Grace

by Richard Paul Evans

  After breakfast we all helped my mother clean up. Joel and I put on our new sweaters and slacks while my parents dressed in their Sunday best.

  Then I went into the bathroom and put a washcloth under hot water and held it to my forehead until it was hot. I dried my face with a towel and walked to my parents’ room.

  “Mom.”

  She was rubbing her hands with Jergens lotion. “Yes, dear?”

  “I don’t feel well. I think I have a fever.”

  She turned and looked at me. “You do look a little flushed.” She put her cheek against my forehead. “You’re warm.”

  “Would you mind too much if I just stayed home and went to bed?”

  She frowned. “Maybe we should stay home with you.”

  I hadn’t anticipated that response. “Mom, I’m almost fifteen.”

  “I know. But it’s Christmas. I just want us to be together.”

  “I don’t want to ruin your plans. I’ll be okay.”

  She ran her fingers through my hair. “Okay. Why don’t you go lie down and I’ll get you some aspirin.”

  I went to my bed. She came in a few minutes later with a glass of water and two aspirin. “Here you are.”

  “Thank you.” I took the pills and handed the glass back to my mother.

  “We’re going to be going soon. Do you need anything?”

  “No. Thank you.”

  “If you need anything you can reach us at Aunt Estelle’s or Aunt Gail’s a little later. We won’t be home until after dark.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Have a good time.”

  “You get feeling better.” She kissed my forehead. “Hmm. You already feel cooler.”

  “Must be good aspirin.”

  She grinned. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas, Mom.”

  Five minutes later Joel walked into the room. He was angry. “You faker! Now I have to go alone.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No you’re not. You just want to be with her.”

  “We have special plans.”

  “But what about me?” His face screwed up like he was going to cry, then he stomped out.

  As soon as the Bee pulled out of the driveway I got out of bed and went to my parents’ bedroom. I got in my mother’s drawer and took out one of her silk scarves. Then I set about getting ready for my surprise. It was more than an hour later when I went to get Grace.

  CHAPTER Thirty-three

  Eric has given me the greatest Christmas of my life and

  the greatest gift. I gave him truth, and he still loved me.

  GRACE’S DIARY

  “Just a minute,” Grace said as she came out. She held two small packages in her hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “I have surprises too.”

  When we got to the house I pulled the scarf from my pocket. “Before you go in, I need to blindfold you.”

  “How exciting.”

  I rolled the scarf up and tied it around her eyes, then took her by the arm, opened the door, and led her through the kitchen into our dining room. I took the things she carried and set them on the table.

  “Just a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “It smells like coconuts,” she said. “What are you doing?”

  I turned on the living room stereo. The bright strum of a ukulele filled the room.

  “Hawaiian music,” she said.

  While she stood there, blindfolded, I kissed her. I didn’t think her smile could have grown larger but it did. “That’s a nice surprise.”

  “That wasn’t my surprise. Just an opportunity.” I untied the scarf.

  She rubbed her eyes then looked around the room.

  “Mele Kalikimaka,” I said. “Welcome to Hawaii.” I had clipped pictures of Hawaii (as well as a few places that I thought looked like Hawaii, like Fiji and Formosa) from my mom’s National Geographic magazines and hung them on the walls of the kitchen. I had decorated the table with a thatched bamboo runner, and on the table there were two candles placed in coconut shells.

  “Candles,” Grace said.

  “Well, they were supposed to be tiki torches, but I couldn’t find any of those.”

  She laughed. “Good thing. Try explaining to your parents how you burned down their house holding a luau for a runaway girl.”

  I smiled. “Before we eat we need to dress the part.” I lifted a small box from the table. “For you.”

  “Really?” She lifted the lid and her face lit up. She pulled out the cloth inside.

  “It’s a Hawaiian muumuu.”

  She let it unfold. “Oh, it’s beautiful. Should I put it on now?”

  I nodded. “You remember where the bathroom is?”

  “I do,” she said.

  “But first.” I handed her another box. She excitedly lifted the lid. Inside there was a bright red flower. “That’s for your hair.”

  She was positively beaming. “I’ll be right back.”

  She walked down the hall to the bathroom. When the door shut, I went to my room and put on a bright red Hawaian shirt and a plastic lei. Then I went back to the dining room. When she walked in, I just stared. She had never looked more beautiful. Her eyes sparkled, and the soft fabric of her dress hung gracefully on her body. She was glowing. I was tongue-tied.

  “Look at you,” she said. “You look so cute.”

  “I’d much rather look at you.”

  “Thank you,” she said coyly. “I like the flower. I thought it was plastic, but it’s real.”

  “I know. They look fake. It’s called an anthurium. But I’m sure you already knew that.”

  She just smiled at me.

  “I have a lei for you too, but it really is plastic.” As I draped the lei around her neck, she kissed me. Then she whispered, “Mele Kalikimaka to you too.”

  I pulled out her chair, and she sat down.

