The Falling of Grace (The Falling Series Book 2)

by Marisa Oldham

  Jaden breaks their embrace. He runs his hand over her face and stares.

  “What?”

  “I was really worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.” She smiles. Doing her best to hide her delicate emotions.

  “Yeah, yeah, you are,” he says, raising his eyebrows and changing his tone to a flirtatious one.

  “Stop that!” She whacks him. “Want to go have breakfast? I know the best little diner just past downtown. You’ve never been to Ocean View before,” she says, realizing this.

  Jaden laughs. “And it doesn’t look like I’m missing much.”

  Grace scowls.

  Michelle walks into Grace’s room, wearing a purple pajama short set and holding two mugs. “Jaden!”

  “Hi, sweetheart.” Jaden gets up from the bed and hugs Michelle after she places the mugs on the dresser.

  “What are you doing here,” Michelle squeaks.

  “Your sister decided that she was going to ignore me and scare the shit out of me.”

  “That’s not true.” Grace laughs.

  Michelle takes Jaden’s face into her hands and inspects it. “When did you get here?”

  “About an hour and a half ago. James was leaving with his family when I pulled in.”

  “You should’ve woken us up, silly.”

  “I wanted you lovely ladies to get your beauty sleep.”

  “When I woke up he was sitting there watching me sleep.”

  “Creep,” Michelle jokes.

  “We’re going to breakfast, want to come?” Grace asks Michelle, stepping out of bed.

  “Sure.” Michelle smiles. “I can’t let you keep this guy all to yourself,” she says, taking Jaden by the hand.

  “Well, let’s get dressed and get going.”

  Grace, Jaden, and Michelle have breakfast at the quaint diner on the outskirts of town where Grace used to work when she was a teenager. During breakfast, Jaden asked them if they would show him around Ocean View. Grace was happy to, but Michelle said she had to make some phone calls.

  Jaden and Grace drop Michelle off and head back downtown.

  “It’s just how you described it,” Jaden says, while pulling onto Main Street.

  “It hasn’t changed much at all since I was a kid.” Thoughts of Ian, the past, rush into her mind. She goes silent and stays that way for a long moment. Turning, she smiles with tears in her eyes. “Would you like to see the lake?”

  Jaden nods. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

  Grace smiles. “We’ll see.”

  Pointing to a spot near the shore, Grace forces a smile. “That’s where Ian first kissed me.”

  “I think you’re just torturing yourself now, sugar.”

  She walks toward the spot and when she reaches it, she sits down, bringing her knees to her chest. It only takes Jaden a moment before he is beside her. Grace lays her head on her arm and looks at Jaden. He smiles, but she can see the concern written all over his face. “I’m going to be okay. You don’t have to worry as much as you do.”

  Jaden mimics her position and stares at her. His dark eyes search her face. “How are you doing about…about the other thing.”

  She does not need him to explain. The cracking of his voice and the gentle tone he used is all she needs to know he is talking about what happened with Sean. She lifts her eyes and watches the water lap against the sandy shore of the lake, ripples of water catching sunlight and sparkling. A warm breeze blows through the tall pines and she takes a deep, soothing breath in through her nose. “I’m scared. Every creak or bump in the night has me on edge. I have nightmares almost every night.”

  “Oh, Grace. I’m so sorry.”

  She lays her head back down on her arm.

  “Do you remember more of what happened that night?”

  “Sometimes I get new flashbacks and they’re horrifying. When that happens, I work. Painting is great therapy.”

  “When is the trial?”

  “In a few months. Sean asked for a speedy trial.”

  “Do you have to testify?”

  “The DA said I might, but they have so much evidence against him I probably won’t need to.”

  Jaden reaches out and grabs hold of her hand. “I’ll be there with you.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  “Same here, sugar.”

  They sit quietly for over an hour, Jaden caressing Grace’s back and giving her quiet time to think. She appreciates this more than she thinks he knows.

  Grace stands. “Wanna go?”

  “Only if you do.”

  She puts her hand out and pulls him to his feet.

