by Mary Carter
Jake turned around, then before she knew what was happening he was on one knee in front of her. He took her hand, kissed it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t need to know every little secret to know who you are.” He touched her heart. “You’re the woman I love. And the woman I love is not broken. She is real, and she is good, and she is whole.”
Grace felt tears in her eyes. “Jake.”
“I love you, Grace Ann Sawyer.”
Tears slipped silently down Grace’s face. “I love you too.”
He reached into his pocket. He was going to propose. This was it. He was going to ask her to marry him on the streets of Spain. Yes, yes, yes. Grace’s breath caught. But when his hand was visible again, he wasn’t holding a ring box. It was a flyer of some sort. He rose to his feet.
Did he forget the ring? Grace thought. Or am I just crazy?
“I was going to save this as a big surprise,” Jake said. “But maybe you need to know about this now.” He handed the flyer to Grace. She stared at it.
GREC FESTIVAL de BARCELONA
An international theater of dance, music, and circus.
She looked up at Jake.
“It’s one of the most outstanding cultural events in Barcelona,” Jake said. “It’s at an open-air theater—Teatre Grec on Montjuïc. Over a hundred thousand people will be in attendance, Grace.”
“Fabulous,” Grace said. She hugged Jake, then pulled back. “It sounds great.” Maybe not as great as a ring.
“You don’t understand,” Jake said. “I’m attending. You’re performing.”
“Excuse me?”
“You can sing anything you want—up to three original songs—”
“How did this even come about?”
“The flyer was in our mailbox back home. They were looking for talent to sing, and the dates just happened to correspond with our trip—”
“Wait. Wait. This flyer was in our mailbox? In Nashville?”
“Yes. And then I called your manager—”
“You didn’t think it was odd that this flyer just happened to get delivered to our mailbox right after we won a trip to Spain?”
“Yes, I did think it was odd, but crazier things have happened. Hell, for all I knew, everyone who books a trip to Spain gets this flyer—”
“But we didn’t book this trip, we thought we won it in a raffle.”
“Look. I figured the flyer was related to our winning the trip, but did I stop and research the who, what, where, when, and why of how it ended up in our mailbox? No, I did not. But I did look the festival up on the Internet, and it’s a really big deal, and so I called your manager and—”
“You actually called my manager?”
“And he thought it was a great idea. And then he called the venue, and I think they even saw the demo on your Web site, and you were in.”
“No,” Grace said. “No.” This was Carrie Ann again. Using Jake to get to her. Grace should never have felt sorry for her again, never given her the benefit of the doubt.
“Grace, Grace. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. And granted maybe the venues you’ve played haven’t been this big, but you can do this in your sleep—”
“It’s not for real, Jake. This is part of a game.”
“Is that what you really think? Or are you just afraid to sing?”
“Don’t you see it?”
“See what?”
“Carrie Ann is behind the flyer like she’s behind everything else.”
“What is ‘everything else’? It’s a free trip to Spain, Grace. Not a prison sentence.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Explain it to me. A few months ago you would have been dancing with joy at this opportunity.”
“A lot can happen in a few months.”
“You’re seriously telling me you don’t want to sing anymore?”
“That’s right. My singing career is over, Jake. It’s over.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“Are you really that insecure?”
“Excuse me?”
“All artists get bad reviews, Grace. It’s part of being an artist in the first place.”
“It’s not just that. Every time I even think about playing again, I get these panic attacks.”
“Every performer gets butterflies—”
“These aren’t butterflies. They’re attacks.”
“I feel like you’re attacking me.”
“I’m not. I’m just so frustrated right now. I don’t know what her game is—but it isn’t good. I don’t feel good.”
Jake stared at her. He was just trying to help. “Are you sure, Grace? Are you sure you’re not jumping to conclusions?”
“You think all of Barcelona wants to hear me sing? That’s sweet, Jake. But it’s not for real.” Grace tried to lighten her tone. She didn’t want to fight.
