Traces of Guilt

by Dee Henderson

  Coming back to Carin, Grace had taken a long step off the edge at the deep end of the pool, Josh thought while helping her into the vehicle.

  “You shouldn’t feel that sorry for me, Josh. I could have told you back then.” She was leaning her head back against the seat as he climbed in the driver’s seat, and he knew she said more than she realized.

  “Somehow I don’t think you had it in you at the time,” he said gently. “And sorry isn’t exactly the word I would use.”

  He noticed she’d started crying again but put his attention on the road ahead rather than comment. He finally said, “You like chocolate ice cream? I might have some tucked away in the freezer.”

  “Sure.”

  She’d cry, eat a bowl of ice cream, watch a movie, probably cry some more. It would be an evening he wouldn’t likely forget, but it struck him as what she most needed. The stress of being here had to be monumental for her.

  “We’ll watch a movie, have supper, then ice cream for dessert, and you’ll stop thinking quite so hard. I can hear your mind whirling all the way over here, Grace.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “What am I thinking?”

  “In a minute you’re going to be thinking about red rabbits, because I’m going to tell you a story you won’t be able to resist—about pink elephants and red rabbits and a great big green circus tent.”

  Her reply was a bit wobbly when she said, “Really? What happens?”

  “The circus comes to town,” he began, “and the pink elephants escape by pulling the green circus tent right over on top of them.”

  “Chased by red rabbits, no, blue rabbits. That’s a better story.”

  “Blue rabbits, there’s an image. Then what?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know.” She wiped a hand across her eyes. “It’s been a bad, very bad, no good day,” she muttered, trying to quote a children’s book title. “And I’ve got a headache.”

  “I just bet you do,” he said in sympathy, his hand reaching over to hers. “How about telling me of a day that was the opposite of this one. A very good, extraordinary day.”

  “My Angel made me breakfast for my birthday.”

  The way she smiled satisfied him that whatever she was thinking about was a good memory. He hoped it wasn’t a guy she was calling her angel. “What did you have?”

  “A blueberry bagel with cream cheese, orange juice, strawberries, and some more blueberries.” Grace sighed. “A nice breakfast.”

  “You want breakfast stuff tonight for our meal?”

  “Sugared cereal? Like Cocoa Puffs?”

  “Hmm, I’ve got oatmeal.”

  She made a face, and he laughed. “You still prefer your oatmeal in oatmeal cookies, I expect.”

  “I remember your mother made the best cookies,” she said wistfully.

  “She does. We’re invited over there for dinner tomorrow night. She loves company, and I bet she’ll fix us a batch of oatmeal cookies if I told her you requested it. You could take some back to the camper with you.”

  “That sounds nice. I have good memories of your mom.”

  “We Thanes don’t mind sharing her.”

  They arrived at his home, and he came around to help her from the truck. They followed a ribbon of solar lights up to the front door. Steam rose on the lake in the cool evening. He stopped to show her. “I bet you don’t see views like this in Chicago.” The water shimmered and caught the moon rising just over the trees.

  “Oh, Josh, it’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Like a picture painted just for me.”

  “Maybe it is, Grace,” he said quietly. “It’s easy to imagine our Father saying, ‘I think my daughter Grace should see something truly lovely this evening,’ and arranging that specifically with you in mind.” He didn’t know if she thought much about God anymore. That would be another layer of sadness if her childhood had robbed her of that too.

  She didn’t respond except to whisper, “Thank you.”

  She took a couple of steps back down the path to where the view of the lake was more expansive, and he followed a step behind her. It was a peaceful night, still and beautiful, the sounds in the moonlight beginning to chorus, an owl calling close by.

  Josh wondered if Grace would agree to a visitor once she was back in Chicago. He wasn’t about to let her disappear from his life for another dozen years. Not now that he knew what she was dealing with. If ever a woman needed a safe friend, he thought, it’s this one. He would be that, one way or another. He’d nudge his way back into her life and figure out what he could do to help. Christmas was coming, a reason to visit.

  Back when she was a kid, had she ever risked telling anyone what was happening? Ann had said no when he asked her, but he wondered if Grace might have tried but hadn’t been believed. The implications of that possibility cut like a sharp blade through him.

  She’ll be getting cold. Josh went over and caught her hand. “Come on, Grace.” He led her up onto the porch, opened the door, and helped her inside.

  “Josh?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you like kids?”

  “Love them,” he replied promptly as he hung up the jacket she’d worn.

  “Truly?”

  “What? I can’t be good with kids and like the outdoors?”

  “Then why aren’t you married, raising a family?”

  His ability to follow her train of thought wasn’t improving. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he quipped, one eyebrow raised over a grin.

  She gave him a look he didn’t need to interpret.

  “Okay, so that was the quick answer-in-the-moment. My brother, Will, probably gets there first with Karen, has a bunch of grandkids for Mom and Dad to enjoy. But I figure Gabriel and I are going to get there eventually. I like kids. I like tossing a ball around, putting worms on hooks, being lifeguard when they splash around in the lake.”

  “So you’d settle down?”

  “It’s no doubt in the realm of possibility that I might grow up that much someday. Not that I’m in any rush.”

