Betting on Grace

by Salonen, Debra

  “She said it was an accident.”

  “There are no accidents. There are only choices. Take your eye off two happy, laughing children to look at your cousin’s puppy and people die. Get off a bus and get hit by a car.”

  Nick had no idea what to say so he said nothing. A moment later, George shook his head as if coming back to the present. “We all make choices. I gave you to the Lightners because I didn’t want to be responsible for ruining another life.”

  Nick felt as though a weight were pressing on his chest. This was his chance to tell the old man off. I was your responsibility, you bastard. I was your flesh and blood and you gave me away without a second thought. But now he knew that wasn’t true. George’s choice hadn’t been random or frivolous.

  He leaned forward and locked his hands together. “I spent a lot of time being pissed off at you. I still don’t understand why you never contacted me when you knew where I was. But I don’t hate you.”

  George’s eyes didn’t reveal much, but he nodded and said, “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

  Suddenly, Nick needed to talk to Grace. To get her take on what just happened. To hold her. “We should probably be going,” he said, standing up. “Will you be okay here alone? Yetta was talking about your moving into Claude’s house for a while. Maybe you should consider it.”

  George shook his head. “My doctor’s not done poking around inside of me. I swear he’s the great-grandson of that bastard in Sobibor. Never happy if they aren’t experimenting.” He made it sound like a joke.

  Nick smiled, but he was worried, too. Despite his cavalier attitude, George didn’t look well. Impulsively, he leaned down and gave his birth father a hug. “Listen, I have to go. But I’m not ready to say goodbye to you just yet, okay? There’s a lot I don’t know about you and my mother. I’d like to talk again.”

  “Anytime,” George said, his voice thick with emotion.

  Nick walked to the door. “I’ll call you from Detroit.”

  His father lifted his chin proudly and gave a curt nod. Nick knew the gesture well—it was one of his.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  GRACE WAS DREAMING. A dream she’d had before. A favorite of hers…because he was in it.

  In the past, he’d been faceless. Just a body. Hands, lips, a touch that made her dizzy.

  “I missed you,” she said, as she always did when he returned to her dreams.

  “I’m glad.”

  They were walking along the ridge of a hiking trail in Red Rocks. She loved the dramatic vistas, the shadows cast by the rugged terrain. She relished the feel of the fierce wind that seemed to say, “If you stand in one place too long, I’ll reshape you, as well.”

  “That’s a very self-centered attitude,” she said, dropping his hand crossly. “If you loved me as much as you claim, you wouldn’t leave me.”

  Nick/Nikolai/the man in her dream shrugged as if her complaint meant little. “But, Grace, it’s always safer to leave than to be left.”

  She heard raw pain in his voice and knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her. For a moment, she saw the child that he’d been, hiding in fear that the Gypsies might appear in the night and take him away. She touched his arm. “But life doesn’t come with guarantees and when you find someone who loves you—someone who is willing to overlook the fact that you’re just a little bit crazy—you hold on to them for as long as the good Lord lets you.”

  “I wish I could do that, Grace. But…”

  She watched in horror as he stepped back into thin air. He looked down, as if suddenly realizing his mistake, but it was too late to change his mind. His arms reached for her just as he disappeared from sight.

  “No…” With a cry, she peered over the edge of the precipice. His body was sprawled far below. Blood seeping into the pale sandstone.

  “Nikolai, come back. This is only a dream. It doesn’t have to be this way. I promise. Come back.”

  But he didn’t move. Maybe he didn’t know it was a dream. Or, God forbid, maybe it wasn’t.

  “SHE HAD A pretty rough night,” the nurse who’d accompanied Nick to the door of Grace’s room said.

  It was early, not quite five. He was wiped out—he’d only grabbed a couple of hours of fitful sleep after returning from Laughlin, but he figured he could nap on the plane. The only flight with a spare seat was leaving in an hour and a half. He had a cab waiting for him downstairs. Liz had offered to drive him to the airport, but he’d wanted to make a clean break.

