The Way of Grace (Miller's Creek Novels)

by Bryant, Cathy

  A bell jangled above her head as Grace entered the small bakery in downtown Bellview early Wednesday morning. Filled to capacity, the room quieted temporarily as eyes turned her way.

  Heat flooded her cheeks. Though the place was quaint and rustic, she longed for the familiar faces at Granny’s Kitchen. But this was her new home now, and the only way to get to know these people was to join them. It was time to put the past behind her. She released a slow breath. The aroma of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls floated around her head and drew her closer to the counter.

  “Can I help you, miss?” The middle-aged woman, her red apron dotted with flour, drummed her fingers against the counter, obviously running a tad shy in the patience department.

  Grace grimaced at the prices. “I’ll have a cinnamon roll and water, please.” She counted out the money while the lady wrapped the pastry and rang it up on an antique cash register.

  Her hands full, she turned to find a place to sit, only to realize that every table was taken. Close to walking out and traipsing back to her apartment, an elderly man near the door sent a smile and motioned her over to the table he shared with his wife.

  He stood as she approached. “We’d love to have you join us.” He offered his hand as she set her plate and glass on the table. “I’m Jake, and this is my wife Julia.”

  “So nice to meet you both.” Grace smiled and pulled out a ladder-back chair which instantly reminded her of Mama Beth.

  “Are you new in town?” Julia, her salt-and-pepper hair clipped close to her head, smiled broadly.

  “Yes. My third day here. I’m working for Mr. Thomas and leasing the small apartment above his office.”

  The couple exchanged a knowing look in the noisy café.

  Grace forked a piece of gooey roll in her mouth, savoring the cinnamon and cream cheese frosting. A cold glass of milk would make this even better. She sipped her water. “So have you two lived here long?”

  “Going on seven years.” Jake’s white bushy eyebrows arched slightly. “I’m the pastor at Grace Fellowship down the road.”

  She brightened. “Is that the cute little country church I passed on the outskirts of town?”

  “That’s the one. We’d be tickled pink to have you join us Sunday.”

  A smile blossomed in her heart and moved to her face. Only here a few days, and already she had a place to go to church. Though the thought brought joy, it also brought a bit of apprehension. Bellview was smaller than Miller’s Creek. What if no one welcomed her? “I’ll be there.”

  Though conversation was a bit uncomfortable, Grace forced herself to make small talk. Both Jake and Julia had a way of making her feel like a long-time friend, and by the time she finished her breakfast, she felt less lonely.

  Before leaving for work, she jotted the times for Bible study and worship on her napkin, and then hurried out the door and down the street.

  In less than a minute, she entered the office of the Thomas Law Firm, a dusty old building sorely in need of a good dusting and several gallons of paint. A sneeze erupted. It always took a good half hour for her nose to grow desensitized to the reek of stale cigars.

  Mr. Thomas stepped from his office as she put her purse away, a stogie clamped between his teeth. “You finish that research I gave you yesterday?”

  “Yes sir.” She handed him the file folder from her desk.

  He perused it with an occasional snort. Something about him reminded her of pictures she’d seen of Winston Churchill, though Mr. Thomas was much less noble-looking.

  The phone shrilled from her desk. “Thomas Law Firm. May I help you?”

  The same rough voice she’d heard yesterday on at least two occasions sounded again. “Let me talk to Thomas.”

  She decided against asking for a name, since yesterday’s attempts had proved futile. “Just a moment please.”

  Grace held the phone toward Mr. Thomas. “It’s for you. The same gentleman who called twice yesterday.”

  His eyes flickered with some indefinable emotion as he uttered a curse and moved into his office.

  Thankfully, he left a few minutes later, with a comment that he’d be out the rest of the day. She finished the work he’d given her by mid-afternoon and spent the remainder of her time cleaning up around the office. When the day ended, the front windows were clean enough to see out, but her clothes now needed washing, a task she’d have to do by hand.