  She smiled. “Now that sounds more like you.”

  “I’m the youngest. I’ve got time to consider matters. But I do like kids. They get to have most of the fun in life.”

  “You sound like you mean it.”

  “I do. This house is designed so I can build on another section when I need the room for a family.” That was true enough—he actually did plan the design around the idea of having a wife and kids one day, though he’d kept that to himself.

  “Where are your dogs?” she wondered, looking around.

  He could handle that turn in the conversation. “Probably sleeping in the living room on their sofa. We have a deal—they get one piece of furniture in the house, and I don’t complain about how they laze around on it, sometimes with their feet in the air.”

  Grace laughed—shaky, but it was a laugh.

  “Through there.” He gestured toward the living room. Sure enough, the dogs were there and stirred themselves enough to check out who it was, then went back to resting their heads on their paws. Grace went over and stroked their backs.

  The people couch was still neatly arranged with pillows and his mother’s comforter. “Make yourself at home, Grace. There are photos on the walls and movies on the shelf, so feel free to browse while I find us some food.”

  “I’m not much for eating right now, Josh.”

  “You can have something simple with me then—take a few bites to be polite. Go wander. I’ve got some pictures of the lake you’ll enjoy.”

  He deliberately left her on her own and headed into the kitchen. He started coffee, reflected a moment, and heated water for tea in case that would sound better to her. She needed to eat, so something that would tempt her lack of an appetite.

  He opened cabinets and considered options, opened the refrigerator, and finally settled on fixings for a simple meal. He listened to Grace moving around the living room, recognized the sound of the floorboards as she walked over to the s
helves where he had family photos displayed, movies and books stacked. He heard the fireplace doors swing open. Good. She needed the warmth. He’d left it banked, but it should kick back to a good blaze when he tossed on another log.

  When he walked into the living room carrying a tray, Grace was curled up on the couch with a movie cued up to the opening credits, a book in her lap. He recognized one from the library, a retrospective on bridges and how they were engineered. “What did you settle on for a movie?” he asked as he put the tray on the coffee table.

  “American Sniper.”

  “A guy movie? A war movie?”

  “It’s a lot like Will’s experience, isn’t it?”

  “He refuses to watch it with me, though he’s got a copy of the film. From the little he’s said, I think his experience was more IEDs and exploding mortar rounds than sniper fire, though I’ve seen that thousand-yard stare at times when he’s lost in a memory. Why this one?”

  “Maybe a reminder my days aren’t so bad now. No one’s shooting at me.”

  “I suppose it’s all relative.” He handed her two aspirin and a cup of tea. “Take these if you haven’t already had something for the headache.”

  “I haven’t.” She swallowed the aspirin, sipped the tea. She looked with mild interest at the tray he set on the table. “What are we having?”

  “Chicken salad with grapes and pecans, orange slices, and some kind of white soft cheese on crackers. The cashews are if you don’t like the other choices. If you give this a try, I’ll fix popcorn for the movie.”

  “Sounds like a bribe to me.” But she picked up a plate, served herself a small helping of the salad.

  He added two logs to the fire, stoked it back to life. He dimmed the lights for the movie and to better enjoy the fireplace. He dropped a box of tissues on the table in case she needed them and took a seat beside her. “That headache is killing you,” he mentioned kindly, looking into her face.

  She rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. I hope the aspirin kicks in soon.”

  “What were you talking with Ann about that made you cry?”

  She shook her head. Okay. Not going there tonight. He considered her movie choice. “You sure you wouldn’t want something else, like maybe Captain America in a merely fictional war?”

  “Nope, this one.”

  “Okay, let’s start the movie,” he said, picking up his plate. “It’s going to be the oddest date I’ve ever had.”

  She picked up the remote. “It’s not a date.”

  He took a bite of the chicken salad, then said, “I invited you over, and you came. You’re drinking my tea, eating my food, and hogging the most comfortable pillows on the couch. What else is needed?”

  “A date doesn’t feel sorry for me.”

  “Good point.” He snagged one of the few pillows she wasn’t using, propped his feet on the table. He caught her glance. “We’ll try this again tomorrow night. Maybe I won’t be feeling sorry for you then.”

  She smiled slightly. “Okay.”

  “Mom swears my chicken salad is as good as hers.”

  “You made it?”

  “I’m a surprisingly good cook, and not just for things that are headed to my grill.”

  He smiled when she went back for another helping a few minutes later. He’d get popcorn in her tonight, maybe a piece of pie. She needed the carbs.

  She was silently crying again. Josh leaned over to pull the box of tissues closer to her reach, leaned his head back against the couch cushion. She had so much to be sad about, and the tears surfaced whenever she gave herself a moment to think. It was probably as good a movie to cry through as any. War was depressing, and his brother had volunteered for six years. Josh could appreciate Will’s sacrifice while accepting his own choice not to volunteer. He himself didn’t carry around such bad memories, something he was grateful for. He’d lived a mostly stress-free life, and he didn’t apologize for it. But he could appreciate the fact others didn’t get that luxury. Grace, most of all . . .