  The walk back to Jaden’s truck is quiet until Grace speaks, “How’s the band.” She loves how his eyes gleam when he talks about his music.

  “Pretty good actually. We’re booking a lot of shows in L.A.”

  “How’s Micah?”

  Jaden laughs. “I think he’s seeing someone, but he’s super secretive about it.”

  “Micah? Seeing just one someone?” Grace laughs and finds it hard to believe. “My how things change.”

  Jaden grabs her hand. “He keeps going out of town but won’t give details. Before he leaves, he’s walking around like he’s on cloud nine and when he gets back he’s all freakin’ Mr. Gloom. He’s been writing chick songs that are mushy as shit lately.”

  At the mention of love songs, Grace misses having someone write love songs for her.

  “I keep trying to pry it outta him…but man, he just won’t cave.” Jaden smiles.

  “Are he and Coral getting along still?”

  “Yeah, they’re cool.” Jaden’s smile fades. “Everyone is cool except me and Ian. If it weren’t for us, Black Dog would probably get back together.”

  “Have you tried talking to him?”

  Jaden stops walking and looks down at the ground reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He slaps the pack in his palm then looks up, avoiding Grace’s eyes. He places a smoke between his lips and sucks. She has always found the way a cigarette dangles from his fingers to be sexy. She also finds the way they hang from Ian’s lips to be an extreme turn on, no matter how much she detests smoking. Everything, even her best friend smoking, reminds her of Ian.

  “What’s the use? I mean, he’s never going to forgive me.”

  “Come on, let’s get going.” Grace takes the cigarette out of his mouth, grinds it onto a rock, and slips the butt into her pocket.

  Chapter 16

  Ian climbs the stairs of the familiar Victorian home, with his stomach in knots. After trying Jaden’s again, with no luck of finding Grace there, he could only think of one more place that she might be. Showing up at James’ house is a risk, he knows this, he will be lucky if James does not punch him right in the face, but he has to keep looking for Grace. He sees the curtains pull back, but cannot see who is in the window. He draws in a deep breath before he knocks. It takes a while before the door opens. A woman he has only seen in photographs answers the door.

  Sara’s large dark eyes widen. “Can I help you,” she asks. She brushes her chestnut, shoulder length hair behind her ear.

  “Hi…ah, Sara, my name is Ian. I’m…I’m Grace’s boy…friend.”

  She smiles, but he sees her dislike for him burning in her eyes. “I was wondering if you or James might know where she is.”

  She clears her throat. “Grace is at home, in Paris.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.” Sara folds her arms over her chest.

  “I…I went there.”

  “You did?” Her eyebrows shoot up.

  “Yeah, I really need to talk to her.”

  “I’ll tell her that you came looking for her.”

  Ian smiles. “Thank you. Is she…is she okay?”

  Sara frowns. “Ian, Grace doesn’t want you to look for her. She doesn’t want to be involved with you anymore.”

  Ian lowers his head. “Could
you still tell her I need to talk to her?”

  “I’ll let her know you came here, but you should really just go home. Don’t go back to Paris. It’s over.”

  The pain of her words is too much. Ian turns without saying anything, makes it down to the bottom of the stairs, and looks over his shoulder. “Thank you, Sara.”

  He can hear the door close behind him. He gets into the limo and asks the driver to take him downtown. Once downtown, he rents a car, pays the driver with a wad of cash, and heads back to James’ house. His gut tells him that Sara is keeping something from him. He needs to be sure that Grace is not at James’ house before he heads back to Los Angeles.

  Four hours later, there has been no movement at James’ home. Ian rolls onto his left hip, trying to relieve the pressure and dull pain in his right one. His back hurts from sitting in the car all this time and sweat pools under his arms. Finally, he catches motion in James’ backyard. He immediately recognizes James. His mind flashes back to how good James treated him when he was a teenager and yearning to talk to him seeps into his heart. Then, the last time Ian spoke to James comes to mind. The way James yelled at him to keep away from Grace. Ian smiles when he sees Abigail laughing and playing with her father and recalls how much Grace truly adores her niece. James walks into the garage. A memory flashes through Ian’s mind of what it looked like years ago when he and Grace would spend hours in there, him playing the piano and Grace sitting by his side, closing her eyes and listening to him sing. A few moments later, James walks out of the garage with Abigail in his arm and then goes into the house.

