Saving Gracie

by Terry Lee

  She squeezed her eyes shut and willed images of Cherry Harding and her evil excuse of a mother out of her mind. She opened her eyes and grimaced. No matter how much she hammered her mental delete button, the situation remained stuck in her brain.

  Someone needs to help Cherry. She glanced at happy Hannah in the backseat, lost in her fantasy middle-school fiction. The thing was that Cherry’s life wasn’t fiction; the vampires in her world were real.

  ~~~

  A week had passed since the “Cherry incident” and their return from Branson. Thumbing through a stack of mail, two envelopes caught Grace’s attention, one from Josh, the other from the school district. Not in the least bit interested in the more official looking letter, she pushed it aside and opened the other.

  Mom,

  Would you bring my Game Boy when you

  come? I’m having fun. My best friend is

  Nate. He lives in Kansas. Can he come visit?

  Love, Josh

  Oh, to be so young. Josh, home almost a week, and no mention of a new best friend from Kansas, although he had plenty to say about the Game Boy not making the trip.

  Grace reread the letter. Can he visit? Visit…the maybe-promise to Cherry reared. She tried justifying that Cherry would probably forget. That was a lie and she knew it. Adam had been right. How does someone like Cherry, with obviously few if any friends, handle disappointment and broken promises? The child probably had a ton, but certainly no Game Boy.

  She sighed, more from guilt than relief, and cut her eyes to the school district envelope. “What is this, a report card?” She opened the flap and pulled out an engraved invitation to an appreciation luncheon honoring camp counselors and volunteers the following Thursday, the tenth of July.

  “Shit.” Tossing the paper aside, Grace rubbed her eyes. She stretched her arms to the ceiling, let out a frustrated growl and grabbed a note pad, deciding to focus on their Port Aransas trip.

  She scribbled a few list items then stopped. Maybe a family vacation would help. Adam, still loving in many ways, now came with a preoccupied-distant element added to the mix. She over-compensated for the absence of couple’s conversation by rattling non-stop about ridiculous topics that popped in her mind. She ought to watch CIS, NCIS…one of those alphabet crime shows Adam loved, but felt she’d only embarrass herself by the complexity of the plot. Instead, she reverted to stupid comments like, “Did you see the wardrobe malfunction on Dancing With the Stars last night?” Or, “Do you think Tina Fey is retaining water? Her ankles look thick.”

  She shook her head for clarity. Concentrate on Port Aransas, she told herself. Focus.

  Jennifer, having been invited by Hannah, would fill Kathryn’s vacancy in the SUV this year, which gave Grace some relief, hoping Jenn’s presence would ease missing her mom. The girls planned lots of tan and water time. Adam and Josh had serious fishing in mind, which would leave her with large chunks of free time.

  “I’ll be able to…to….” Well shit, what would she do? How many blankets does Warm Up America need anyway?

  “Stupid questions result in stupid answers,” chirped #2.

  Grace mentally stuck her fingers in her ears and scribbled items on the Port Aransas to-do list. Two pages later, she stretched again and pulled the calendar in front of her.

  “Let’s see, next Tuesday is Josh’s party at Splash-town. Then….” Her finger stopped on Thursday. Yuk…the appreciation luncheon. I don’t wanna go, she thought, reverting to her whiney-ass routine.

  “Buck up, it’s only a lunch,” she expected from #2, but didn’t hear it.

  “After the “stupid” comment, she probably headed up to Sturgis for a biker rally.” She surprised herself, sounding just as snarky as #2. Still nothing. Where is she? Grace wondered, and then stopped.

  “I’m losing it. Maybe I do need a vacation.” She blew out frustration and continued the calendar mark down. Next Saturday was the Merrill’s Annual Pot-Luck & BBQ. She twisted a curl around her finger, contemplating the idea. “I can do that.” Since her mother’s illness, she’d pretty much become non-existent as far as social functions were concerned.

  Beans, she wrote for Saturday. Each year she brought a huge pot of her mother’s famous pinto beans.

  “You need to make them the day before.” She heard the instructions as clearly as if she’d just pushed *1. “And don’t forget, first they need to soak overnight.” Grace changed the bean entry to Friday and added “soak beans” to Thursday.

  “Got it, Mom.” Grace sighed then bit her lower lip. Mom. Her mom’s recipe. For the first time she wouldn’t be with them at their special little beach house in Port Aransas. An ache made its way into Grace’s heart. Their lives had been messy and intertwined…total dysfunction…but she missed it…the chaos…everything. Now with her mother gone, every event, every holiday for the next year would be a painful “first.” A tear slid from the corner of her eye and splashed on the notepad.

