Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace)

by K Anne Raines

  “Do you need anything?” he asked.

  “No.” The pain in her voice cut through the membrane surrounding his heart, making his insides hurt.

  Instead of asking a host of lame questions to fill the quiet, he waited for her move. After all, he did understand. Christophe wasn’t just another Chosen. He was a close friend—a brother. Quentin was beyond saddened by the death of the Chosen. He truly grieved him.

  A piece of Quentin’s spirit broke the day Christophe left his mortal body. The fact he would never see him again, in this life or the next, made his passing that much harder to accept. He could only imagine what Grace was going through. And because he could understand a little, it seemed reasonable he would feel the impulse to console her.

  “I’m not sure where you’re supposed to fit in to all of this, but…” she said, and then looked solemnly at her knotted hands as if lost in thought. “I’m sorry. I really don’t even know what to ask you.”

  Quentin had to force his arms back down as they automatically came up to envelop her. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  A small smile crinkled the edges of her luminous eyes when she brought her gaze back up to his. Remaining tears covered them like glass, mirroring almost his full reflection. Grace stood erect, but the pain in her eyes was a giveaway she was close to collapsing. Her sorrow was palpable. The pull to embrace her, to comfort her, rocked him and left him a little unsteady.

  “What about the bank?”

  “It’s important, but you can take a couple of days to mourn, Grace. The safe deposit box will still be there when we get there. Right now, you need time. Soon you and your family will have to meet with your grandfather’s estate attorney, and that’s going to be an enormous issue to deal with.”

  “Oh? How so?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

  “Did you not see the Gollums out there?” He hunched forward and rubbed his hands together, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he lisped evilly, “My precioussss …”

  Her laughter boomeranged up and down the hall. The infectious sound made Quentin laugh too.

  “True. I see what you mean,” she said, still chuckling a little. After a few quiet intakes of breath, she locked eyes with him. “Thank you, Quentin.”

  He was surprised at the premature gratitude. He hadn’t done anything to help her yet. Hadn’t saved her, taken away her pain—nothing. “For what?”

  “For being here and for caring for my grandfather.”

  “I was honored to be your grandfather’s friend. I loved him like a brother.”

  “And that is exactly why I’m thankful.”

  “Here,” he said, handing her a business card. “When you’re ready to go to the bank, call me. We shouldn’t wait any longer than next Saturday. In the meantime, if you need anything, you have my information.”

  “Okay. I should probably give you my info as well.” She turned toward the office.

  “No need.” She paused before clearing the doorway. “Your grandfather made sure I had all of that a while back.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  Quick footsteps brought their attention to the hallway that led to the foyer. A woman approached them, wearing a determined look that morphed into relief when she caught sight of them. “Oh, there you are, Grace. Are you ready to go home now? These shoes are killing my feet and I feel a headache coming on.”

  Grace sighed at the same time her shoulders rolled forward. “I’ll be right there, Mom.”

  “Okay, but don’t be too long. I’ll be in the car.” The woman gave Quentin a polite little nod before she turned to retrace her footsteps.

  Grace looked back to him apologetically. “I’m sorry, Quentin, I have to go.”

  “I understand.”

  “I’ll make sure to get a hold of you before next Saturday. It was really nice meeting you.” She extended her delicate hand. He took it gently and shook it.

  “It was nice meeting you too, Grace. I’ll see you soon.”

  It unnerved him to watch her go. He hoped she wouldn’t need a lot of time before going to collect the contents of the box, because he wasn’t sure if he could wait another week before seeing her again. After all, his purpose now was to protect her.

  Yeah, that’s it, he tried telling himself as he rubbed absently at the lingering burn of his seneschal band.

  A hazy glimmer of sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting geometric orange-red shapes behind Grace’s closed eyelids. She fumbled blindly along the top of her nightstand for her cell phone, desperate to check the time. Even though she made it through the night, she knew she should still be dead to the world. Through a partially opened eye, she saw it was only 6:07.