“You’re a songwriter. You can’t shut it off even if you say you want to.”
Jake looked so intense. Grace didn’t like upsetting him. She reached up and caressed his face. “What about you, babe? Can I shut you off?”
“There are ways,” he said. He pulled her in and kissed her neck. “Take me home, and I’ll show you the ways.”
It was a relief to crawl into bed. Except, of course, Grace couldn’t sleep. From Carrie Ann’s making Jake believe Grace had a spot in a Barcelona concert to the possible aborted proposal, there were too many things swimming around in her head. Long after they had made love and Jake was snoring peacefully beside her, Grace was still wide-awake, trying not to look at the shadow on the ceiling. It looked exactly like a noose. She used to see them everywhere she went, like shapes in the clouds, except back then everything had turned into a cloud.
Lionel Gale. He was the real reason Grace couldn’t handle seeing Carrie Ann. He was what the two of them needed to talk about. Get it in the open. Tell the truth, both of them, for once in their lives. Would it help? Or would it make it worse?
Did Carrie Ann ever think about him? Did she think about Stan and Lydia? Did she hope, from time to time, pray, actually, every night, that the two somehow went on to have an okay life? A yearning to call her mother hit Grace like a sledgehammer. Not the mother in hospice who went in and out of remembering things. But the mother who knew and remembered it all. The mother who more than once had tried to warn her about Carrie Ann.
Grace got up, padded over to the window, and looked out. For the most part La Rambla was quiet, although streetlamps glittered down the promenade and the occasional couple or individual strolled by. Grace thought about her upcoming birthday. She remembered the day Carrie Ann had decided she was going to have the same exact birthday. Grace had actually been pretty excited at the prospect and had run to tell her mother. She was in the kitchen, bowls spread out on the counter, Betty Crocker cookbook open. It was always a challenge feeding so many kids, so she cooked in bulk. Whatever she made on Mondays they ate until Thursday.
“Carrie Ann and I are going to have the same birthday,” Grace had announced. Jody had turned, wiped her hands on her apron, and then pointed to the stool at the counter. Grace had sat. Jody had slowly returned to stirring as she talked to Grace.
“She picked the exact same birthday, Gracie?”
“Yes. Both of us are now July twenty-ninth.”
“But that’s your special day. We can give Carrie Ann one of her own.”
“Carrie Ann wants us to have the same birthday,” Grace had said. To this day she could recall the clawing panic she had felt at the prospect of upsetting Carrie Ann.
“I heard you, honey-pie,” her mother had said. “But what do you want?”
“I want Carrie Ann to be happy,” Grace had whispered. She had stopped short of admitting she’d promised the skies she would take care of Carrie Ann. And it was true, too. Grace had wanted her to be so happy.
Jody had come over to Grace, put her hands on her arms, and looked her in the eye. “I know you like
her, Gracie. But some people won’t ever be happy, no matter what good comes their way. And mark my words, that little girl is one of them.”
“She’s not. She’s very happy here.”
“Maybe to an extent. But she’s been through too much. There’s nothing you, or me, or Daddy, or anyone else will ever be able to do to fill the holes inside her.” The holes inside her, Grace had thought. As if Carrie Ann were a piece of Swiss cheese or a sinking ship. “You can’t save her, Gracie, do you hear me?”
“But I made Brady all better.”
“Honey. Brady was a kitten. People are much more complicated than kittens.”
“But maybe they’re not. Maybe she just needs a lot of love.”
“You can love her all you want, Gracie. You can be her friend. But you have to love yourself more. Be your own friend more.”
“I don’t mind sharing my birthday.”
“Gracie Ann, you aren’t listening to me. Share your birthday if you want. Just don’t think you can save her, all right?”
“Save her from what?” Grace had said.