  For the rest of the night, no one comes out of the house. He can see lights on in the living room and at suppertime, he catches a glimpse through the slight opening in the curtains, of the small family sitting down at the dining room table. Grace isn’t here, he thinks, as he reaches for the key and turns it in the ignition. She would be eating with them. He takes a longer look at the house, his former home, the house where he fell in love with Grace’s family years before. The pain in his heart swells while he drives away from it and drives away from the last hope he had of finding Grace.

  Instead of getting a room at a motel, Ian drives up to the lake. He has no idea what makes him do this, but he needs to be alone and does not want to see another face. With only the clothes in his suitcase, he bundles together a few of his shirts for a makeshift pillow and settles down to sleep in the backseat of the rental car. He settles down to catch a few hours of sleep in the back of his rental car. The call of an owl, high in the pines, and the song of the crickets lure him into the first sleep he has had in days.

  ~ ~ ~

  I’ve lost all hope. Grace doesn’t want me to find her. It really is over? Ian wonders, turning the corner into a dimly lit alley in Los Angeles. A plethora of images from the past race through Ian’s mind. The one he is counting on is which door to open out of the few that are scattered behind buildings.

  As he walks, he glances through the propped open, backstage door to The Shadow Box. He anticipates seeing a stagehand coming out with a drum or some type of equipment, but all he finds is an empty hallway. His heart sinks while his eyes go to the exact spot where Grace caught him cheating years ago. He looks away down the dark seedy alley, unable to endure the physical pain in his chest. He follows his memories looking for the faded industrial door with peeling paint. He reaches it and pulls it open. The smell of rotting flesh and stale booze attacks his senses. The same scent that haunts his dreams. Someone coughs inside, but the light coming from a candle does nothing to help him make out the silhouetted shapes in the distance. Following only faint images in his mind, he moves forward and spots a staircase to his left. Knowing there’s no turning back once he heads upstairs, he takes the first step.

  More candles illuminate the second floor of the abandoned building. The bodies huddled together on the floor and some sprawled across it, seem to be the same that were there years before. Ian narrows his eyes as he scans the room looking for the person he came to see. He spots him in the corner by the window flicking ashes from his cigarette, his reedy pale face lit by moonlight. Their eyes meet and the rail-thin man rises and walks toward Ian.

  “Ian Taylor.” The man’s voice is like slime on his skin. He reaches out and Ian recoils. “Ah, man, don’t be like that. We’re old buddies.”

  Ian reaches out and shakes his hand, pulling his away almost as quickly as he takes it.

  “Mr. Rock n’ fucking Roll. I never thought I’d see you around this shithole again.”

  Ian kicks at a sheet of newspaper and his eyes fall to the floor. Ian never imagined he would set foot in this place again either. Shame falls over him as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. “I need an 8 ball.”

  “I heard you were clean.”

  “Just give me the fucking heroin. I’m not here for chit chat.”

  The man counts the bills Ian shoved in his hand then pulls a small baggie in the shape of a ball from his pocket. Ian grabs it and shoves it deep into the pocket of his jeans.

  “Pleasure doing business with you, rock star.”

  Without another word, Ian turns and walks away.

  The drugs burn a hole in his jeans the entire drive home. Numerous times, he thought about pulling over and tossing them, but his mind convinced his body that the euphoric high was the only refuge from the pain that was eating him alive. Now, crouched onto the toilet at his condo, a spoon, cotton balls, a lighter, and a syringe on the granite counter next to him, Ian buries his head in his hands, one hand clutching onto the baggie. You’re going to be a father, he thinks as tears spill from his eyes. What the fuck are you doing? This isn’t the way to solve this problem. He battles with his conscious a moment longer.