  “For dinner I made us a Hawaiian luau feast. At least the best I could do in Utah. I’ll be back.”

  I went to the kitchen and brought back our first course: a bowl of pineapple chunks in heavy syrup and two virgin piña coladas with little paper umbrellas.

  She clapped with delight.

  “There’s a Polynesian woman at Heller’s. She told me what to make.”

  Over the next hour I brought out ham and white rice, rice noodles, and yams.

  As we were finishing the last course, she said, “I can’t believe you really made all this.”

  “Pretty much. Except what’s next.”

  “What’s next?”

  “Glad you asked.” I went to the kitchen and brought back a pineapple upside-down cake. “Dessert.”

  I set it down at the table and cut two pieces, serving hers first. Then I sat down, watching her expectantly. She took a small bite.

  “How is it?”

  “It’s delicious.”

  “Do they eat that in Hawaii?”

  She picked up a piece of the cake and held it to my mouth. “You try it.”

  I took a bite. “That is good.”

  “Told you.”

  For a moment we just looked at each other. The earlier excitement had evolved into pleasant peace. Then I said, “Remember that night when I asked you how you really know when you were in love?”

  “Yes.”

  “I understand.”

  Grace’s eyes began to well up with tears. She came over and sat on my lap; laying her head on my shoulder. She began to cry softly. I gently rubbed her back. “It’s okay.”

  “This is the best day of my life. You’re the answer to all my prayers.”

  She leaned back from me and wiped her eyes.

  “Oh, our candles are going out,” I said. The smoke from a dying candle snaked up toward the ceiling.

  She turned back and looked at the remaining candle. “Before it goes out, what do you want to know more than anything?”

  I didn’t answer her for a long time. Then my smile vanished.

  When she saw me frown, her smile
disappeared as well. “What is it?”

  I looked down, afraid to say what I was thinking. “Nothing.”

  “No, what is it?”

  I took a deep breath. “I want to know how this ends.”

  She breathed out slowly, then she turned and stared into the flame. It felt like forever before she spoke. “My stepfather is gone.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

  I waited for more but she didn’t offer anything. “Where are you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Do you see Hawaii?”

  She stared into the flame and I saw a trace of sadness in her eyes. Suddenly she looked back at me, as if the flame had released her. “I see Hawaii all around me,” she said. She kissed me. Then she said, “Let’s dance.” She took my hands and pulled me up.

  The song playing was slow, a Hawaiian lullaby. She draped her arms around my neck, resting her head on my shoulder. I put my arms around her waist, savoring the warmth of her body next to mine. We gently rocked back and forth. It was the greatest moment of my life. Suddenly she leaned back. “I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

  “About what?”

  “Promise me you won’t be angry.”

  “You couldn’t say anything that would make me angry.”

  “Okay.” She closed her eyes tightly then touched her forehead to mine. “I’ve never been to Hawaii.”

  “What?”

  “I’m from Cheyenne, Wyoming.”

  We stopped swaying. “Wyoming?”

  “Hawaii was just someplace I’ve always wanted to be, the way some people think of heaven. After Stan…” She paused with the hurt that name carried. “It was a place I would go in my mind when he was…hurting me.” She looked at me. “Hawaii was my dream. And you gave it to me.” A tear fell down her cheek.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t care where you’re from. I’m just glad you’re here.” I tried to pull her back into me but she stopped me.

  “There’s something else I have to tell you.” She looked down for a moment, then back into my eyes. She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “I called my aunt.”

  “The one who hates you?”

  “She doesn’t hate me. She was really nice. I found out what really happened between her and my mom. Before my mother got married, she told her that she didn’t like Stan and that she shouldn’t marry him. My mother got really upset and told her she never wanted to talk to her again. Then my mother told Stan and he called and screamed at her and told her if he ever saw her or if she called the house she’d regret it. She was actually worried about us. Especially me. When I told her that I’d run away she said she wasn’t surprised. She asked me to come live with her.”

  “In Denver?”

  Grace nodded.

  “Did you tell her everything?”

  “I told her about the baby.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She didn’t ask who the father was. I wasn’t ready to tell her yet. But she said it was good that I called and that she’d help me. She wanted me to come right away.”

  “When was this?”

  “Last Friday. I told her that I couldn’t leave before Christmas.”

  “Why not?”

  She looked at me, puzzled that I didn’t know. “Because of you. I don’t want to leave you.”

  Now my eyes filled with tears.

  It was a few moments before I could speak. “This is good news, right?” I said, trying to sound happy.

  “Yes. It is.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “Friday.”

  I looked down. She suddenly smiled. “You should come with me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I know it’s impossible. I just…” She paused. “…I can’t imagine being without you. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  She fell back into me and I pulled my arms tightly around her. We gently swayed through three or four more songs until the vinyl record began skipping. I went and put the needle back at the beginning of the record. When I returned she was sitting down.

