hood and saw police cars parked out front, red lights flashing. Two men pulled something on wheels out of a big white van. Mrs. Channing, the next-door neighbor, stood on the lawn, crying and hugging herself as she talked with another police officer.

  Gracie struggled. “Mommy!” She couldn’t see her anywhere. Where was she? “Mommy!”

  The officer lowered her to the ground. Hunkering in front of her, he held her by the arms. “You’re going to be okay.”

  “I want my mommy.”

  His eyes grew moist. “I know you do, honey. Your mommy and daddy wouldn’t want you to see them like this.”

  What did that mean? Tears poured down her cheeks. Men came and went from the house. Why were all these people here? Why wouldn’t the policeman let her back inside? Why didn’t Mommy come when she called? Why did Daddy have a gun? Why was Mrs. Channing crying and all bent over? Gracie tried to pull away, but the officer wouldn’t let go of her arms. She screamed for Mommy. Mommy was in the kitchen. She knew she was. The light was still on. Two men were standing in there. She could see them through the window. “Mommy!”

  Another van pulled up with big letters on the side. The side door slid open, and a woman got out quickly with a microphone and a man with a camera. The officer holding Gracie captive said a short, sharp word Daddy said when he was mad. He looked around. “Can someone give me a little help here?”

  Mrs. Channing hurried over. “I can take her to my house.” She took Gracie by the hand. “Come on, honey-child. I’ll make you some hot cocoa and read you a story. They’ll come get you in a little while.” Gracie thought she meant Mommy and Daddy would come, and left with Mrs. Channing willingly. When they went inside the house next door, Mrs. Channing asked if Gracie was hungry. Did she want some dinner? Some cookies? Did she want to watch TV? “Oh, honey, you’re wet.” Mrs. Channing looked ready to cry again. “I still have some of my daughter’s clothes. Come on, now. Let’s get you a nice warm bath.”

  It wasn’t Mommy and Daddy who came to get Gracie. It was a woman with dark hair, a stranger Gracie had never seen before. Mrs. Channing didn’t know her either, but took the business card from her hand and invited her inside. Before Gracie could understand what was happening, she found herself buckled in the backseat of the woman’s car. She tried to open the door, but it was locked. She twisted around in the seat, trying to claw her way to the back window as she screamed for Mommy. The woman talked in a calm voice as she drove, and Gracie’s house disappeared behind her.

  The night darkened as Gracie moved from a car to an office where another stranger, a gray-haired lady this time, told Gracie to sleep on the sofa. The woman covered her with a soft blanket and gently brushed the hair back from her face. “Just close your eyes and try to sleep.” The two women shuffled papers and talked in low voices. One made several phone calls.

  Gracie didn’t want to go to sleep, but awakened confused when the gray-haired lady put a hand on her shoulder. “We have a place for you.” She said a nice foster couple was waiting to meet her. What was a foster couple?

  “I want my mommy,” Gracie cried.

  The gray-haired lady sat on the sofa with her and put an arm around her shoulders. “I know you want your mommy, but she’s gone, honey. So is your daddy.”

  Gone? Gone where? “They’re at home.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Arnold are very nice people. They’re going to take good care of you for a few days. There are things for us to sort out. They love children. You’ll be safe.”

  Gracie yearned for Mommy, but every time she asked, Mrs. Arnold said Mommy had gone to heaven. She didn’t say where Daddy had gone. Gracie had bad dreams every night. She’d hear Daddy shouting and Mommy crying. Then other sounds and strangers everywhere. She hid in the closet and screamed for Mommy. Mrs. Arnold would slide the closet door open and lift her out and hold her and rock her. “You’re safe with us, honey. You don’t need to hide or be afraid anymore.” She’d tuck Gracie back into bed with the brand-new teddy bear the Arnolds had given her. “He’ll make you feel better.”


  One morning, Mrs. Arnold told her, “Your aunt Elizabeth will be here tomorrow, Grace. She’s your mother’s sister. She’s coming all the way from Fresno, California. Isn’t that wonderful? She’s going to take care of you.”

  Aunt Elizabeth didn’t look anything like Mommy. She was pretty, but she didn’t look happy. Or friendly. Mrs. Arnold and Aunt Elizabeth talked while Grace sat on the sofa, the stuffed bear in her arms. Scared, she kept her head down, but heard every word.

  “I don’t see the need for more talk.” Aunt Elizabeth spoke firmly.

  “But she’s been through a terrible ordeal, Miss Walker.” Mrs. Arnold sounded distressed.

  “Yes, and delaying will only make matters worse.” Aunt Elizabeth stood and shouldered her purse. She looked down at Gracie with bleak eyes. She faced Mrs. Arnold and extended her hand. “Thank you for looking after my niece until I could get here. I do appreciate it.”

  “She’s a perfect little angel.”

  “Come, Grace.” Aunt Elizabeth headed for the door. Opening it, she looked back. Her mouth tightened. “Time to go home.”

  Grace’s heart leaped. The bear clutched close with one arm, she ran to her aunt. Aunt Elizabeth didn’t take her hand, but walked ahead to a white car parked at the curb. She opened the back door, tossed Gracie’s small suitcase to the far side of the backseat, and gestured to Gracie. “Get in.”

  Gracie knew how to strap herself in. Aunt Elizabeth watched until the buckle clicked, then slammed the door. Mrs. Arnold said something, and Aunt Elizabeth faced her again. Finally, Aunt Elizabeth went around the front of the car and got into the driver’s seat. Without a word or backward glance at Gracie, she started the engine and drove down the street.

  Gracie banged her heels against the backseat in her excitement.

  “Stop that right now!” Aunt Elizabeth scowled into the rearview mirror.