Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace)

by K Anne Raines

  “Maybe,” Grace said.

  Emily smiled. “Maybe you should.” She waggled her eyebrows wickedly and swiveled around with a flick of her dark ponytail, narrowly missing swiping Grace’s nose with it as she stepped up to the counter to place her order.

  As Emily went into a long dissertation about her coffee to the barista, the voices all around Grace rang louder in her ears, and the floor seemed to tilt sideways. A panic fluttered inside her chest, and inexplicably her thoughts shifted to her birthday. Grace felt a heavy mantle of burden settle on her shoulders. The letter her grandfather wrote her had left her nervous. Beyond nervous. She realized she was about to have a panic attack in the middle of a coffee shop when a sudden feeling overcame her, a certainty that something serious was going to happen within the next couple of weeks. Her breath caught again, and her vision pixelated into a purple haze.

  “Grace!”

  Emily’s raised voice brought her attention back to Latté Da’s. Her vision cleared and she pulled herself together as she turned her face toward Emily’s, wondering at the harshness of her tone. “What?”

  The confused expression on Emily’s face made her look like one of those cartoonish, doe-eyed Bratz dolls. A pinch at Grace’s elbow drew her gaze downward. Emily’s fingers were wrapped tightly around her arm, practically cutting off the circulation as she gave her a sharp tug. “Are you okay?” Emily asked. “I’ve been trying to get your attention.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.” Grace shook her head slightly, focusing on not scrambling her equilibrium any further. “Just a lot on my mind.”

  “We don’t have to come back tonight, really. I just thought it’d be fun.” Emily maintained her grip on Grace’s arm, the painful compression making her want to wince.

  “No, it’s fine. You’re right. I think I need a break.” Grace’s eyes went to Emily’s hand, hoping she would open it and let her go. She was fine.

  Concern drew Emily’s brows together as she peered at Grace, then her expression cleared as she switched gears, obviously determined to lighten the mood. “What do you want? My treat.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. I want to. So, what’ll it be?” Emily pulled her lips into a wide smile, showing off perfect white teeth.

  Grace tried her best to talk around the panic-filled lump lodged in her throat. “Okay.” The girl behind the counter grabbed the notepad on the side of the register, no doubt thinking Grace’s order would be just as complicated as Emily’s. “I’ll have a sixteen-ounce iced pumpkin spice latte. Two straws, please.” Grace held up two fingers. The girl released the breath she held and clacked her fingers quickly across the cash register.

  The instant Emily got her drink, she quickly made her way toward the platform at the back of the coffee house with Grace in tow, Grace’s nearly passing out the moment before already forgotten. She smiled faintly at Emily’s back, relieved that her friend’s short attention span ensured that she wouldn’t have to endure unwanted attention.

  It took Emily all of two seconds to find the table Tommy was sitting at, which didn’t surprise Grace that he was there too. He and a blond guy Grace didn’t know leaned across the table toward each other, deep in what appeared to be a heavy conversation.

  “Are these seats taken?” Emily asked in her best flirty voice.

  Grace didn’t recognize the other guy until he and Tommy looked up to reply. “Hey, baby!” Tommy reached for the empty chair to his left and pulled it next to his own. As soon as Emily sat, he grabbed her chin with his thumb and finger and pulled her in for a lingering kiss. Grace winced. Way too much PDA, in her opinion.

  “Yum. Strawberry, my favorite,” she barely heard Tommy say. Grace almost gagged.

  Not that she hung out with guys a lot, but she couldn’t help but wonder why these two were out for coffee so freaking early in the morning, and together no less. She tried turning her attention elsewhere since Tommy and Emily weren’t finished with their morning greeting.

  “Geesh, you two. Get a room,” the blond guy scoffed.

  “Right?” Grace couldn’t resist a grin as she nodded at him in agreement.

