Saving Gracie

by Terry Lee

  “Hey, Sunshine.” Adam walked in with a steaming mug of coffee. “Need aspirin? Bloody Mary? Barf bag?”

  “Don’t make me hurt you,” Grace croaked out, her head still on fire. “What…happened?”

  “I have no idea.” Adam sat on the bed, creating an earthquake rumble through Grace.

  “I didn’t do anything weird, did I?” Grace sat up, slower this time, raising her knees to help support her throbbing head.

  “You mean besides burping your ABC’s? Adam shook his head.

  Grace opened one horribly bloodshot eye and aimed it as best she could at Adam. “What?” she gasped, horrified.

  “Just kidding about the ABC’s,” Adam said. “But the belching got pretty loud.” Adam handed Grace her coffee.

  “Ohhhh nooo.” Grace struggled to hold the mug, which required both hands. She looked down at her pajama top, closed one eye and tried to focus. Two buttonholes threaded through one button, making one side of her pajamas scrunch up at an odd angle.

  She pointed to the rumbled top. “Did I do this?”

  Adam nodded. “Don’t blame me. You insisted on dressing yourself.” He scratched his head. “So…what did happen last night?”

  “I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch yesterday. My stomach was empty.” Grace tried focusing on lifting the coffee to her lips without spillage. “I sat with that little girl most of the day…Cherry.”

  “You’re spending a lot of time with her.”

  Grace handed the mug to Adam and rubbed her eyes. How could eyelashes hurt? “You wouldn’t believe this child’s life.” She eased out of bed and old lady shuffled to the bathroom. “The police and CPS have been out twice in the last six months. Who knows what’s really going on in that house.”

  She passed the mirror and froze. Raccoon-circled mascara eyes, finger-in-the-light-socket hair, lipstick smudged on her cheek; she had sunk to a new low. She leaned her throbbing head over the sink and gently splashed cool droplets of water on her face. “Not to mention Cherry’s father is in prison, if that’s even her father. Her mother is on welfare and she doesn’t know sign language. Can you believe it? She has a deaf child and can’t even sign.”

  Dabbing at her face with a fresh hand towel, she reached for her toothbrush. She brushed, gargled, and brushed again before attempting to run fingers through her tangled hair. She picked up her clothes from the night before and immediately threw them down, kicking them across the room. The smell of Mexican food…not good. She re-buttoned her pajama top, walked back into the bedroom and eased down on the twisted pile of covers.

  “Can’t the school do something?” Adam lay across the bed, leaning up on one elbow.

  “They’ve tried.” Grace retrieved a scrunchy from the bedside table and pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. “Ouch.”

  “Hair hurt?” Adam asked.

  She winced and closed one eye. “How did you know?”

  Adam offered an affectionate smile. “Lucky guess.”

  Grace blew out a breath, expelling heavy traces of tequila. “Cherry has horrible behavior problems and the district may send her to the state school in Austin next year. No one can handle her.” Grace rested her chin on her supported hand. “She’s only eight. Can you imagine sending Hannah off like that? I wish I knew what to do.”

  “Doesn’t sound like there’s anything to do,” Adam said.

  “There’s got to be something.” Grace tapped an index finger lightly on her chin, hesitant to go anywhere near her head. “I wish Mom were here. She’d think of something.”

  Adam laughed. “So, your mom is steak and I’m bologna?”

  “Oh God, do not mention food.” The thought of bologna almost made her heave. She massaged her throat, trying to relax the gag reflex. “You know what I mean.” She took a deep breath hoping extra oxygen would ease her nausea. “Remember all the research she did on Hannah? She always knew how to fix things.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Adam stuffed a pillow under his arm. “Hey, switching subjects, any chance you remember what we talked about last night?”

  Grace did a mental search of the few working parts of her brain. It didn’t take long. “Uh…no. Not really. What?”

  “I’ve got to go to Chicago next week. The firm wants to open an office in Beijing.” His thumb traced swirling patterns over the top of her hand. “We’ve got to meet with the head honchos to work out the details.”

  Grace freed her hand and pulled the covers up around her like a scared little kid. She hadn’t been left alone since her mother died. “For how long?”

