by Lea Santos
“If anything, Grace, you’re distracting.” She smiled. “No need to apologize.”
Grateful and guilt-ridden both, she unlocked and pushed through the door, then flicked on the overhead light, stopping to take both her coat and Layton’s and hang them on the hall tree. She saw the undulating blue glow of the television set from the otherwise dark living room and hoped it was Lola. She didn’t like to think she’d kept DoDo up all this time.
But when she peered around the corner, it turned out to be neither of them, and in the split second it took her to recognize who sat sprawled on the sofa with her feet on the coffee table, Grace learned the true meaning of curdling blood.
“M-maddee?” Surprise and outrage rendered her speechless for a moment, and Layton appeared at her shoulder.
Madeira smiled innocently, pausing to flick the television on mute. “Oh, hi, Gracie.” She glanced at Layton, then sprang up from the couch to offer her hand. “Hey, nice to finally meet you. Layton, isn’t it? I’m Madeira Pacias.”
“Yes, I know.” Layton bestowed a genuine smile. “I teach at Grace’s school, too. Great assembly.”
Madeira snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right. Gracie mentioned that. Thanks.” Madeira slipped her hands in her pockets and rocked on her feet for a moment, smiling placidly, looking for all the world as if she’d never heard the phrase “third wheel.”
Grace sputtered out of her shock-induced silence, finally. “Maddee, what are you doing here?”
Madeira blinked in bafflement before a understanding dawned. “Oh, hey. I can turn off the movie and go hide out in your room for a while if you’d like, Gracie.”
“M-m-my room?”
“So you can finish your date, of course.” She spread her legs into a comfortable but very sexy stance and crossed her well-defined arms over an equally toned chest. Maddee’s thin T-shirt only emphasized the perfection of her physique.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Grace said.
“Right, sorry. Lola called me and asked if I could come sit with DoDo until she got home.”
“W-why? Where did she go?”
“Out.” Maddee shrugged. “I don’t know. But DoDo was having some mild chest discomfort earlier, so Lola didn’t want her alone. I’ve checked her vitals every hour, and she’s doing fine.”
Grace blinked several times, trying to digest it all and not believing half of it. Still, she didn’t want to handle news about her grandmother’s health in a cavalier manner. She smoothed her fingers through her hair, struggling to sound calm, to stay focused on the most important matter. “DoDo’s having chest pains?”
“Not full-on chest pains.” Madeira gave a little maybe-so, maybe-not shrug. “It could be indigestion. She claimed to be fine, but Lola didn’t want to take any chances.”
“It was really good of you to sit with her,” Layton said.
Madeira grinned broadly. “My pleasure.”
Yeah, I’ll bet, Grace thought. At a loss for what else to do, she started toward the kitchen intent on making coffee but whirled to face the two women at the entrance to the dining room. She couldn’t quite make eye contact with either of them. “Madeira, thank you for coming. I hope we didn’t spoil any plans you might have had.”
“Not a one. My schedule was blank.”
And on a Saturday night, even. Interesting. She cleared her throat. “You can head out now. I’ll look in on DoDo until Lola gets home.”
“Great.” Madeira smoothed her palms together, then jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ve got my equipment here. I’ll just take her vitals one more time.”
Grace paused, but what was she going to say? No, don’t check on my grandmother who’s been having chest pains? “O-okay. Thanks.”
Madeira gave Layton a companionable clap on the back, then disappeared up the steps.
Grace released a breath and glanced at the Layton, dismayed to find her looking as open and accepting as she’d been the whole evening. Poor woman. Grace shouldn’t have dragged her into this nightmare. “Layton? Why don’t we have our coffee in here?” She pointed to the kitchen.
“Ah…look, Grace. I think I’ll just head out.”
“No, please. I’m sorry this—” She didn’t quite know how to apologize, so she simply shrugged and let her arms fall against her thighs, pleading her forgiveness with her eyes.
Layton crossed the room. “Don’t. It’s fine. I can see you’re upset about your grandmother—”
A fresh pang of guilt struck Grace—as if she hadn’t suffered her share of the acrid stuff all night long.