  A few minutes after five, she headed upstairs to her apartment to change clothes and then walked a couple of blocks to purchase a few groceries with the small amount of money she had left. Hopefully Mr. Thomas would pay her on Friday so she’d have enough money for next week’s food. As she made her way back, a small mew sounded from behind her. She turned to see a scrawny yellow kitten following. He looked up at her and mewed again, a strangled plea for help.

  Her memory flew to Millie. To take on a new pet somehow felt like high treason. Besides, she barely had enough funds to feed herself. “Shoo, cat.” She lunged toward it and waved her hand.

  The cat sat back on his haunches and continued to mew piteously.

  Frustration pushed the air from her lungs. “Oh, all right.”

  A few minutes later she shared a can of tuna with the cat, which only stopped eating long enough to scratch.

  A sudden wave of loneliness passed over her. Right now it felt like her only friend in the world was a flea-bitten, scrawny yellow cat.

  A pounding throb pierced his skull. Matt groaned and forced his eyelids apart. Afraid to turn his head for fear of intense pain, he kept it immobilized and moved his gaze around the unfamiliar space. Was he in a hospital?

  “Hey, bro, glad to see you’re awake.” Andy stepped into his line of vision, his eyes concerned, his voice comforting. “How you feel?”

  “Like someone tried to beat my brains out with a crowbar.” The whispered words made his throat feel like he’d gargled with acid. “What happened?”

  “You mean you don’t remember the fight you had with a tower speaker?”

  Matt tried to shake his head, and immediately winced at waves of pain. “I’m guessing the speaker won?”

  “Good assumption. Let me call the nurse.” His brother punched a red button on the bed.

  “I’m in a hospital?” Where at and for how long?

  “Yep. That’s what happens when you pick a fight with a speaker bigger than you.”

  “And the band? Did they go on to the next concert?”

  A wry expression crept across Andy’s features. “And a few after that.”

  Matt’s eyes opened wide, and he struggled to sit up, in spite of searing pain and wooziness. “What day is it?”

  Andy gently pinned his shoulders to the bed. “Whoa there, bucko, take it easy. You’ve had a nice three-day nap.”

  Gracie! Thoughts of her exploded in his mind. “I’ve gotta get to Gracie.”

  “I already told you. She’s fine.”

  Too weak and tired to overcome his brother, Matt stopped struggling and laid back against the bed. “What about your work?”

  “Everything’s on hold until you’re better.”

  The door swung open, and a tall dude dressed in a white coat entered with an electronic tablet, a young woman in scrubs behind him. “Our guy’s awake, I see.” He laid down the computer, retrieved a pen light from the breast pocket of his coat, and leaned in to check Matt’s eyes, the scent of his cinnamon gum wafting in the air. “I’m Dr. Stevens. I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I’m pretty sure I know. Major headache, right?”

  “If that’s all you learned in med school, I sure hope you got a tuition break.”

  The dark-haired man laughed. “Glad to see that knot on your head didn’t take away your sense of humor. Thirsty?”

  Matt nodded, slowly this time. “Like I swallowed the Sahara.”

  “Melissa, let’s get our new friend some water.”

  Her brown hair pulled back in a bouncing pony tail, the nurse whisked to the counter, poured water into
a plastic cup, and brought it to Matt. “Hold on. I’m gonna raise the bed so you can drink without taking a bath.” She reached below the side of the bed, and the top whirred to a slight incline.

  He guzzled the lukewarm liquid. Never had warm water tasted so good.

  She pulled the cup away. “You might wanna slow down a bit. Take small sips.”

  “Don’t wanna lose it as soon as you drink it, do you?” The doctor used a stylus to punch the tablet screen and then raised his gaze to Matt. “I don’t know how much your brother told you, but you came here by ambulance late Monday night with a concussion and a huge gash. No fractures, but you were unconscious and had quite a bit of swelling.” He pocketed the stylus. “Sometimes swelling can cause seizures, so we kept you in a medically-induced coma to let the swelling go down.”

  “What day is it?”

  “Thursday.”

  His throat constricted. What if something terrible had already happened to Gracie? He once more struggled to sit up, the pain in his head like a white-hot icepick plunging through his ear.