“Herself,” her mother had said. Grace had been thoroughly confused, and it must have shown on her face. Her mother had actually stopped cooking and sat across from her. “You will never be able to do enough to make up for all the bad things she’s gone through. Carrie Ann was nine years old when she came to us. The world can do a lot of damage in nine years.”
“But she’s already better. I make her happy.”
“At what expense?”
“Huh?”
“Oh, Gracie. I just hate to see you turning yourself inside out trying to please her. She’s damaged, sweetheart. Believe me. You can’t fix her.”
Now, wide-awake in Barcelona, Grace understood what her mother had been trying to say. She had been right. Grace couldn’t fix Carrie Ann. But a kind of clawing guilt had dug into Grace, and she couldn’t let it go, and all these years she had pushed back on a single horrendous thought, covered it up as quickly as she could. The question reared up at her now, and she was too worried and too weary to fight it off. You can always run, but you can never hide. It came to her now, and sat heavy and wet in her lap. What if, in spite of all her good intentions, and heart full of love, what if the choices Grace Sawyer had made had actually made Carrie Ann’s life much, much worse?
CHAPTER 13
Carrie Ann was dreaming about Grace when her blanket was violently ripped away. Her eyes flew open. Rafael towered over her, glaring.
“Hey,” she said. “Jerk.” God, he could have given her a heart attack. She wanted to get back to her dream; she hadn’t been there in so long. The tree house. Stan. For a few seconds they were kids again. Before everything changed. When they were happy. Playing Go Fish, drinking Bud Light, smoking Camel cigarettes.
Rafael screamed at her in Spanish, and, when she didn’t respond, he switched to English. He was furious that she had snuck off to meet Grace last night. Carrie Ann grabbed her blanket back and held it up to her chin. “I am to be by your side, always,” Rafael said. “He isn’t going to like this.”
Carrie Ann didn’t like the look Rafael got in his eyes sometimes. She got up and brushed past him, and headed for the coffee pot. “I think you need to get a few things straight, Rafael. I know he is your friend and all, but this was my idea. He is going along with my plan, and you are not my shadow nor my bodyguard.”
“He said to stay with you until he is here. That is why he is paying me for.”
“That is what he is paying you for.”
“Sí, sí. Now you agree.”
“Your English sucks.”
“¿Qué?”
“You heard me.”
“From now on, you go everywhere I go.”
“You can’t treat me like a prisoner. This is my show. I’m the director.”
“I am to be with you always.”
“English isn’t that literal. When he said that . . . he just meant . . . most of the time. Do you understand?”
“No, he not say, ‘most of the time.’ He say, ‘always.’ ”
“I’ll talk to him. I’ll make sure he explains it—muy bueno—so you can comprehend-o.”
“We go everywhere together.”
“Good lord, you’re annoying. Call him.”
Rafael eyed her. Then, he took out his mobile and dialed. He spoke briefly, then handed her the phone.
Carrie Ann didn’t even say hello. “Did you tell him to breathe down my neck every freaking second?”
“I just want to make sure you have backup.”
“Why would I need backup?”
“We don’t know anything about this Jake.”
“He plays with puppy dogs for a living.”
“Are we ready to get the show on the road?”
“Not yet. I wasn’t able to get into it with Jake there.”
“Time is going to run out.”
“I’m meeting with her this morning. I’ll set the stage.” Rafael was staring at her. Carrie Ann walked away and didn’t speak again until she was near a window. Then she lowered her voice. “I don’t think Rafael is the best choice.”
“He’s harmless.”
“He’s aggressive.”
“You’ll thank me later.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carrie Ann didn’t like his tone. She should have never told him about her plan. She had just thought it would be even more spectacular if he was involved. As usual, she had made a mistake. “If you don’t talk to him, he might wind up with my knee in his balls.”
He laughed. “He’s doing what I told him to do.”
“Well, un-tell him. This is my reunion first and foremost.”
“I’ll handle Rafael. Now when are you meeting with Grace alone?”