  ~~~

  Josh and three rambunctious pre-pubescent friends made the most of their day at Splash-town. They landed briefly for a health-deprived lunch of nachos and Dippin’ Dots before heading back to the water rides. Grace had recruited Hannah and Jennifer to help keep an eye on the boys, which seemed like a good idea until she realized her mistake. She failed to specify which boys to watch. Oh. My. God. She had reached the end of the puberty conveyor belt…not pretty.

  Thursday morning, Grace bitched and moaned about the appreciation luncheon right up till she spotted Jill in the parking lot. Bursting from the SUV, she grabbed the younger woman in a bear hug.

  “Hey, I can’t breathe.” Jill’s words spurted out in short-winded puffs, her arms pinned to her sides.

  “Sorry.” Grace released her grip and offered Jill a sheepish smile. “I’m just…so glad to see you.” She felt for the first time the luncheon might be bearable. Such a wuss, she knew. She pulled Jill into the cafeteria and insisted they sit together.

  Halfway through the meal someone at the front table tapped the microphone. “Excuse me, is Grace Brookfield here with us today?” Pause. “Grace?”

  She froze. Her neck retreated into her shoulders like a turtle. She stole a quick look at Jill, only to find her friend pointing her out to the crowd. She grabbed Jill’s arm…too late.

  “Ah, there she is,” the spokesperson said. “Grace, will you come up front please?”

  Grace shot Jill a can’t-believe-you-ratted-me-out glare before stumbling to the podium.

  “We’ve never given this award before,” the speaker said. “However, the vote was unanimous. Grace, on behalf of the staff and counselors of the summer program, I’d like to present you with the Beyond the Call of Duty award.” She handed the plaque over and gave Grace a hug. Applause ricocheted off the cafeteria walls. The speaker stepped back, offering Grace the podium position.

  Her forehead and cheeks felt warm, her palms so sweaty she almost dropped the plaque. Grace raised her eyes to a room full of people, all watching her. Swallowing embarrassment the size of a walnut down her throat, she offered a meek thank-you before giving the crowd a shy school-girlish wave. She slipped back into her seat.

  “Well said,” Jill teased.

  Grace whirled around and found Jill’s smile devilish. “You knew about this?”

  “Of course I did.” Jill’s smirk couldn’t hold a candle to #2’s sarcasm. “So did everyone in the room. You’re a rock star.” She gave Grace a hug. “Congratulations. You deserve it.”

  “Whatever,” Grace mumbled, although secretly thrilled by the compliment. Could she possibly have done something worthwhile? On her own?

  The luncheon ended and Grace surprised herself by actually having a good time, except for the award thing, which totally freaked her out. As she was leaving the cafeteria one of the camp coordinators pulled her aside. “I’d like to personally commend you on how well you worked with Cherry Harding,” the woman said. “You certainly made our job easier.”

  Grace graciously t
hanked the woman, her face still flushed. In her mind she could easily downplay the compliment. Honestly, she didn’t feel she’d done anything special. She studied the award in her hands. Yep, the dang thing had her name on it. Whad’ya know.

  She’d almost reached the parking lot, plaque in hand, when the maybe-visit-Cherry promise popped into her mind. She stopped. Should I ask someone? Not waiting for a #2 reply, she headed back to the school. Inside the main office, she stuck her head around the door of the counselor’s office where she heard movement. A woman sifted through a stack of papers.

  “Excuse me?” Grace’s voice was barely audible. She felt self-conscious and wished she could wiggle her nose and be sitting in her car instead of standing at the counselor’s door.

  “Yes? Come in, I’ll be with you in a minute.” The nameplate on the desk read Elena Parker, Counselor. “Have a seat.”