  “Three, maybe four days…depends on how the meetings go,” Adam answered.

  “Can’t someone else go?”

  Adam cleared his throat and sat up. “Jared, Lindsay and I are going.”

  “Who’s Lindsay?” Jared, the CEO, she knew. She’d never heard of a Lindsay.

  “She’s the contract specialist Jared hired for the project. Lindsay Durham. And, of course, I manage the overseas markets.” He patted her knee. “You’ll be fine. Hannah and Riley will take care of you.”

  “Very funny.” Even though it so wasn’t. Was he being condescending or honest? But truthfully, could she be the adult? The parent? And who the hell is Lindsay?

  “It’s only three days. Four tops,” Adam reminded her.

  “When do you leave?” She clinched the covers tight under her chin. Adam, her security blanket, was going away. She didn’t like anyone messing with her woobie.

  “Tuesday morning, early.”

  “Should I take you to the airport?”

  Adam hesitated briefly and then smoothed the covers around her. “Uh, the company has a driver that’ll pick me up.”

  ~~~

  Grace showered. She looked better than she felt. Why had Adam let her get drunk? Yeah, she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, but still, he knew two was her limit. Her head seemed three times its normal size. Damn. Tequila-no mas. Ah yes, another Spanish term. One she should have remembered.

  Hannah slammed through the door just before noon. Grace grasped her forehead and used the kitchen counter to steady herself. She glanced at the clock. One hour. Two hours. Not four. No more Extra-Strength Tylenol yet. She plopped onto the nearest barstool and nibbled on a piece of wheat bread, hoping it would stay down.

  “What?” Hannah pointed to the bread, her brows knotted in confusion.

  Grace rubbed her stomach and signed “hurt,” hoping her facial features didn’t secretly sign “hangover.”

  Hannah placed a hand on Grace’s shoulder, her head tilted. “Okay?”

  Grace wrinkled her nose. “Mexican food,” she signed.

  Hannah hugged Grace. “Sorry.”

  Grace hugged back and waved away her daughter’s worried look. “How was your night?”

  Hannah’s eyes brightened. “Guess who?” She mimed, holding a phone receiver to her ear.

  “Brad Pitt?” Grace fingerspelled. She watched Hannah pull out a plate and deli-smoked turkey, Swiss cheese and mayo. Hannah slammed one, two, three. Make that four cabinet doors. Each slam thwacked against Grace’s skull like a wrecking ball.

  “Why always Brad Pitt?” Hannah looked at Grace like she’d grown a second head.

  Grace shrugged. “Cute.”

  Hannah shook her head. “He’s old.”

  “Who then?” Grace asked.

  Hannah rolled her eyes across the ceiling, her eyebrows rising and fingerspelled Zach Efron.

  “He called?” Grace slapped her cheek in exaggerated shock, regretting the move.

  Hannah narrowed her eyes.

  “Okay, for real, who called?” Grace signed, breathing through her mouth to avoid the Swiss cheese odor.

  “Daniel.” Hannah fingerspelled, then licked mayo from a purple sparkle painted finger, once again triggering Grace’s gag reflex.

  Oh no. Here we go with the boyfriend thing again. “Did he call for you?” The bread gave her banter strength.

  Hannah stomped her foot. “That’
s mean!”

  “Sorry.” Grace made a mental note to lay off the jokes. They sucked and expended way too much energy. “So, your boyfriend called?” she finally asked.

  Adam walked in from the study before Hannah could respond. Grace caught the please-don’t-say-anything look in her teenager’s eyes.

  “Hi.” Adam finger-wiggled a wave toward Hannah, then planted a kiss on her head. “Mom tell you about my trip?”

  Hannah’s eyebrows pulled together. “Trip? What?”

  “Chicago. Business,” Adam signed.

  Showing vague signs of hesitation, Hannah signed. “How long?”