  He glanced up at her. “I don’t think we’ve ever really met. I’m Zeke.” She steeled herself as she took his offered hand briefly, before settling into the chair to his left. His hand was so soft and warm, she had to fight the compulsion to turn it over just to see if it was perfectly manicured as well.

  “Grace. Nice to meet you.” His touch didn’t give her the heebie-jeebies, so she figured it was safe enough.

  So this was the new guy who’d moved to town a couple of months ago. The one all of the girls at Woods Cross High wouldn’t stop talking about. Grace studied him for a second as he sat back in his chair, completely at ease. He wore his streaked blond hair a little longer than most other guys, especially in front where it fell over surprisingly deep blue eyes lined with thick black eyelashes that most girls would kill for. The most appealing part about him though, was how tall he obviously was. Tommy looked short next to him, and he wasn’t. Yep, she could see why he was a hot topic.

  “I’m glad you’re finally talking to me,” Zeke said.

  Grace was puzzled and glanced at Emily for backup, but she was still too engrossed in her boyfriend’s lips. Grace shook her head in mock disgust. Zeke sat, still considering her, apparently waiting for her response.

  “Zeke, right?” Grace said.

  He pointed a finger at his broad chest. “Zeke.”

  Grace smiled. “Well, Zeke, I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’ve seen you around school, but we have no classes together and you’ve never tried talking to me.” She stared back at him, playing with the straws in her coffee.

  “No classes, huh?”

  “None.”

  Zeke’s grin turned impish. “You sure about that?”

  “Well, let’s see.” Touching a finger to her chin, Grace contemplated in playful thought. “Yep. I’m sure.”

  “I hate to pop your confidence bubble, Miss Grace, but we most certainly do have a class together.”

  “Okay fine, I’ll bite. Enlighten me, Obi-Wan.”

  “You’re going to feel real stupid, you know,” he teased, cocking his head sideways.

  “I’m still waiting.” Grace pursed her lips, determined not to smile.

  Zeke was fun. And cute. Why hadn’t she talked to him before now?

  “Third period,” he prompted, pulling her from her quiet ponder.

  “Keyboarding.” Her reply was a statement rather than a question. He nodded slowly. “We don’t have Keyboarding together.” Inside she wondered how the heck she could have missed him.

  “I’m the one banging on the keys two rows ahead of you.”

  Grace tapped her fingers in a rolling motion on the table, tilting her head sideways in curiosity. “That’s you?”

  “One and the same.” He smiled.

  “Well, Zeke, I hate to burst your confidence bubble, but did you happen to notice how many people are banging keys around me, even two rows ahead of me?”

  “Oh, that? Yes, well that has been a problem for sure.” His face split into a huge grin.

  Watching Zeke’s face light up with a smile pulled Grace’s mouth up as well. She couldn’t hold it down, laughter spilled from her lips. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, wiping away the pooling tears.

  “How about I make sure you see me tomorrow?” he asked in a husky, flirtatious tone.

  Despite herself, Grace couldn’t keep from peeking at him from under her lashes. “I’ll make sure to talk to you then.”

  The teasing banter had caused her cheeks to warm. Self-conscious, she turned away, looking everywhere but at Zeke. With no one left to safely look at, she pulled her hand up from her lap and focused on her dark-painted nails instead.

  Apparently winding down the PDA, Emily and Tommy finally pried their lips apart and contributed to the conversation, taking some of the heat off Grace and lightening
the mood. The mindless chatter and laughter that followed had Grace’s heart beating easier.

  It was nice.

  Momentarily able to put her grief aside, she didn’t think about her grandfather’s death. Surprisingly, Grace found herself looking forward to coming back later that night.

  After Grace dropped Emily off, she felt like a nap. Only she didn’t want to go home. She had a feeling her mother wouldn’t give her any space, and the last thing she needed was a hovering mother. The suffocating motherly concern would be simply masking what the lack of space really was about—the appointment with the estate attorney. A.K.A., a ploy.