  Grace slid into a chair near the door. She took in air to relax, which didn’t help. Flashbacks of middle school raced through her mind. She’d only been sent to the office once when her math teacher suspected she’d forged her mother’s name on a progress report. Her mother had not been amused. #2 had screamed with laughter.

  Quit fidgeting, she ordered herself, assuming #2 had dumped her for some biker dude. She pressed her palms on her thighs and shifted in her seat.

  “Now.” The counselor lifted her head, her eyes warm and friendly. “How can I help you?”

  Grace stumbled through the Cherry story, explaining how she had formed some kind of bond with the child during the summer program. She ended with the scene in the parking lot, omitting, once again, the ‘I love you’ sign and fudging on the promised part of the visit.

  Ms. Parker leaned back in her chair, her fingers in prayer-like formation at her lips. She then held up a finger, walked to the door and quietly pushed it closed. Thumbing through a row of folders in a nearby lateral file cabinet, she pulled one out and placed the folder on her desk.

  Grace glanced at the label: no surprise, Harding, Cherry.

  The counselor released an audible sigh.

  “This poor child doesn’t have much of a chance, I’m afraid.” Flipping through the folder, Ms. Parker shook her head. “Major anger and discipline problems, report after report.” Elena Parker raised her hopeless hands in the air. “ARD’s have produced no cooperation from the mother. None.”

  As a special-needs parent, Grace knew all too well the Admission, Review, and Dismissal protocol to help discern eligibility resources.

  “I don’t know why she latched on to me.” Grace’s brows drew together.

  A swift blank look crossed the counselor’s face and then pointed at the plaque beside Grace. “You did just receive that, didn’t you?

  Grace’s eyes dropped to the gold-plated inscription mounted on the polished mahogany wood.

  “Mrs. Brookfield.” The woman crossed her arms on her desk and leaned toward Grace. “You showed that child compassion…that someone in this ugly world she lives in actually cares. And compassion is something she’s had little exposure to in her short life.” The counselor’s words penetrated Grace’s thought process.

  “And, as far as you going for a home visit? No. Absolutely not.”

  “No?” Jumbled emotions rushed through Grace. Relief? Fear? Guilt?

  “Absolutely not,” Ms. Parker emphasized. “There’s a current CPS investigation in progress with the family and a visit from you could prove to be dangerous.” The counselor sat back in her chair. “For you,” she paused, “as well as Cherry.”

  The intensity of the words stung Grace with brutal reality. She stared at the nameplate on the desk and bit her inner lip. Goose bumps covered her arms.

  “Don’t get me wrong.” Ms. Parker rose and moved to lean against the front of her desk. “I admire your concern for Cherry. I wish more people felt the need to help the way you have.”

  The counselor touched Grace’s shoulder. “You have a gift. We’ve got great, highly specialized teachers and aides. But you calm her down better than anyone we’ve had. No one has been able to do what you’ve done with Cherry.”

  Grace moved her head around until her neck popped. She so wasn’t used to compliments, and now several in one day. Wow.

  “After school starts I could arrange for you to spend time with Cherry in her classroom…if you’re interested.” Ms. Parker seemed to weigh the situation. “Maybe as a volunteer?”

  An eyebrow shot up. Another volunteer suggestion? And this one directly involving Cherry?

  The counselor hesitated. “The reason I even mention this is because of your interest in the child and your special involvement with her in the summer program.” Ms. Parker cleared her throat. “And if history repeats itself, Cherry’s teacher will need the help when school starts.”

  Grace remained quiet.

  “How does that sound?” Ms. Parker returned to her seat, closed the file and leaned back.

  “Okay…I guess.” Not a grown-up response, Grace thought.

  “I will tell you that a preliminary request to send her to the State School for the Deaf in Austin has been initiated,” the counselor said. “It may be the safest place for her.”

  A roar filled Grace’s head. “I see. Thank you,” she forced out. Bile backed up in her throat. Feeling an unexplainable urge to run, she rose and thanked Ms. Parker for her time. Power walking down the hall, she bolted through the double doors of the school and bee-lined to her car.

