Trusting Grace

by Maggie Brendan

  As the afternoon sunlight waned, she found Cinnamon dozing in the shade of a cottonwood. “At least you’re faithful,” she said to her.

  “Gracious, you can’t speculate on this situation until you talk to Robert, otherwise you’re spending time wallowing in pity,” Owen had said after she told him.

  “Thanks, Pop. Just what I hoped to hear from you,” she said sarcastically.

  He threw his arm around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m only trying to make you stop and think clearly. That’s all.”

  “I know.” She sniffed into her handkerchief. “But something doesn’t make sense to me.”

  “Well, he did ask you to the ball, didn’t he? Why in the world would he do that if he was seeing another lady? He could easily have asked her. Talk to him tomorrow. Now go to bed and try to sleep on it.”

  She kissed his wrinkled cheek. “I guess you’re right. I think I let myself care for him a whole lot more than he cares for me.”

  Owen was up before Grace. He wanted to make sure he had a word with Robert before Grace knew he was there. As soon as Robert arrived, he asked him to walk to the barn under the pretense of milking the cows, but out of Grace’s view from the kitchen.

  “Owen, something troubling you?” Robert narrowed his gaze.

  “You might say that. Grace came home pretty upset last night. I’m not going to get in the middle of it, but if you’re seeing someone besides my daughter then you need to tell her. You got that?” Owen knew his body trembled with weakness when he got upset, and he was trying not to let that happen. He’d pegged Robert to be a decent man in love with his daughter.

  Robert’s head jerked back. “Another woman?”

  “Yes, and if that’s true, it’s really none of my business what you do, but you need to be honest with her. I don’t know this other woman, but my advice to you is, don’t overlook an orchid while looking for a rose.”

  Robert sputtered. “Owen, I assure you I wouldn’t do that. I’m going to tell you who the lady is, but trust is a two-way street. If Grace changes her mind about going with me to the ball, then I’ll know she doesn’t trust me. I’ve already had one woman that didn’t trust me enough to tell me all the truth about her life, and I won’t live that way again. Am I making any sense?”

  “Maybe . . . But what do you plan to do?” This better be good, mister.

  “Promise me you won’t say anything to Grace, and let me handle this. I’ve got to find out if we can build a life on trust as well as love. Just so you understand, I love Grace.”

  Owen nodded, knowing it was best that he stay out of it. Robert clapped him on the back, and if it hadn’t been for the cane, he would’ve knocked him off his unsteady legs. Then he told Owen his plan.

  Robert wasted no time and knocked on the kitchen’s back door before he entered. Grace had her back to him, washing dishes, with suds up to her elbows. She didn’t turn around, evidence that she was miffed.

  “How are you this morning? Mind if I have a cup of coffee?”

  “Help yourself,” she replied.

  “I’m looking forward to Saturday night, how about you?” He decided to start the conversation that way to lay it all on the table. He was right. She turned around, snapping her towel as she picked up a dish. Is she going to throw it at me? Worse had happened to him in the past.

  “I’m not going. At least not with you.”

  Pretending ignorance, Robert asked, “And why not?”

  She eyed him sharply but continued drying the plate. “Because you were seen several times keeping company with another woman. That’s why!” she snapped, her honey-colored eyes boring holes into him.

  “Don’t believe what you hear. You must trust me,” he said, hands on his hips.

  “So you’re not going to deny your new friend?”

  He made a decision right then not to explain the circumstances at that moment. I need a trusting heart. He repeated, “Trust me, Grace.”

  “I repeat, I’m not going to the dance with you, so you’re free to take . . . your new friend. And you may as well look for another part-time job to go with the one you have.” She turned and flounced out of the kitchen, slamming the door hard behind her.

  42

  Until Robert left, Grace did her best to avoid crossing paths with him. She was furious that he wouldn’t tell her anything. And what did he mean by not listening to what she heard? Ginny would never make up something like that.

  After weeding her vegetable garden, she went inside and found her father working on a crossword puzzle. He looked up at her approach.

  “I couldn’t help but notice Robert left without saying goodbye. That’s not like him. Did you two talk?” He laid aside his reading glasses while waiting for her to respond.

  Grace plopped down in her chair. “We did, but all he said was for me to trust him when I asked about the other lady. Not the kind of answer I expected.” She leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Then maybe you should.”

  “I told him I wasn’t going to the dance with him, so I guess I won’t go at all.”

  Owen grumbled, “Oh, yes you are. You can go with me and Stella.”

  She sat up, looking at her father. “I don’t know . . . I also fired him. The harvest is over, and I don’t really need his help now.”

  “You did what? Have you lost your mind, daughter? Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

  “Probably. I wasn’t thinking rationally, but if he can’t trust me enough to tell me about his new friend, then . . .”

  “Oh boy, I hope you didn’t make a mistake. But come tomorrow night, you may as well go to the ball. Sitting here will only make things worse. Besides, I’d love to see you in the pretty dress you borrowed from Ginny.”

  Grace folded her arms. She didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “I won’t promise.”

  “Grace, don’t let your stubbornness create a wall between you and the man you love. It was Robert that saved you from Warren, remember?”