  The doctor and nurse immediately held him down, with the former getting most irate. “This ain’t gonna work, Mr. Tyler. If I have to tie you to the bed, I will. We need to observe you for the next few days. Your motor skills, memory, and verbal skills all seem to be intact, but we need to run a battery of tests to make sure.”

  Tears welled in Matt’s eyes and slid down his cheeks as he relaxed the weight of his head on the pillow. Normally he’d have whisked the tears away, especially in front of other people, but at the moment nothing mattered except getting to Gracie. Lord Jesus, watch over her and protect her.

  Dr. Stevens tucked the electronic pad under one arm and turned his gaze to Andy. “Depression’s pretty common after this type of brain trauma. Keep an eye on him and let us know if it gets worse. If necessary, I’ll prescribe medication to help him sleep.”

  Sleep? He’d been asleep for three days, and they wanted him to sleep some more?

  “He might also experience confusion, so what he says might not make sense.” Now the doctor faced Matt. “You can have sips of water in small quantities, and I’ll have the nurse bring you some broth. Only liquids for a while to make sure you can keep food on your stomach. I’ll be back later this afternoon to check on you, okay?” He strode from the room, his tennis shoes squeaking against the tile floor.

  Andy refilled the cup and brought it to Matt’s lips. “Here’s some more water.”

  “I can do it.” The words erupted in a growl, but he didn’t care. “Can you at least help me sit up so I don’t drown myself?”

  His brother’s eyebrows scuttled up his forehead. “Sure, but you’d better lose the ‘tude.”

  Matt pressed his lips together. Andy was only trying to help. “Sorry. I’m just worried about Gracie.”

  “Worrying won’t help you get better any faster, Matt. I’m sure she’s fine. She’s got a pretty good head on her shoulders. Well, except for the breaking and entering episode.” Andy raised the head of the bed. “What has you so bothered anyway?”

  Matt sipped the water while he relayed the information the private detective had given him. “Anyway, whoever you have working for you isn’t really named Jason Dent.”

  Andy stood with hands akimbo, his mouth at work like he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure he should.

  “What is it? Tell me.” Matt didn’t care if he sounded demanding and curt. He had to know.

  His brother raked both hands through his curly hair. “Okay, but promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  “Okay. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

  “I’ve known for some time that Jason wasn’t who he claimed to be, but I haven’t been able to say anything. I’ve been working with the FBI while they keep tabs on him.”

  Matt’s jaw went slack. “FBI?” His mind raced, immediately honing in on the conversation he’d had with his professor buddy. “Do they think Jason’s dangerous?”

  “Nah. They think he works with some political powerhouse for the purpose of affecting the outcome of various cases. That’s about all I know.”

  “Do they suspect Gracie, too?”

  “I think they were afraid she’d get involved.”

  Matt brought a hand up to gently massage his forehead. While she wouldn’t intentionally get involved, her insatiable desire for justice could be a problem. He closed his eyes and groaned. “I’ve gotta make sure she’s okay.”

  Andy moved to the window and opened the curtains just enough to let in natural light, his jaw cemented. “Not gonna happen, so don’t even go there. We’ll go only when the doc says it’s safe, and not a minute before. Got it?”

  Matt nodded weakly, too tired to protest.

  The day crawled by, with his tormented thoughts never far from Gracie. When he wasn’t making conversation with Andy, he pretended to watch TV, but used the time to pray that God would protect her. As the day passed, a frenzied restlessness surged within, accompanied by a burning desire to hear her voice.

  The following morning, a nurse delivered a real breakfast, but Matt could only eat a few bites at a time. Too much made him nauseous. By Saturday, the solid food had renewed his strength, so when Dr. Stevens stopped by for a visit—this time with an elderly nurse who hummed incessantly—Matt was ready to impress him with his improvement.

  “Hey, Doc.” The doctor reached out a hand. Matt leaned forward, ignoring the pain in his head, and squeezed a little harder than necessary to prove his strength. “I’ve kept solid food down yesterday and today and walked to the bathroom on my own. Think I’m good to go?”