  Which didn’t explain what he was doing here.

  “We gave her a shot for the pain at three. She’ll probably sleep for another couple of hours.”

  “That’s good,” he said. “I just wanted to check on her. She’s going to be okay, right? No infection?”

  “So far, her temperature has remained the same. I think she’ll be fine.”

  He thanked her, then slipped into the room and walked to the bed closest to the door. The woman in the bed next to Grace’s was snoring loudly. Assured of relative privacy, Nick took Grace’s hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m a coward for leaving like this, but I don’t know how to handle messy goodbyes.”

  He kissed her knuckles. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to miss you. Every day. Probably for the rest of my life.” He shook his head ruefully. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. You and me. We have a connection. It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt, but our worlds are just too different.”

  And your family comes first in your life. He knew that now and could even understand it. His father’s people were pretty special. Strong. Resilient. He was proud to be part Romani, but that didn’t change anything. He still had to leave and he never expected to return—despite Yetta’s prediction.

  “We lost you once, Nikolai Sarna, and we’re not going to lose you again,” she’d said to him last night. “Mark my words.”

  He’d hugged her at the gate and joked about her putting some Gypsy spell on him. Maybe she had. Or was the magic all Grace’s?

  “The way I see it, Grace,” he continued. “You’ve got Romantique, I’ve got my job. You and Kate are an awesome team. And I don’t know if I told you, but I’m up for my dad’s job. If I get it, there’s no way I can transfer to Vegas. It seems the cards are stacked against us, kiddo.” Plus it would probably kill me if you chose Vegas over me. “So, I’m doing the noble thing.”

  He snickered softly. Noble. Not cowardly. Yeah, right.

  When the pressure against his sinuses made him squint, he bent over and kissed her lightly on the lips. Her mouth didn’t respond, but her breath was warm and sweet.

  “I love you, Grace.”

  Then he left, without looking back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  GRACE STABBED the hard soil at the base of the rosebush with her hand trowel. In the two weeks since being shot, life had spiraled downward with a speed that left her reeling.

  For the first time in her life, she felt alone. Desperately alone.

  Not literally, of course. She hadn’t had a moment of privacy since being released from the hospital. Her sisters had done their best to keep her distracted so she wouldn’t slip into a deep depression over the fact that the man she loved didn’t love her.

  After all, he’d disappeared into the great void of Michigan while she’d been flat on her back in the hospital.

  “Completely unheroic,” Alex had decreed.

  “Definitely not a true prince,” Liz had concurred.

  “Another damn frog,” Kate had muttered.

  Grace had agreed—for the brief period when she was totally furious. But then she remembered her dream. The look of devastation on Nikolai’s face as he fell. The regret.

  A part of her knew that he was as unhappy about the way things had turned out as she was, but she couldn’t forgive him. He hadn’t even stuck around long enough for them to talk. Her ego felt as tender as the area around her gunshot wound. All she wanted to do was stay in bed and sulk.

  Unfortunately, h
er recuperation/period-of-mourning had been cut short when a complaint of E. coli contamination made health department inspectors pounce on Romantique. Yellow caution tape blocked the doors. People in lab coats took swabs from every surface in the restaurant’s kitchen and destroyed all the meat in the freezer. Damage control had turned into a full-time job for Grace.

  Of course everyone knew who was to blame for the vicious, untrue allegation—Charles. Grace blamed herself. And her father.

  She hadn’t been to visit her father’s grave since the day of the shooting. And the plants had suffered. All the beautiful blossoms were gone. Brown spots had attacked the leaves.

  “Mom’s in Laughlin, you know,” she said, carefully raking the dead foliage into a pile. “She’s decided George will never get back on his feet unless he moves into Claude’s house where she can bully him.”

  Grace’s first thought after hearing this plan had been purely selfish. Maybe if Nikolai’s birth father lives next door, I’ll get to see his son again someday.