  When he realized Grace wasn’t going to stop crying, he reached for her hand, held it lightly in case it made her at all uncomfortable. But she left it there. He could provide food, hold her hand, and think up enough “non-dates” that she might eventually get through an evening without crying. And if his heart didn’t break sometime during the process, that would be a good thing too. He was close to thinking he’d rather take a bullet than watch her in pain like this.

  “Josh?”

  He tipped his head her way. “Yeah?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You are a strangely honest man.”

  “One of my many quirky and likable characteristics.”

  “Seriously, Josh. Thank you.”

  He tightened his hand around hers. “I am glad to have you back here, Grace, no matter the circumstances. Never doubt that.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  He turned back to the movie so she wouldn’t see his own tears. She had such sad eyes. She had been the best part of his childhood, yet what he’d had was a mirage of the truth, and his heart ached tonight at the realization.

  Evie Blackwell

  Evie waited until Josh and Grace had disappeared down the road, until the truck’s engine was a faint echo and the night insects were humming again, before she said, “Ann, I’m so sorry about your day. Even sorrier it was Grace’s too. If that woman doesn’t splinter into pieces in the next few weeks, I’ll be stunned.”

  “I’m afraid I see the same thing. I’ll call her doctor tomorrow, get Rachel down here for the weekend.”

  It was getting colder, but the fire was throwing out enough heat to make it tolerable. “You ever have a more difficult time than today?” Evie asked, curious.

  “The day the nation’s VP was nearly killed would be right up there. But this one rips my insides more.”

  “Is she ever going to be okay?”

  “Eventually,” Ann replied, leaning forward to toss another log onto the fire. “She’s got friends around her who won’t let it be otherwise. I’ve known several survivors—Ruth Bazoni, Shannon Bliss are two. It will be even harder for Grace, though, because it was a family member.”

  “Yeah.” Evie sighed. “Some days I hate being a cop, and yet at the same time I’m grateful I can stop guys like this when we can find them.”

  “Key point being ‘when we can find them.’ We mostly find their victims first . . . and too often only the victim.”

  “You should call Paul.”

  “He’s on his way—he’ll be at the airport in about an hour. Our state attorney general needed some of his time, so Paul flew south with him. They’ll drop him off at the airport here, then fly the AG on to Springfield.”

  “Good.”

  “Our original plans were to fly down together Friday and spend the weekend here, so he’s just moved it forward a few days. And you’re right—I do need him.”

  Evie turned to better see Ann. “You like being married, don’t you?”

  Ann considered the question for a moment. Evie sat up, arms across her knees. Ann finally answered, “I wouldn’t trade it for not being married.”

  Evie found that response revealing. Ann had been single into her forties. Evie still had a few more years before she’d be at that point. She didn’t feel the emotions, the burden, of this case like Ann did, but Evie knew if she stayed in the job long enough, there were going to be situations that would be just as personal for her. There would be days she, too, needed someone to lean on. She just wasn’t sure if Rob Turney was that guy.

  She lay back on the blanket, propped her feet up on the log again. It had been a truly miserable day. Guys like Grace’s uncle corrupted an entire community. This would echo through the town for years. People would wonder who else the man might have hurt. Evie was glad she wouldn’t be living in Carin. Leaks about the case would happen, bits would be put together, and the truth would filter out. If it was proved that Kevin A
rnett had abducted and killed the Dayton girl, speculations about Grace would naturally surface as a result. How would Gabriel handle those questions? Evie thought her job was hard, but his was brutal by comparison.

  Not for the first time, Evie thought about why she’d prefer to marry someone other than a cop. Two cops, both with days like this, there wouldn’t be any room to breathe. She needed someone who didn’t carry these kinds of troubles home with him. “Ann?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Tell me to stop thinking.”

  Ann chuckled. “You could say the same to me. It’s a night for it.”

  Evie went back to studying the stars. Spread out above her, they filled the night sky. She considered praying, but what was there to say? God, I don’t know what to do with my future? She’d been having that conversation with Him for the last four years. A few decisions on the edges had been made, but nothing seemed like a certain direction.

  She knew God was simply letting her have time to think, to decide what it was she really wanted. That was the pleasure of being His daughter. Within wide boundaries, she could choose the path, and God would be fine with her decision.

  “You’re still thinking too hard,” Ann commented, looking over with a smile.

  “Ever been so uncertain about something that you ended up not deciding at all?” Evie asked.

  Ann didn’t say anything for a long beat. “I’m fine with the future looking like today. That’s a decision of its own.”

  Evie looked over at Ann. “I don’t want things to change.”

  Ann shrugged. “That’s a decision. Don’t knock it. Oftentimes it’s the right one too.”

  “Why would I want things to change?” Evie agreed.

  “It doesn’t eliminate answering the questions, since change keeps coming whether you want it to or not. But if there isn’t a reason for a change, why do it? I lived a lot of years content with life, perfectly fine with having the future look like the present.”

  “And then . . . ?”

  “Paul showed up. It’s not easy, that transition to being married. It can be a disconcerting shift in day-to-day life, but it becomes an ‘at home’ place of its own, if it’s a wisely chosen marriage.”