“—and like you said, it was a long week.”
She nodded, touched that Layton would be this understanding about an interloper ruining the end of their date. She truly was a great catch, spot-on girlfriend material, and totally wasted on a fool like Grace.
“You’re right.” Grace sighed, smiling as she tilted her head to the side. “You’re awfully sweet, you know that?”
Layton inclined her head. “Thank you.”
“No. Thank you. For a wonderful evening.” Grace walked her slowly to the door and handed over her coat.
“We’ll have to do this again soon.”
“Sure,” Grace said, feeling like a louse.
Layton leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “I’ll see you Monday?”
She nodded. “Yes.” Grace watched her out to her car, then shut and deadbolted the door. Sagging, she rested her forehead against the cold, solid wood. How could she go out on a date with a seemingly perfect woman and end up at home with Madeira, and why did it feel so goddamned right…and wrong…at the same time? Lifting her head slightly, she clonked it on the door a couple of times, hoping blunt trauma might rattle out the demons of reckless stupidity.
“That good a date, fierita?” Madeira asked wryly from the top of the stairs. She wore a sympathetic expression, as though Grace’s current state of discombobulation had anything whatsoever to do with her evening.
Grace turned and watched Maddee descend, too drained to deny, too glad to see her to keep the fires of annoyance stoked beyond a simmering blue flame. She couldn’t blame Madeira. Lola had clearly set this up, and to Madeira’s credit, she hadn’t pulled the jealousy scene Grace had feared when she first saw her sitting there. “Don’t even get me started.”
Madeira paused on the landing and regarded her with sympathy. “I’m here if you need to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk.” She limped toward the kitchen, not wanting anything except to get away from the distraction of Madeira, the allure of her comfort.
“Okay, but if you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
“I’ll be here. What are friends for?”
Gracie ignored Madeira, but she trailed Grace like a regret.
Yet another regret.
“Layton wasn’t mean to you, was she? Or was it just boring?”
Grace spun to face Madeira wanting, needing to dispel her false impressions. “Layton wasn’t mean or boring or anything else. She’s an amazing, kind woman and the date was”—she flipped her hands, palms up—“perfect,” she finished, in a funereal tone. Reaching out, she turned Madeira toward the front door and propelled her that way. “But, like I’ve said, I don’t want to talk about it. My week has been hell. I’m tired. And I’m perfectly capable of caring for DoDo, so you’re free to leave.”
Madeira went willingly, almost cheerfully. “Okay. But I have to say, it makes me happy to know you had a perfect date with a perfect woman, Gracie. You deserve that.”
“Thanks,” Grace said, thrown off guard and not quite trusting Madeira’s heartfelt admission. That really idiotic part of her didn’t want Madeira to be this happy she was with another woman, either.
A pause. “You going out with her again?” A silence ensued while Madeira gathered her belongings, not looking at her. Bag packed and secured with its plastic clips, she slung it over her shoulder and cocked her head. “Gracie?
”
Grace sagged against the wall. “Probably not.”
Madeira looked completely baffled. “Why not? I thought you said she was a great—”
“She is,” Grace said, heading toward the stairs. Halfway up, when her foot creaked loudly on step twelve, she turned and met Madeira’s gaze. “Layton is an awesome catch.” She’s just not you, Grace thought traitorously. “Good night.”
“I’m sure it will work out if it’s meant to. A smart woman told me that once.”
Grace gave her a listless smile. “Yeah.”
“Anyway.” Madeira blew her a kiss. “Sleep with the angels.”
Gripping the railing, Grace gaped at Madeira while shock swirled black stars in her vision. Her heart sprang up to lodge firmly in her throat.
Sleep with the angels?
No way. It couldn’t be.