  “Three days. Four, maybe.” Adam stared at his feet for a brief second before shooting Grace a tight smile. “You take care of each other. Okay?” His pointed finger included both of them.

  Grace caught Adam’s hesitant floor-stare, which sent her antenna up. What’s that about? Grace wondered.

  Hannah’s eyes glanced from her dad to her mother and back again. “You leave maybe four days? Us? Alone?”

  Doesn’t she trust me? Grace straightened in her seat. “I can take care of things,” she signed, feeling her confidence waver, even as she spoke. She watched Hannah come to her side, drape an arm around her shoulders and sign “fine” before leaving the kitchen.

  “That’s all she can say? Fine?” Grace used her hand to support her balloon-head. “Am I that big of a wuss?”

  Adam turned toward the refrigerator, his back to Grace. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “Ditto,” #2 chimed.

  CHAPTER 14

  GRACE

  I felt a great disturbance in the Force,

  as if millions of voices suddenly cried

  out in terror and were suddenly silenced.

  Grace awoke from her Obi Wan Star Wars dream warning of unsettling times ahead. She reached for Adam, her arm flopping against empty pillows…night four in Chicago. She switched on the bedside light and sat up. Combing fingers through her hair, she listened to the unnatural quiet of night.

  She had weathered Adam’s absence fairly well with only a few glitches. One morning she slept through the alarm, making her and Hannah late for summer camp. Another morning she’d failed to set the trash out in time. Hearing the loud noise of the garbage truck, she rushed out to wheel the large container across the street. Aligning it with the still-full trash bins, she crossed her fingers, hoping her neighbors weren’t watching her garbage trickery.

  Nothing major, just small blurbs. Not like burning the house down or anything. And she didn’t faint when Hannah sliced open her thumb. She planned on bragging to Adam about her Nurse Nancy role, but he never called…and he said he would. Every night.

  She ran her hands up her arms, feeling the unease she’d felt most of the day. What is it? She screwed up her mouth and contemplated two possibilities. No three.

  -Adam had been gone four days

  -Something about the deaf kids she worked with

  -The two chili cheese dogs she ate for lunch

  She waited for #2's comment to blast through. Silence. Where the hell is she? Grace could use the input, even, she had to admit, from the crazy bitch.

  “She must be screwing with someone else for a change. Just when I need her.” Grace raised her eyes to the ceiling. Still silence. Damn.

  Wide awake, she picked up an unfinished crochet square. In Adam’s absence she’d resurrected her mother’s long-standing intent of crocheting nine-by-seven inch squares for Warm Up America, her mother’s favorite charity. The organization distributed handmade afghans to people in homeless shelters. So far, she’d crocheted eight squares…only forty-one to go for a complete afghan. She’d also plowed through a romance novel and finished ten crossword puzzles, thanks to the answers printed in the back. If Adam didn’t come home soon, she’d have to resort to the Home Shopping Network.

  Crocheting felt familiar when everything around her seemed strange. It helped sort through her web of thoughts, that is, once she’d relearned the routine.

  I felt a great disturbance in the Force. She heard Obi Won’s voice again, warning of danger. A chill shot down her back. She repeated the words and an image of Cherry popped into her mind, not a good sign. The two of them had formed a twisted sort of bond during the past week, not that it stopped the angry outbursts. Almost daily Grace had to physically remove Cherry from the rest of the group until her temper-tantrum subsided.

  Her mind rewound to the more than disturbing episode earlier in the week.