  She pounded a brittle lump of dirt. “He hasn’t even called to see if I’m alive. He showed up, wreaked havoc, then left. I hate him.”

  The sound of her father’s laugh mingled with the traffic noise behind her. Oh, princess, you’re well now. What are you waiting for? Go after him.

  “Leave Vegas?” She rocked back on her haunches and stared at the headstone. Leave her family? Her business? Her life?

  “I…I can’t do that. I belong here.”

  Or did she?

  Just that morning, Kate had pounded on Grace’s desk and shouted, “Snap out of it, Grace. We’re going to lose this place if you don’t help me figure out a way to stop Charles from sabotaging our reputation. Don’t you care if we go bankrupt?”

  At the time, Grace’s first thought had been, no, she didn’t care about Romantique or any of the other problems that had recently cropped up. Liz’s joblessness and the glitch at the bank that showed her several months behind in mortgage payments. Or the rumor that was circulating about one of Alex’s aides. A totally false and potentially damaging allegation.

  Grace didn’t care because she felt numb.

  Just like your mother felt after I died.

  Grace started as if poked in the side with a stick. Her wound didn’t appreciate the movement. Her conscience didn’t like hearing a truth she hadn’t wanted to admit. Was she avoiding life the same way her mother had after Ernst had passed away?

  Grace opened the box of plant fertilizer she’d brought and sprinkled it on the soil, then grabbed her water bottle and unscrewed the cap. “Our world is falling apart, Dad, and all I can do is sit around feeling sorry for myself because Nikolai hasn’t bothered to call. Pathetic, huh?”

  “Awful.”

  Startled by the deep voice that came from behind her, Grace spun around. She had to grab the headstone to keep from falling. “Zeke,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

  “Sorry. I called out your name, but you were talking to someone.” He looked around. “A ghost?”

  “Just talking to myself,” she said. “Cheaper than therapy, although I’m sure most people would say it’s not as effective.”

  Beneath her fingers she felt the silver dollar recessed in the marble—a 1933 Walking Liberty. Her thumb circled the coin, as if reading the raised image. Walking Liberty. Was it a sign?

  Zeke’s normally severe expression softened. “I got your message. ‘The snake still slithers.’ Very cryptic.”

  After Kate’s temper tantrum, Grace had called Zeke to see if he was aware of her family’s sudden bout of bad luck. Since she knew her mother had used a reptilian reference to describe Charles, she figured Zeke would understand.

  “Have a seat,” she said, pointing to the plastic bucket. She spread the now-empty fertilizer bag at the base of the headstone and sat down, her back resting against the engraved marble.

  “Your dad?” Zeke asked. “He must have been quite a man. I’m sorry I never met him.”

  “He was a great guy. Not perfect, but we all miss him a lot. Mom, especially, although I think she’s finally moved beyond the worst of her grief.”

  He didn’t comment. Grace had sensed something between the tall, thin cop and her mother, but had never stopped to contemplate it.

  “Okay. Here’s what I think,” she said. “Charles is out on bail and he has an ax to grind. Given his contacts, how tough would it have been for him to bribe someone to fake an E. coli scare at Romantique? The word alone would send customers running, even if there wasn’t a trace of contamination on the premises.”

  Zeke nodded.

  “We know he’s the reason Liz lost her job, but it just occurred to me that he might be the reason she hasn’t been hired someplace else.”

  “Blackballed?”

  “Possibly. Plus, someone’s tampered with her credit history. She could lose her house.”

  He pulled out a small notepad and jotted something down.

  “And yesterday, one of the mothers at Alex’s preschool claimed someone called to warn her that one of Alex’s aides was a convicted child molester. The caller wouldn’t give his name. Naturally the charge is bogus.”

  Zeke made a few notes then he looked at her and said, “You think like a cop. I’m not surprised Nick fell for you.”

  Her heart squeezed at the mention of Nikolai’s name, but pride made her lift her chin. “A person who’s fallen for someone doesn’t generally skip town without saying goodbye.”