When the door snicked shut behind Madeira, Grace collapsed onto the step, dumbfounded, hand still clutching the smooth wooden railing. Her breaths shallowed, part pain, part wonder. Would Lola be so cruel as to set her up like this, suggesting Madeira use that particular meaningful phrase? Mama had bid her and Lola good night with those exact words every night of their way-too-short life together. Grace pondered it and decided…no. No matter how much matchmaking Lola thought Madeira and Grace were meant for each other, she wouldn’t stoop so low as to manipulate Grace’s emotions in such a painful way. In which case, it could only be…a sign?
Another sign?
No.
Grace threaded her fingers into her hair, staring at the door and toying with the abstract concept of angels on earth. She didn’t want to believe it. The whole thing was fetched so damn far, not even Jerry Springer would believe it. Still…there had to be an explanation, and Grace meant to find it before she lost any more of her sanity.
*
Madeira sat in her truck for a few minutes struggling to slow the blood thumping through her temples. She’d done it. She’d survived seeing Gracie with another woman despite the fact it had nearly killed her on the spot. She knew this wasn’t the politically correct response, but she’d wanted to tear Layton to shreds, bang her own chest, and drag Gracie off to some cave where she could brand her permanently.
Mine.
Wouldn’t Gracie just love that? She laughed with scorn, then scrubbed the heels of her hands into her tired eyes. Okay, focus. Starting with her tight forehead and jaw and working down, she concentrated on relaxing each and every one of her muscles, one at a time. She needed to chill before turning her key in the ignition, or she’d be as much of a hazard on the road as that semi driver had been a year ago.
This backing-off plan was going to be harder than she’d ever imagined. Granted, Gracie had said she didn’t intend to go out with Layton again, an admission that had provided a moment of satisfaction. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t go out with someone else, and maybe the next woman would be the one who made Gracie’s face light up with love.
And then I’ll die inside.
Madeira’s grip convulsed on the steering wheel. Wasn’t gonna happen. Call her a blind optimist, but she couldn’t make herself believe fate could be that cruel. She jabbed the button to roll down the window, in desperate need of a slap of cool air to bring her to her senses. Closing her eyes, she leaned toward the open window and inhaled deeply. The night smelled of fallen leaves and the promise of cold, the kind of scents that made Madeira want to find a creative way to keep her woman warm all night long. Who would be keeping Gracie warm when winter came? Madeira’s fists clenched automatically, but she made an effort to relax them.
Stay calm. She’ll come around eventually.
God, Madeira prayed it were true. She had a hell of a lot banked on this plan of Iris’s, despite her reservations. She also hoped that Lola and DoDo had had the right idea tonight, thrusting her in Gracie’s face like they had. She felt a twinge of guilt for the manipulation, then figured she’d do just about anything to keep from losing Gracie forever, even if it meant pretending DoDo was ill—which had been the wily old abue’s brainstorm in the first place and one Madeira had argued vehemently against. But DoDo would have none of it. The idea was to keep Madeira fresh in Gracie’s mind without any pressure, without Madeira tipping her emotional hand. She’d managed pretty well until just before she’d left.
Madeira snorted and revved the idling engine of her truck.
What on earth had made her blow Gracie a kiss and bid her good night with that sentimental phrase her mother had used when she and Toro had been little girls?
Sleep with the angels?
Madeira hadn’t thought of those words in a decade or more, and suddenly POOF, there they were on the tip of her tongue, clear evidence that seeing Gracie stripped her of what little sense she had left. If Madeira wasn’t careful, Gracie would pick up on the fact that Madeira wasn’t as objective about the whole thing as she pretended.
And then she’d be back at square one.
No Gracie. No chance.
Madeira’s resolve hardened. Tomorrow night at dinner, she’d be more careful, more distant. No matter how difficult it was, Madeira told herself as she pulled away from the curb, she wouldn’t let her love for Gracie trip her up. She’d be so damned platonic at dinner, Gracie would wonder if Madeira was the long-lost sister she never knew she had.
*
After getting ready for bed, Grace clutched her pillow to her chest and crept down the hall, acting on pure sisterly instinct. She eased open the conniving little ho’s door, absolutely certain she’d find Lola snoring beneath the covers. And if she did find her there, she’d be compelled to beat her inert form with the pillow until Lola begged for mercy and ’fessed up.