  Exasperated, she grabbed her extra pillow and covered her face, hoping to drown out both the sunlight and the disgustingly cheerful chirping of the birds. A pillow, however, couldn’t darken or drown out her thoughts. All night long, spinning round and round in her head was her grandfather’s death, his letter, her ungrateful family, her upcoming birthday, and now…how seriously hot Quentin was.

  She couldn’t get over the hard, steely stare of his eyes. The intensity of it seemed to see right through her—searching. Frustrated and unable to stop the wheels from turning, she relented and forced herself to get up. On top of her laundry basket at the foot of her bed was a pair of faded blue jeans and a red henley. She grabbed both of them and headed for the bathroom. The messy mound of her dark mahogany hair was still piled on the top of her head from the night before. Green eyes stared back at her, but were barely recognizable through her puffy red eyelids, as she tried focusing only on the mundane ritual of getting ready.

  Before she had a chance to leave her bedroom, the smell of fresh pancakes danced its way up to the top of the steps, beckoning her to the kitchen. Her growling stomach convinced her to heed its calling. From the kitchen’s entry-way, Grace watched as her mother flitted around making breakfast. A single eyebrow rose as she wondered what her mom was up to. “Are you feeling alright?”

  “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “Gee, Mom. Maybe it’s because you don’t do this.” She gestured with hands spanning the kitchen.

  The spatula her mom was using to flip pancakes hovered over the griddle as she stood unmoving. “Grace… you know I love you.”

  “Do I?” she asked. She’d known all she’d ever needed to know from every touch her mother gave her. Grace knew love had been a very small part of what her mother had felt toward her since the day her father walked out on them fifteen years before.

  “I hope you do.” Her mother slid several pancakes on a plate. “Here,” she said, placing the plate on the table. “You should eat something. You didn’t eat much yesterday.”

  Grace couldn’t help but wonder if breakfast was a ploy. The sting of her mother’s ambivalence for her over the years was too entrenched in her forethought for her to give her the benefit of the doubt. She’d given up trying to earn her mother’s love years before, and had built a wall of distrust and resentment around her heart to protect herself from the pain. Out of habit, she braced herself for the hurt that was inevitably coming.

  “The estate attorney called last night after you went to bed. He’s requesting we be at a meeting set for tomorrow afternoon,” her mother said through a mouthful of food.

  Grace knew better than to break the safety glass surrounding her heart. She was thankful the sting wasn’t as bad as last time. She was done trying to will her mother to love her. “What time?”

  “Two o’clock. It’s in downtown Bountiful at the attorney’s office.”

  “I’ll leave school early then and meet you there.”

  “School?” her mother asked in surprise. “I thought you’d take a couple more days off.”

  Originally, she hadn’t planned on going to school much this week. Knowing her mother had an agenda pushed her toward changing her mind. “I’m fine. This way, I’ve only missed a few days. I won’t get behind now.”


  “I could always go to the school and get your homework.”

  “I’m fine. I want to go to school.”

  “If you change your mind,” she started, but Grace’s hand lifted in a voiceless rebuttal, cutting her mother off. You just did change my mind, she thought, as she finished her breakfast.

  Just outside her bedroom door, she heard the chime of her cell phone. Hurrying to her nightstand, she slid her finger across the screen. “Hello?”

  “How are you doing?”

  The caring, familiar voice of her best friend was almost enough to make her start crying again. “I’m alright, Em. Did you guys just get home?”

  “Yeah, about ten minutes ago. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you, Grace.” Emily’s voice hitched with emotion, her compassion evident in the silence that followed.

  “It’s okay, honest. How were you supposed to know what was going to happen?” Grace asked, flopping backward on her bed, and stared at the blank white palette of her ceiling.

  “True, but I still feel bad.” Emily’s voice cracked. “I wasn’t even here for your grandfather’s funeral and it makes me sick to think you had to deal with your family alone.”

  “Well, actually, I wasn’t exactly alone.” Her toe tapped anxiously on the floor just thinking of Quentin.

  “Oh?”