  ~~~

  The Cherry incident escalated into a volatile rage. So much so, instead of Grace removing Cherry from the scene, Jill scurried to evacuate the Bluebirds to another room.

  As Grace grabbed the wild-eyed child from behind in a secure and, what she hoped was a non-threatening hold, Cherry jerked backwards with the force of an adult, hurling the two of them into a nearby file cabinet. Thankfully she hadn’t worn her signature red cowboy boots that day. Coupled with her powerful moves, the boots could have turned into lethal weapons, especially to Grace’s shins.

  The child fought like a raged, wounded animal. Maintaining her hold, Grace fought the panic rising in her throat. She freed her right hand and repeatedly signed the letter G, her own sign name, in front of Cherry. After an eternal minute of thrashing the possessed child released her fit of anger with a long, exaggerated breath and fell limp in Grace’s arms. Astonished and shaken by Cherry’s strength, Grace worked on calming her own breath. When she did, she noticed her eyes had filled. What in this child’s life causes her to have to fight so violently?

  Lowering herself to the floor, she pulled Cherry onto her lap, started a slow-paced rocking motion and stroked the child’s tangled hair. Cherry never shed tears with her outbursts, only bone-chilling hostile glares. The world? Her enemy.

  Since the episode, Cherry glued herself to Grace during all the daily activities. For whatever reason, Cherry calmed in her presence. From that day on, the staff had nicknamed her The Cherry-Whisperer.

  ~~~

  “God. What’s her life really like?” Grace turned the square to start the last row of stitches. Unlike Hannah, who had been showered with unconditional love and devotion her entire life, Cherry seemed to lack positive attention of any kind.

  Grace finished off the nine-by-seven square and dropped her hands to her lap. “I’ve got one more week with her. Then what?”

  Her thoughts switched to Adam, who had been gone four days. And with another woman. Jared had gone, but still: Who was Lindsay Durham? Was she a Melissa McCarthy (cute as a button, but over-sized) or Jennifer Aniston (perfect in every way) contract specialist? Grace shrugged. Adam had never given her anything to worry about before. But then again, she’d been a more-than-usual-pain-in-the-ass lately.

  “Adam wouldn’t.” Would he? “Nah.” She scratched him off the disturbance list. The chili cheese-dog agony had subsided with a Prilosec. That left Cherry.

  CHAPTER 15

  GRACE

  Three more days of volunteering. Because of heading to Branson on Friday she’d miss the last day of the summer program, which she regretted. Did she actually say that? Yes, and she knew why. Cherry shadowed her every move since the being-tossed-into-the-file-cabinet episode, and having the child close, Grace felt she could protect her…although from what, she didn’t know. Jill had been less than thrilled about Grace missing the last day, but leaving on Friday would get them to Branson for the end of Josh’s camp. And hand’s down, closing ceremonies for Josh trumped the last day of the summer program.

  During the entire, agonizing month, Josh had sent only two letters, with the exception of the mandatory Sunday chicken-letter. The letters arrived the same day. Grace could only imagine the mailman’s relief to drop off not one, but two letters stamped Branson, Missouri.

  As if run off on a copier, the letters were identical. He did, however, take time to address one to Adam and Grace, the other to Hannah.

  Dear Mom and Dad/Hannah,

  Camp
is great. I’m in cabin 12 and it’s

  the best. I’m having fun. My counselors

  are Jordan and David. They are cool. I

  caught a fish today.

  Love, Josh

  Adam and Hannah hooted and hollered over the letters at the dinner table.

  Grace did not. “This doesn’t say anything!”

  “He’s having a good time,” Adam signed, a tight grin on his lips.

  Through his smile Grace noticed circles under his eyes and an unrecognizable tenseness in his voice. Probably those ungodly hours he’s been working, she thought, and then switched back to Josh’s non-letter. “How can you tell he’s having a good time?” she scanned the spattering of words, thinking she’d missed something.

  Adam imitated writing a letter. “No time.”

  Hannah banged the table with the palm of her hand, interrupting the parental banter. “Astros game.” Her eyes bright. “Next Tuesday. Can I go?”

  “With who?” Grace and Adam signed in unison.

  “Jenn.” Hannah shifted in her seat. “Her dad said two more could come. Please?”

  “Who’s the other person?” Grace noticed Hannah’s excited expression.

  “Daniel.” Hannah’s fingerspelling took on light year speed.

  Fatherly lines formed between Adam’s eyebrows. “Who’s Daniel?”

  “Jennifer’s dad wants to take you, Jennifer AND Daniel?” Grace pursed her lips.

  “Who’s Daniel?” Adam repeated.

  “I’ll explain later.” Grace bit her lip. A fast-moving conveyor belt was about to dump her into the throws of teenage puberty.

  “Yes?” Hannah balanced on the edge of her seat.

  Grace shot her daughter a weak smile. “Let me and your dad talk, okay?”

  Obviously not the answer she wanted, Hannah grimaced and nodded.

  Adam tapped the table. “I have a surprise.” He leaned forward, eyes dancing.

  “What?” Hannah signed. Grace wondered the same thing.

  “I telephoned Mr. Weiger this morning.” Adam rubbed his hands together. “We get the beach house, third week of July. How’s that?” Port Aransas, their favorite vacation spot.