Grace held her breath until the hall light cast a cone of illumination into the dark room…slowly…slowly…and onto the bed.
Empty?
Huh.
She relaxed against the doorjamb, one foot atop the other. So maybe it hadn’t been a set-up. A wave of relief washed over her, followed quickly by a rough slap of tension. If the whole thing hadn’t been a ruse, what had prompted Madeira to use Mama’s favorite tuck-in phrase?
Divine intervention?
Grace hugged her arms around her middle.
There was only one way to find out for sure. Padding back toward her room, Gracie made herself a promise. The next time the opportunity presented itself, she’d ask Madeira point-blank what made her say it. If she didn’t lose her nerve, that is. She shivered at the prospect of hearing the answer, unwilling to believe it had been anything but a coincidence. Never mind that DoDo insisted there were no coincidences in this life, only signs.
Graciela Inez Obregon did not believe in signs.
Chapter Twelve
Hacer de tripas corazón.
What can’t be cured must be endured.
Dinner on Sunday started out as a pleasant surprise considering the tumultuous evening that had preceded it. Madeira made no mention of Grace’s date with Layton, instead regaling her, Lola, and DoDo with interesting tales from her work while they ate one of DoDo’s special meals—paella. She tried to tone down the stories, but DoDo would have none of that. She kept pressing for gory details until Madeira relented. By the time the homemade caramel flan was served, Madeira had all three of them equal parts engrossed and grossed out, and Grace had finally relaxed.
And then the other shoe fell.
“So, let me ask you this, Madeira, because it’s been on my mind,” said DoDo. “Is it true what they said in the papers about you becoming an EMT because of Graciela’s accident?”
Grace tensed, but the only one who caught it was Madeira. She reached beneath the table and covered Grace’s quaking hand with her own as if to reassure. Their eyes met, and Grace gulped back a moan at how tingly one simple touch made her feel. Maddee had been completely hands-off lately, and Grace had missed the feel of her.
What a loser.
How was it Grace could go out with a perfect-on-paper woman one night and f
eel nothing beyond friendship, and the next night sit in her kitchen with her grandmother, sister, and a woman she claimed she wanted no part of and feel…everything? Grace didn’t get it. Was she destined to be attracted only to women who would hurt her? Maybe she did take after Mama more than she’d figured.
“Yes,” Madeira said finally, tearing Gracie out of her ruminations. “It is true.” She looked down at her flan, lips pressed together.
Everyone waited with bated breath for her to continue.
“The truth is, I felt so helpless under that car. Gracie was”—she shook her head at the painful memory—“really hurt. I could see that, but I had no idea how to help.”
“What are you talking about? You did great,” Grace insisted.
Madeira shrugged as if to imply she disagreed, then looked back at DoDo. “After the police told me she died”—she broke off, her throat working over some emotion that etched brackets of pain around her mouth—“I couldn’t help but think she might have lived had I known what to do.”
“But I didn’t die.”
“Didn’t matter. I thought you had, believed it with my whole heart.” She met and held Grace’s gaze, eyes warm and full of enough affection that Grace’s stomach contracted. “I became a medic so I’d never feel that lost, that useless again.”
DoDo and Lola sighed, but Gracie just stared, feeling so mixed up and emotional, so grateful their paths had crossed yet still desperate to escape Maddee’s spell. It seemed like forever since she’d seen that old familiar flame in Maddee’s eyes, and Grace basked in its warmth like a backpacker with only one log, bellied up to a campfire that would dwindle to ashes far too soon. “You weren’t useless,” Grace said, trying to convey the depth of that statement with her gaze. “I’m sorry you felt that way. I would’ve been lost and panicked without you.”
To Grace’s surprise and dismay, Maddee tossed off a carefree smile and released her hand beneath the table. “Eh, don’t sweat it. If it hadn’t been for that day, I wouldn’t have my current career, which I love.” She took up her fork, as though they’d just been discussing nothing more important than why she’d chosen cargo pants instead of blue jeans that day. “I have you to thank for leading me to a very fulfilling job.”