  “Apparently my grandfather had a good friend I never met. An insanely hot friend. He showed up at the reception yesterday.”

  “Does he have a girlfriend?” Emily asked, pursuing her usual you-need-a-boyfriend agenda. Grace needed a boyfriend like she needed another pain-in-the-butt relative. No, thank you.

  Grace sat up on her bed, following the stitching of her comforter with a finger. “It’s not like that.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Her finger stopped its tracing. “Seriously. I have no clue if he has a girlfriend. He wasn’t there for me, he was there for my grandfather.”

  “Uh, okay…” Before Grace could speak up again in her own defense, Emily added, “So, what are you doing now? You up for some company and an iced coffee?”

  “I could definitely use some of both,” Grace said, reaching for the bag of candy that was still on her nightstand, then poured six candy-coated chocolates in the palm of her hand. “Do you want me to pick you up?”

  “Sure. Give me fifteen minutes. I have to wash the travel sludge off.”

  Grace tossed her head back and dropped the candy in her mouth. “In that case,” she said around the candy. “I’ll give you thirty.”

  “Gee, thanks, pig,” Emily said sarcastically.

  Evidently Mother Nature didn’t know one of the greatest men who ever lived had died. The weather was perfectly beautiful. The sky was a cloudless cerulean blue, punctuated by bright sunlight. Spring was officially here in Woods Cross, Utah.

  Her car was parked under the flowering Chinese fringe tree at the curb in front of her house. Grace’s heart swelled at the sight of it. She was even more thankful now for her silver ’67 Shelby GT than the day her grandfather gave it to her. She felt closer to him somehow just looking at it. They shared a love for American metal, but when he insisted on giving it to her for her seventeenth birthday, she had been confused. To this day, she’d never understood his giving it up, but was immensely grateful that he had entrusted her with it.

  Emily lived in a cul-de-sac at the end of a quiet street, lined on both sides with cookie-cutter houses. As she pulled in the driveway, Grace eyed Emily’s home and the neighboring houses. As usual, the sight provoked a surge of envy to pulse through her veins. It was hard seeing all the families, the sheer normalcy of it all. The fact that she couldn’t remember much of when her father lived with her and her mother made the envy harder to swallow. Some days it bothered her more than others. Today was one of those more bothersome days.

  The likely catalyst was burying the only person who had treated her like family. Or maybe it was her grandfather’s letter. Being reminded of her dad’s leaving dredged up old hurts. She forgave him for abandoning her years ago, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to come back so she could say it to his face. Now or ever.

  Grace honked the horn once, hoping Emily would hurry up. Being surrounded by all this suburban family sweetness made her a little nauseous, and all she wanted was to get out of there.

  From somewhere in the backseat, she heard the buzz of a text. She turned back around just as Emily bounded out her front door, bouncing all the way to the car, her dark high pony swinging back and forth with her exuberance. Absentmindedly, she placed the cell phone in the ashtray, concentrating on putting a mental block up before Emily got in the car. Somehow, she managed to do this with her. Grace couldn’t imagine what their friendship would be like today otherwise.

  As soon as Emily jumped into the passenger seat, Grace was greeted with a single-arm hug and a quick kiss on her cheek that smelled like strawberries and cream. “Ready?” Emily asked as she pulled away, her brown almond-shaped eyes searched Grace’s. Her eyes moved to Emily’s glistening gloss-coated lips before answering. “Abso-fricken-lutely,” she said, knowing something was up.

  Uncertainty continued to haunt Quentin after the funeral reception and clear into the next morning. Since the moment Christophe had died, he had been chock-full with it. The common denominator? Grace. Get it together, Q, he chided himself.

  Self-recriminating thoughts haunted him. This was the one time when he needed to be on his “A” game the most, and here he was turning into a total wuss and misplacing his “man” card.

  Guardians were made to protect the Chosen, so what the hell was wrong with him? She might be a female Chosen, but still.

  Even though being a blood descendant of Christophe made her special, the combination of being a female as well as a blood descendant of Christophe made her extraordinarily special.