  “I have presents for you too.”

  I sat down. She handed me two gifts. One was a small box wrapped in shiny red paper. The other was a piece of parchment rolled up in a scroll and tied with a yellow ribbon. “They’re not as good as yours.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” I unwrapped the first package; it was a small blue velvet jeweler’s box. I opened the lid; inside was an ornate silver locket.

  “It’s not for you to wear,” she said. “It’s for you to hold.”

  I looked at her, my heart feeling things I’d never felt before. “Thank you.”

  “Open it.”

  I unclasped the locket. On one side, beneath a small glass pane, was a picture of Grace. On the other side, also beneath glass, was a strand of her hair.

  “I thought this way, no matter what happens, you could always have some of me near you.”

  No matter what happens. Something about the way she said this frightened me. She handed me the scrolled up parchment.

  I gently unrolled it. It was a poem written in her graceful handwriting. I read it aloud.

  I WOULD

  By Grace Webb

  If only I could shine in your life as you have in mine. I would.

  If only I could love you as deeply as you have loved me. I would.

  If only I could heal your heart as you have healed mine. I would.

  If only I could lead you to God as you have led me. I would.

  If only I could give you the hope that you’ve given me. I would.

  If only I could stay with you forever. I would.

  We kissed and I held her until it was dark outside. Then I called my Aunt Marge’s house and asked to speak to my mother. She asked how I was feeling and if I had made myself something to eat. She said they would be home in about an hour. Grace helped me clean up. After we finished we went back out to the clubhouse and held each other and talked until we heard the Bee pull into the driveway. I suppose that was one good thing about the Bee; you could hear it coming a block away. I went back inside and climbed in my bed. My mother came in to check on me.

  “Your eyes are red,” she said.

  “I know. But I’ll be okay.”

  Joel didn’t say anything to me. It was just as well. Grace was leaving in two days. I didn’t know how to begin to think about my life without her.

  It was the best and worst night of my entire life.

  CHAPTER Thirty-four

  I have been preparing all day for my trip to Colorado.

  I know it’s the right thing to do, but I can’t stop crying.

  I’m going to miss him so much.

  GRACE’S DIARY

  THURSDAY, DEC. 27

  Predictably work was boring, but it was not without some pleasure: Dean quit. I would have shouted with joy had decorum allowed; I did buy myself an Orange Crush to celebrate. I couldn’t wait to tell Grace. At eleven o’clock sharp I locked the back door, hopped on my bike, and pedaled home.

  As I rounded the corner at the top of my street I heard a strange noise, a loud chirp followed by a blast of static. It wasn’t until I was two houses away from my home that I discovered the source; there was a black and white patrol car parked in my driveway. I wanted to turn around, but I didn’t; I didn’t know what to do. As I rode to the garage to put my bike away I wondered if I should tell Grace.

  Instead, I walked through the back door hoping the police were parked out front for any reason other than the one I feared. Maybe they’d found out I had played hooky from school.

  “I’m home,” I said as I entered. I headed straight for the darkened corridor that led to my bedroom.

  “Eric,” my mother called from the living room.

  I stopped. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.

  “Come here, please.”


  My father sat in his La-Z-Boy and my mother sat next to him in a chair she’d pulled in from the kitchen. Two police officers sat across from them on the couch. Everyone was looking at me.

  One of the officers was young and tall with yellow hair, the other older, balding, rotund, and as short as my mother. Their guns and holsters looked remarkably out of place in our living room. My father looked angry and my mother just looked tense.

  “Yes?” I tried to keep my voice from cracking.

  The older officer spoke first. “Eric, I’m Officer Steele of the Salt Lake County Sheriff’s Office and this is Officer Buttars. Do you know this young woman?” He lifted a copy of the poster of Grace I had seen at the Queen and a dozen other places.

  My throat suddenly felt impossibly dry. I swallowed.

  “Eric,” my father prodded. “Answer them.”

  “Sure. Everyone does. She’s the girl from my school.”

  “Do you know where she is?”

  “No.” I looked past them to a family portrait on the wall.

  “We’ve been told by a witness that you’ve been seen with her,” the young policeman said.

  “Who told you that?” I asked.

  “That’s not important.”

  How was that not important? “I don’t know where she is,” I said.

  “Have you seen her in the last week?” he asked.

  I shouted, “I said I don’t know!”

  My explosion caught everyone off guard including myself. No one spoke for a moment. Then Officer Steele said, “Young man, this is a very serious matter. Taking someone against their will is kidnapping. It’s a crime that carries a long prison term.”

  “I didn’t kidnap her.”

  “Eric,” my mother said. “Where is Madeline?”

  I glanced between them, feeling as transparent as Scotch tape. I was bad at this. I could tell that they knew that I knew. Dread grew heavy in my stomach like a cannon ball. I wanted to go to bed. “Can I go now?”

  “Eric,” my mother repeated firmly, “do you know where Madeline Webb is?”