  A small part of Grace hoped her mother wasn’t putting on a show. Another small, more cynical, part of her reminded her she was an idiot if she was seriously thinking otherwise.

  Grace shook herself, hoping to rid herself of any and all thoughts of estate attorneys and ulterior-motive-driven mothers. Tomorrow would bring enough stress and worry. Today, she just wanted to forget.

  Grabbing for her purse, she searched for her cell. Instead, her fingers brushed against the key her grandfather left her. Suddenly, she knew exactly where she could go for some peace and quiet, and hooked a right on Montgomery to head in that direction.

  The large white stucco manor still looked the same. Vines continued to grow up every outer wall like embracing arms. The fringe trees still stood, rooted at their posts, and the green-blanketed lawn was as luxurious and welcoming as ever. Grace wasn’t sure what she expected to see when she pulled up. The house was as she had left it the day before, except now it was dark and closed up. Almost sad-looking, really. No open windows. No doors propped wide. No grandfather waving in welcome under the pillared veranda.

  It was lonely, like her.

  Tears pricked like needles at her eyes. No longer able to hold them back, she let the results of her grief slide down her face. In the quiet of the front seat, she wondered when her heart would stop hurting. If ever. Not able to imagine that day, Grace grabbed her stuff and got out of her car. With the newly inherited master key, she let herself in and put her purse, cell phone, and sweatshirt on the round table in the center of the foyer.

  Grace closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, comforted that the house still smelled the same—like lemon furniture polish and the woodsy musk of her grandfather’s aftershave. It smelled like home. The beat of every memory from inside the house pulsed about her in time with her own beating heart.

  Unbelievable sadness brought her to her knees. Desperation kept her there. She would give anything to hear his voice again, to be able to tell him how much she loved him, and what he’d meant to her.

  After crying herself breathless and creating snot past the point of being able to inconspicuously wipe it away with her sleeve, she pushed herself to her feet in search of a tissue. Tears dried, snot wiped, she remembered the text she’d received in Emily’s driveway.

  Mom: What time are you coming home?

  With a heavy sigh, she was thankful she’d turned right on Montgomery. Her mother was the last person she would turn to for comfort. Not that her mother would give it. Grace was vulnerable and couldn’t deal with the emotional distance her mother had kept between them most of her life.

  What Grace truly needed was someone who understood, someone who could offer a little empathy. From the text app, she switched to the phone app with a swipe of her thumb, and thanked her lucky stars she had taken the time to add his contact information.

  “This is Quentin.”

  “Hi, Quentin, it’s Grace,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you, I—” A very unwelcome sob stuck her words to the back of her throat.

  “Uh, Grace. Are you alright?” he asked, in a tone that actually sounded genuine. And sincerity was exactly what she was looking for.

  “I’m fine.” She sniffed noisily. Lovely, she thought. That’s attractive. “I just—”

  “Where are you?”

  “My grandfather’s.” She nearly choked on the words.

  “Can I come over?”

  “You don’t have to. I just didn’t know who else to call.”

  “When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

  She didn’t expect the question. “Uh, I ate pancakes about six thirty this morning.” Snork. How embarrassing.

  “How about I grab us some lunch? We can eat and talk, or you can talk and I’ll listen.”

  She didn’t expect him to drop everything to run on over and console her, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be alone. The only answer? Concede.

  Her shoulders rolled forward as she released a large breath. “Okay,” she said.

  “Alright. I’ll see you shortly.”

  “Thanks, Quentin.”

  Good-byes ended the call and had Grace running to the bathroom. Her eyes were already puffy and red-rimmed, and her nose was slightly swollen and chafed from blowing and rubbing the past several days. “It doesn’t really matter,” she told her reflection. “You looked worse yesterday.”

  Grace blew her nose again, then made her way to the family room, flipping the switch to the gas fireplace. The warmth of the fire called to her as she kicked off her flats and settled among the overstuffed pillows she grabbed from the couch. She sat staring into the flames as she waited, their flickering dance almost mesmerizing. Her body began to relax, and she leaned her head back.