  Arriving home, she fumbled with the key at the back door before pushing herself in. She slammed the door and twisted the lock. Her stomach felt like she’d swallowed a handful of rocks which were tumbling around in a polishing drum. Grateful to be home alone, she tore off the clothes she’d carefully picked out for the luncheon and threw on soft, worn yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt.

  Her closet. Nestling down in the corner, she pulled up her knees, wrapped her arms tightly around her legs and rocked.

  It may be the safest place for her.

  The counselor’s words pounded through her head. She covered her ears.

  It may be the safest place for her.

  Nothing stopped the horrific picture forming in her mind. The urge to run stemmed from the need to escape. She could run from the counselor, but not in Cherry’s reality. Cherry wasn’t just an unruly deaf wild-child troublemaker. She most likely lived with abuse daily.

  Tears streamed down Grace’s face, scorching her cheeks. God Mom, I need you. I need you…here.

  CHAPTER 17

  RUBY

  Standing outside Mary’s office, Ruby glanced at the crumpled summons. A thin bead of sweat lined her forehead, her Juicy Fruit smacking at a furious rate. She wiped sweaty hands down her black cargo pants before entering her superior’s office.

  “Ruby,” Mary welcomed. “So nice to see you.”

  Yeah, as if it’s a big surprise I’m here, Ruby thought.

  “Come in,” Mary invited.

  Knowing full well this wouldn’t be a girlfriend chit-chat, Ruby edged toward the white shiny desk. Mary was the Ice Princess, after all, though Ruby never ever verbalized her super-secret nickname for her superior.

  “Please tell me what you’ve observed regarding Quinlan.” Mary, elegantly clothed in her usual “whites,” sat stick-straight behind her desk, long slender fingers folded in front of her.

  Reaching into her back pocket, Ruby pulled out a small fluorescent orange notebook with a neon green spiral. She flipped a couple of pages. Shifting her Juicy Fruit wad to one side, she cleared her throat. “Zero to minimal participation during orientation. Filed fingernails during ‘Self Deception/Self Awareness.’ Mainly slept through ‘The Bigger Picture.’” She ticked items off like a grocery list.

  Ruby pushed her blue-tinted glasses up her forehead. “If you ask me, she’s got the self-deception thing down, Boss.” Ruby chuckled, but quickly fell silent after meeting Mary’s icy-clear eyes.

  “And after orientation?” Mary raised a perfectly arched
eyebrow. “I presume she only chose one major?”

  “Yes ma’am.” Ruby shifted from one foot to the other. “Where Do We Go From Here?”

  “Interesting.” Mary murmured, nails making light clicking noises as she took notes on the screen in front of her. “Her minors?”

  “Herbs and Gardening.” Ruby scanned her notes, squinting at her scratchy handwriting. “‘Painting’ and…” She flipped a page. “‘Book of the Month.’ She also picked ‘Sign Language’ for her volunteer assignment. Her granddaughter’s deaf.”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that.” Mary finished her notation. “Anything else?”

  “Well, I hoped she’d pick “Bowling, ‘cause you know, she’s a south-paw.” Ruby rolled her Juicy Fruit to the front of her mouth and smacked loudly. She stopped mid-chomp.

  Mary’s nails tapped impatiently on the shiny white desk. “What does she do in her spare time?”

  “Not much. Goes to Angela’s with her sister.” Ruby leaned against one of the rolling chairs in front of Mary’s desk. It slipped, flying across the room, just as George entered from a side door. The chair sailed past the Council member, crashing into the adjacent wall.

  Ruby managed to catch herself before falling into a full-fledged belly flop. Her blue-tinted glasses and fluorescent-colored notebook skidded across the carpet, landing at George’s feet.

  “See the game today Ruby?” George asked.

  Ruby scrambled to stand. “No sir.”

  George stepped forward, handing over the glasses and notepad.

  Ruby dried damp hands down her cargo pants and nodded an embarrassed thank-you to George. She glanced at Mary, her face a distressed red. “Sorry. Forget about the wheels on those suckers.” She rescued the runaway chair and checked the wall for dings before pushing it back in front of Mary’s desk.