  His relentless pacing wore another path in some poor, defenseless flooring. He stopped and took a deep, cleansing breath. Maybe this self-doubt crap was what had caused others to fail? Quentin shook himself of the thought as he resumed his pacing.

  Regardless of the reasons for past failures, he had to focus. And fast. He had to forget the doubt, forget the past, and remember who he was. What he was, more importantly … a Guardian. And not just any Guardian. Grace’s Guardian. She would need him more than any other he had protected before her.

  His shoulders squared with resolve as he paused. There was nothing left to mull over except being damn ready for whatever might be coming. Quentin rubbed the seneschal band that continued changing as Grace’s birthday drew closer. He felt the blood drain from his face as he was stricken with a sudden attack of anxiety at all the possible scenarios he could imagine threatening them in the coming days.

  Like the warm Utah sunshine, the coffee at Latté Da’s did a good job of bringing the younger crowd out in droves on early Sunday mornings. Grace noticed some other girls about her age making their way down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Silently she prayed the coffee shop wasn’t too busy yet.

  Grace parallel parked between an old beater and a nicer late model sports coupe. She preferred parking along Orchard Street, which was only a few buildings down from Latté Da’s, because it wasn’t nearly as busy and she’d rather not chance a scratch on the Shelby. She chanced a quick glance at Emily as she turned off the ignition, waiting for the outburst she knew would come. Emily hated that she always parked so far away from everything and inevitably would pout to be sure that Grace knew it. When Emily reluctantly moseyed out of the car, her exaggerated expulsion of breath pulled her shoulders nearly to her ears.

  Grace snickered. “The walk’s good for you.”

  “Good for you, maybe,” Emily said while holding out a foot sporting a sexy, strappy high heel. “But definitely not good for the feet.”

  She knew Emily didn’t do it on purpose, but every time she drew attention to her flashy heels, Grace couldn’t help but look down to the boring flats always on her own feet. Flats became an every
day essential in junior high when she shot past most of the girls and guys in height. What’s worse was she was still way taller than average, but only seemed to attract the shorter-than-average guys. All the guys that wouldn’t make her feel like a giant were into girls barely five feet tall. Girls like Emily. Grace knew it wasn’t fair to hate Emily for her perfect petite size, but sometimes she couldn’t help indulging in a secret I-hate-my-best-friend pity party. And enjoying it.

  From the corner of her eye, her gaze went from Emily’s sexy shoes to her shiny pink lips. With a deep breath, Grace pulled her shoulders back and focused on standing up straight like her mother nagged so often for her to do. Grace brushed off her irritation, and led Emily down the sidewalk by the elbow.

  Latté Da’s wasn’t full by any means, but there were just enough teens to make it feel busy. Grace breathed in deeply, thankful for the lack of coffee drinkers this morning. She didn’t feel like being upbeat, nor did she feel like talking to anyone but Emily. “You sure you’re up for this?” Emily asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” Grace pasted on a wan smile and followed her inside.

  When the door shut, a charged, buzz-like chatter swirled around them. Grace recognized most everyone in the place, with only a few exceptions. The chalkboard welcome sign just inside the door listed both the house specials of the day and the scheduled night’s entertainment, and she stopped to check it out. Every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night showcased different entertainment at the coffee shop, whether it was a poetry reading, a magic show, or singing. Something was always happening. Tonight? Emily’s boyfriend’s band, Distant Echo, was on tap. “Oh, look at that, Em. Tommy’s playing tonight.” Instantly, she eyed Emily’s lips. She knew it.

  Emily’s eyes bugged a little and her jaw nearly unhinged. “Well, look at that. He is,” Emily squealed. Grace hid her smile at Emily’s theatrics. Her best friend’s overdramatic expressions were part of her charm, and she’d learned to not only expect them, but usually found them entertaining enough to sometimes provoke them, like now. She’d also come to learn what Emily’s choice of lip gloss flavor meant. Strawberries and cream signified a happy day, happy meaning it involved Tommy somehow. “You should come with me tonight,” Emily went on. “You need the break.”