“I already told you. This morning,” Carrie Ann said. “Grace and I are meeting for breakfast at ten.” Carrie Ann glanced up at Rafael. “And I don’t want a shadow.”
“Fine. Hand him the phone.” Carrie Ann smiled. “Hey,” she said. Rafael looked up. She tossed him the phone.
He listened, and murmured. “Got it,” Rafael said. He hung up, looked at Carrie Ann.
“Told you,” Carrie Ann said.
Rafael called him back from outside, in front of the building. His amigo spoke without even saying hola. “Did you get that? He’ll be alone this morning.”
“Sí. Sí. I will get him.”
“But not until I text you it’s time. Got it?”
“Sí, sí. I wait for you. Then I get Jake.”
“Don’t let him make any noise.”
“He will not see me coming.”
“Don’t even look at Carrie Ann again before she leaves. She’ll see it in your face.”
“She know nothing. I am so very good.”
“The place is ready?”
“Sí, sí. It’s ready.”
“Call me when he’s there.” The phone went dead. Rafael grinned. He couldn’t wait. He needed the release. And he hated American men. Rafael would be on the ledge and through the window before Jake was even awake.
Carrie Ann took her time getting ready. She wore a pretty green dress that flared just above the knees. She brushed out her long blond hair. She put on just enough makeup but not too much. She grabbed the stack of letters. All tied together with string. She tucked them into her purse, knowing she would have to say just the right thing when she brought them out. Grace would actually be doing herself a big favor if she ever got around to reading them.
Rafael stood in front of the door. “What are those?” he said, pointing to the purse.
“They’re private,” Carrie Ann said.
“Let me see.” He held out his hand.
“You’d better watch your step,” Carrie Ann said. “One more phone call and you’re out of this for good.”
“He needs me,” Rafael said. “I am supplying everything.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
But Rafael just grinned. Damn him. Damn both o
f them. There was definitely a screw loose with Rafael. The sooner she got away from him the better. He stood in front of the door, but she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. She tried to push him out of the way. Then she tried to pull him out of the way. He remained with his back to the door, arms crossed, grin slathered across his face.
“If you want to go out, I want a kiss,” he said.
“You’re disgusting.” He shrugged, smiled. “Get out of my way before I knee you in the balls.”
He looked down at her knee. When he looked up, he was no longer smiling. Carrie Ann held his gaze. Finally, he broke off with a huff. “Blondes are not more fun,” he said.
“Probably not,” she said. “But we at least know how to get things done.”
Grace would be at breakfast, wouldn’t she? Carrie Ann had this awful feeling that Grace was going to run. Grace had been terrified to see her. Terrified. Carrie Ann’s phone buzzed. It was him.
Are you with her?
God, he was so controlling. So exacting. What was with these guys? He was turning out to be just as much of a minefield as Rafael.
Not yet.
She should have listened to the age-old adage If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. This was about her and Grace, period. This was supposed to be fun. They were barely into it, and the boys were acting so weird that she was definitely not having fun. Once she reached the outdoor café, she situated herself so that she would be able to see Grace coming down the alley. Normally Carrie Ann hated to eat outdoors. Flies and beggars and everything in between. But this way Grace wouldn’t be able to give her the slip. Carrie Ann would chase her down the street and tackle her if she had to. Maybe Grace wasn’t going to show. Maybe she and Jake were on a plane back to Nashville. Maybe all this preparation had been for naught.
Ten minutes past the time they were supposed to meet, Grace came walking down the alley. Her head was down, and she moved quickly. She was such a different girl when she was on stage. Carrie Ann had seen her several times in Nashville. Carrie Ann usually came late, sat in the very back, and slipped out while people were applauding. She hadn’t been ready to actually confront Grace face-to-face. Sitting there, watching her on stage, Carrie Ann was filled with a sense of awe, and fierce pride. She still feels like family, Carrie Ann thought. She’s still my sister.