  A firm knock against the front door woke her from her slumber. For a second, she forgot where she was. She sat up and shook her head in confusion, willing the fog to clear. On bare feet, she rushed to the door and peeked through the peephole.

  On the other side, she saw the distorted image of a huge bag of Chinese takeout and Puffs Plus, completely hiding the man behind them. He’s a saint, she thought, as she opened the door and gratefully accepted the tissue box Quentin held out with a knowing grin. And still insanely good-looking. Good God!

  A smile played at the corners of his mouth, touching the depths of his steel-gray eyes. He made a big display of the takeout. “Where do you want this?”

  “Probably the kitchen. Unless you want to just pass the boxes back and forth until we’re full?”

  “Funny.” Gently, he brushed past her and walked to the kitchen, straight for the cabinets and drawers that held the plates and silverware, grabbing what they needed.

  “You obviously know your way around this kitchen,” she observed.

  “That I do.” He then grabbed napkins from the cabinet above the refrigerator.

  “Because…you’ve known my grandfather for years?”

  Hands full, he turned to Grace. “Yes. Where do you want to eat?”

  “How ’bout the family room? I was lying in front of the fire.” Grace eyed him, wondering quite literally where he had been all her life. A stupid thought in truth, since she was only seventeen. “Since you clearly have things under control, I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

  As if enjoying some inside joke, he smiled. “That I do. But a fire, Grace? You do realize we live in Utah and it’s pretty warm right now?”

  “You know what they say about those who can’t take the heat,” Grace said jokingly.

  “Trust me. I can take the heat. I’ll meet you in the family room next to the fireplace. You know…where the heat is.”

  Grace came back to a note sitting in front of the fireplace and no Quentin.

  Meet me out back. Q

  So much for being able to take the heat, she mentally scoffed, and walked through the double doors leading to the backyard oasis. Utah was known for its dry, arid desert; Morgan Manor was known for its views of distant stony canyons. It was beautiful.

  Large blossoming fruit trees lined the path to the pillared gazebo where Grace expected to find him. From where she stood, all she could make out was the bell-shaped roof of the gazebo. Grace took in the scents of cherry and apple blossoms as she followed the path created with slabs of natural slate. The smell was more amazing than the views, in her opinion.

  Not seeing Quentin under
the gazebo, she continued down the path to its right and brushed aside a low-hanging branch to reveal a grassy clearing before her. Her eyes widened with surprise at the picnic setup Quentin had managed to pull together in the few minutes she was in the restroom.

  In the middle of the grassy knoll, Quentin sat on top of a blanket, take-out boxes scattering the center of it. His shoulders bunched under his blue button-down shirt and his hair fell forward as he reached for the boxes, opening their tops. Still not noticing her, he mumbled to himself and ran his hand through his hair, pushing it from his eyes. Grace quietly watched him with a smile, taking in the Quentin view. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbow. On his left wrist he wore a watch, and a thick leather bracelet on his right. She never noticed jewelry on a guy before, but on him, it looked totally hot. Her stare remained fixed on him as he pulled his leg up, to rest his elbow on his knee. Slowly, he pulled a napkin between his fingers. A fluttering in the pit of her stomach took her by surprise as she remained mesmerized by his hands

  A soft breeze ran over her, and for a second, the smell of water and fresh night air enveloped her. Closing her eyes, she breathed it in. When she opened her eyes again, Quentin was turned around and watching her with a grin. The flutters instantly died down. She felt stupid, but seeing the picnic had her smiling back.

  “Hungry?” he asked, still smiling.

  Grace sat down across from him on the red gingham blanket, unable to contain a wide, toddler-like grin as she crossed her legs Indian-style and reached for a plate.

  Quentin nodded toward the plate in her hand. “I would have already had your plate dished, but I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat.”