  Zeke made an offhand gesture. “Most of the guys I know would rather take a bullet than watch someone they care about get hurt.” He nodded at her side. “I know Nick was proud of you because he told me so.”

  His praise felt good, but it would have been better coming from Nikolai. “Would it have killed him to stick around until I woke up?”

  “Maybe not.” He shrugged. “But I don’t know what the big deal is. There are outbound flights to Detroit every day. I haven’t noticed your name on any of the manifests.”

  Grace started to list all the reasons she couldn’t leave, but suddenly felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. We’re Romani, Grace. We share the load so one person doesn’t get stuck carrying too much.

  But my sisters need me.

  She must have spoken aloud because Zeke said, “Nick’s not the kind of guy to admit he needs someone in his life. I know because I was the same way. Cost me a wife and kids.”

  Grace suddenly had an image of a much younger Zeke walking away from a woman and two young children. Impulsively, she got up and walked to him. She leaned down awkwardly because of her bandage, but managed to hug him. “If you feel the urge to be part of a family, you can take my place,” she said, only half kidding. “I’m not going to be around for a while. Who knows what will happen without my guidance and direction?”

  He remained stiff in her hug, but he did gently pat her back. “Are you going somewhere?”

  Grace stepped back. “Yes, I think I am. But there’s one thing I have to do first.”

  YETTA LOOKED AROUND the waiting room of the clinic. She’d driven Jurek to his doctor’s appointment. She hated hospitals as a rule, but this one wasn’t that bad. And the nurses had all been warm and kind.

  When Ernst had been hospitalized, Yetta had been so shattered and afraid, she hadn’t truly appreciated the people around her. Not only had she lost the man she’d loved more than life, but her inner voice, the essence of her soul, had gone missing, too.

  This time, she had her “sight” back. She knew with certainty that Jurek would recover, but convincing him of that was proving a challenge.

  “Why don’t you come back to Vegas with me? You said you’re done with the doctors here so what have you got to lose?” she asked, as she drove them back to his place.

  “I’m not a charity case, Yetta.”

  “I know that. You’re family. And you’ve been through a rough time. You need a chance to recoup your strength so you can go visit your son.”

&nb
sp; He didn’t say anything.

  “Jurek, you may not believe this, but Lucy loved you more than she loved to dance.”

  He looked at her. “What’d you say?”

  “You heard me. I was her friend, you know. Maybe her only friend, except for you. She was sweet but too pretty. The other women were afraid of her. And men adored her.”

  “She was never unfaithful,” he said. His tone challenged her to say otherwise.

  “Of course not. She loved you.”

  His eyes closed. “Not enough.”

  “What’s enough? She gave you a son, even though her fellow dancers told her being pregnant would ruin her body, her timing and her equilibrium.”

  “She didn’t want to stay home and be a wife and mother.”

  “She might have. Later on. After she’d gone as far as she could with dance. It was her dream, Jurek. And you never appreciated how much dance did for you.”

  “For me?” he cried. “All we ever did was fight about it.”

  “My point exactly. You should have embraced it. Without dance, Lucy never would have left Minnesota. Dance is what brought her to you.”

  He was silent for the rest of the drive. When she pulled into the lot marked Visitor Parking, he said, “She was a vision, wasn’t she? ‘Joy on two feet,’ one of the critics called her.”

  “Yes, she was.”

  “Do you think she’d hate me for giving our son away?”

  The mother in her made Yetta want to comfort him, but first she had to help him get past his guilt. “I think she would have understood how sad you were. That you blamed yourself.”

  His low grunt was accidental, she was sure. “She would never have been on that bus if I hadn’t been in jail. What kind of dumb jerk goes back to the store where he’d written a bad check?”

  “Someone whose little son needed milk.”

  “I was workin’, you know. A real job. Selling cars. But the owner was a cocky son of a bitch. He tried to screw me out of a commission, and when I called him on it, he said he’d sic his police buddies on me.”