  “Not yet.” He leaned against the wall at the foot of the bed. “Just because you’re doing better doesn’t mean you’re ready. Yesterday’s CT scan still showed a little swelling, and to caution you, trying to do too much won’t get you out of here any faster. If anything, it could hold you back. Try to do too much too fast, I’ll keep you here two more weeks if necessary. Understand?”

  Beneath the covers, Matt’s hands curled into tight balls, and his clenched jaw pulsed erratically. He released a slow breath to keep his anger in check and simply nodded, unable to verbally agree.

  The doc checked the chart. “I’ll prescribe more sleeping meds for you tonight, and we’ll wheel you down for another CT scan in the next hour or so. If that looks good, I’ll have a physical therapist stop by to take you through your paces. Prepare to be worn out. If you do well today, and have no setbacks, I might let you go home tomorrow, emphasis on the word ‘might.’”

  Red hot heat rocketed from Matt’s feet to his head. Didn’t anyone realize how badly he needed to get to Gracie? As soon as Dr. Stevens left the room, Matt looked at Andy, struggling to keep frustration from his tone. “Can you bring me my phone?”

  “Sure.” His brother shuffled through the duffel bag in the bottom of the closet. “Calling Gracie?”

  “Yep.” If he could get through.

  “Okay, I’m gonna step out to the waiting area and call Trish. Need anything before I go?”

  “No thanks.” Matt waited for Andy to exit the room, and then punched the power button. Nothing. Dead as a doornail. His head fell back against the pillow and he stared at the acoustical ceiling tiles. Now what? He could either wait until Andy came back from calling Trish, which could take a half hour or better, or he could get the charger himself.

  He contemplated the doctor’s words of warning, but in the end decided he was up to the challenge. Matt sat up slowly and waited till the lightheadedness to pass, then carefully swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself to a standing position.

  He gripped the bed rail, and with small shuffling steps, made his way to the closet and peered down at his duffle bag. Why did it seem a million miles away? He stared at it for at least a couple of minutes, trying to determine if he had the stamina to stoop over without passing out.

  The door swung open without warning, and the same nurse, with the same annoying
hum, entered with a dinner tray. Her eyes took on schoolteacher sternness. “What in the world are you doing?” She laid the tray on the table and rushed to him. “Dr. Stevens will not be happy about this.” With both hands on his arms, she turned him around and steered him back to bed.

  He had to find a way outta this mess, and quick. Matt glanced at her name tag. “You’re not gonna tell on me, are you, Margie?”

  “Hmmm.” A hint of a smile played on her lips. “I suppose that depends on why you were out of bed after you’d already been given very specific instructions.”

  Matt leaned back against the pillows she’d plumped. “There’s a girl I need to call—”

  The woman’s face softened and her lips lost their vertical lines. “Say no more.”

  Leave it to a woman to fall for the sappy stuff. “But if I don’t say more, how am I gonna get my cell phone charger?”

  She laughed and headed to the closet. “You’re a regular riot, aren’t you? I’m guessing the charger is in your bag?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Within a minute, Margie had the phone plugged in and within reach. She sent a smile and wave as she hummed her way out of the room.

  At last. Matt made the call, happy to hear the phone ringing on the other end, instead of the monotonous busy signal.

  Juan Soldano answered.

  “Hi, Mr. Soldano. This is Matt Tyler.” He tensed, expecting opposition.

  But no lecture came. Instead the man practically bubbled over. “How are you, Mr. Matt?”

  “Been better, but I’m gonna live. Is Gracie available by any chance?” Just one sound of her voice. That’s all he needed to determine if she was okay.

  “No. She is working in Bellview now.”

  Matt’s heart landed at his feet, and he lowered his head to one hand. How he needed to hear her voice.

  Mr. Soldano continued. “Jason Dent found her a job there.”

  At the mention of Jason’s name, his pulse careened into overdrive and his spine straightened. Why would Jason find her a job? And in Bellview of all places? “Is there a way I can reach her? I really need to speak with her.”