  Ian slams the bag of drugs on the counter and screams, letting out all the agonizing breath he has. He pounds his fist into the wall repeatedly until his knuckles bleed. “Grace,” he yells, as if she can hear him if he screams loud enough. Dropping to his knees, he cradles his bloody fist. He turns and looks at the drugs that taunt him and grabs them. Using his teeth, he rips it open and pours the powder on the counter then prepares it for injection.

  Ian’s tongue rakes over his bottom lip as he ties the tourniquet around his bicep. Feeling for a vein, he runs his fingers over his forearm.

  The moment the warm liquid rushes into his vein, the physical pain in his chest and pictures of Grace in his mind fade. Scooting up against the wall, he leans back and pushes more fluid from the syringe into his body. Every care and worry leaves him.

  Only minutes later, his heart aches for Grace, again. Not ready to let go of it, the needle lies between his fingers. “More,” he moans and then increases the dose. His mouth goes dry. The room spins. Euphoria takes over. Struggling for breath, Ian drops the syringe to the marble floors when both of his arms go limp in unison. His eyes roll up into his head and air escapes from his lungs. The rhythm of his heartbeat slows. His head crashes onto the marble floor. Everything goes black.

  ~ ~ ~

  For several weeks, Grace wakes up early and works in the garage until late at night. She takes breaks to have dinner with her family on most nights, but remains focused on her art. All of her heartache and trauma flows out of her fingertips and onto whatever form of art calls to her each day. She has created enough artwork for an entire gallery showing.

  Grace is so absorbed in painting that she does not hear the footsteps on the concrete garage floor.

  “Hello?” Sara’s voice pulls Grace out of concentration.

  “Oh, hey!” Grace says, happy to see her smiling face.

  Sara looks around at the many pieces of artwork gathered around the garage. “You’ve been busy.”

  Grace smiles. “I just can’t stop.”

  “That’s good. I’m glad that you have your art to help you through this hard time.”

  Grace puts her paintbrush down on the edge of her easel and walks over to a stack of painted canvases.

  “This on
e is for you,” she says, handing Sara a painting.

  Although confident in her work, Grace looks over Sara’s shoulder while she views the painting.

  “It’s me and Abby!”

  “It is,” Grace says, smiling as she lays her hand on Sara’s shoulder softly. Grace’s eyes scan for imperfections in the painting as she scans Abigail in the portrait. A sense of pride overtakes Grace when she realizes that she got the crystal blue color of Abigail’s eyes exactly right and the detail of the tight, dark ringlets in her hair.

  “Oh, Grace, it’s just beautiful! I love it!” Her eyes tear up.

  Grace has always been fond of Sara, if not only for the fact that she makes James happy, but for the past several weeks, the women have grown closer. Grace has learned that she can confide in her, so much so that she recanted her horrible ordeal with Sean to Sara one night while sitting on the front porch. Michelle had to return to Paris for work, leaving only James and Sara for Grace to seek comfort in.

  Sara holds the painting outstretched before her and admires it a while longer. “You are such an amazing artist.”

  Grace bows her head and smiles from cheek to cheek.

  “In fact that’s why I came out here. There’s a new art gallery that just opened downtown.”

  Grace looks at Sara, surprised. “An art gallery in Ocean View?”

  Sara laughs. “Yeah, can you believe that? I was wondering if you would like to go with me tomorrow. James said he would watch Abby.”

  “That would be great!”

  Besides her trips to the art store, Grace has not ventured outside of James’ home or his garage in weeks. She needed a girl’s afternoon away.

  The gallery is located on Main Street in downtown Ocean View. Situated between a hardware store and a candy store that have been doing business in the brick building since the nineteen twenties, it seems out of place. Etched on the glass of the door that heads into the gallery, in elegant gold lettering, are the words, McKay Galleries, with the hours of operation. Grace pushes the heavy door open, and the savory sounds of Moonlight Sonata by Ludwig Van Beethoven tantalizes her ears. The stark white walls, pure white tiled floors, and modern white desk are a contradiction to the outside of the historic building.