  Her eyes drifted down to a place where sunlight streamed through the window, warming the hardwood boards beneath Owen’s chair—much like his love and wisdom warmed her life. She knew he was right, as usual.

  A while later, Grace peeled potatoes with a vengeance, releasing her frustrations. Maybe her father was right about letting Robert go, but really, she’d managed before he came, and she could do it again. She hadn’t expected her father to take his side. Did he know something she didn’t?

  Grace took a long walk alone after supper. She was torn—half of her felt bad that she’d fired Robert, the other half wanted to continue to be obstinate. But if he was spending time with another lady, then why not tell her? Is there a way to fix this? As a solution nudged into her mind, peace flooded her torn heart.

  Early Saturday morning, taking time to gulp down a cup of strong coffee for fortification, Grace told Owen her plan.

  With a raised eyebrow but a look of satisfaction, he said, “That’s my girl! What man could refuse an invitation to the ball that comes with an apology?”

  Grace handed him her empty coffee cup when he followed her to the door. “I hope you’re right. I shouldn’t be long. I have a lot to do before tonight if he says yes.”

  Owen grinned. “Oh, he will.”

  Bozeman was slowly beginning to stir as Grace rode into town. Smoke curled from chimneys, and somewhere the scent of bacon frying wafted in the air, making her stomach growl. Grace wasn’t sure what she’d say to Robert, but there was no turning back now. She looped the horse’s reins to the hitching post in front of the boardinghouse. At the door she caught her reflection in the glass and stopped a moment to drop her hat to hang down her back, remove her leather gloves, pat her hair into place, and smooth her riding vest. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door to the foyer.

  She heard voices chattering but doubted the children were up yet. A couple of folks nodded to her as they swept past her to the dining room for brea
kfast. She waited, hoping she hadn’t missed him, but she couldn’t stand here long looking like a fool or her courage would vanish.

  Grace turned to look up the staircase and spied Robert looking down from the top stair at her. He paused a moment, clearly surprised, then headed down the steps.

  “Grace, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this early in the morning—or are you here to see Stella?”

  Grace licked her dry lips, her palms perspiring as they clung to her riding skirt. “I . . . uh . . . could I speak with you privately for a moment if you have time?”

  He moved closer, taking her elbow and guiding her to the parlor. “What is it? Is anything wrong with Owen?”

  Inside the parlor, she turned to him. “No. Pop’s fine. It’s me.”

  “You? You look good to me, and that’s an understatement.” His lips curled into a rare smile.

  She looked up at him. “Robert, I feel I must apologize for my childish behavior yesterday. I want to also thank you for saving me from Warren’s brutal attack. I’m not sure that I ever did.” Her mouth felt about as dry as parched grass in the middle of August as she gazed into his brooding eyes.

  “No thanks are needed. I would do it all over again to save you from harm. As to yesterday’s tongue-lashing—maybe I deserved it.”

  She shook her head. “No. No, you didn’t. I know we both have had past heartaches, and I do want to trust you . . . if you’ll forgive me.”

  Robert took a step closer and took her hands, his steely eyes holding hers with a softened gaze. “How could I not when you’re pleading with me?” He lifted her hands, kissing their tops, then pulled her into his arms to envelop her in a sweet embrace.

  Grace was soothed by the thumping of his heart against her, and it was comforting, oh so comforting. A moment or two later, she pulled back, forcing herself to lose all her pride.

  “Robert, unless you’ve asked your new friend, will you go with me to the ball tonight?”

  He laughed and tapped her nose. “Mmm, let me think,” he answered with his chin cupped in his hand, pretending to be in thought. Then he chuckled again. “You know I’d love to be your escort. But first there is someone you need to meet.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the boardinghouse, then outside and down the sidewalk, despite Grace’s protestations. She could barely keep up with his long strides and a time or two she stumbled over the toe of her riding boot.

  “Robert, please. Let go of my hand.” But he didn’t seem to hear or care, nearly dragging her, breathless, down the block to stop at the back door of a clapboard house.

  With a sharp rap against the door, he stepped back and waited, still holding on to her wrist, until a pretty lady opened the door with a smile. Grace swallowed the huge lump in her throat. This must be the woman Ginny had told her about. Surprised by her beauty, Grace tried not to stare. She’s a lot younger than me and prettier too.

  “Robert, so nice to see you. Won’t you come in?” She smiled a little too much, Grace thought.

  “No, thank you. It’s early, but I wanted you to meet someone,” Robert said, nearly shoving Grace closer. “Grace, this is Opal Sloan.”

  Why is he torturing me this way?

  “Oh, I’m so glad to meet you! Robert can’t seem to stop singing your praises,” the blonde stated.

  Grace didn’t dare to look at him, but stared at Opal, whose face expressed real friendliness. With a cool tone she replied, “Really? That surprises me.”

  Opal glanced at Robert, appearing uneasy.

  “Can I pick up my suit now if it’s ready?” Robert asked.

  “Oh, yes.” She seemed relieved. “Let me get it. It won’t take but a moment.” Opal hurried away and was back momentarily. “Here you are.”

  Robert took the suit and thanked her, handing her a wad of bills in exchange as Grace watched.

  “I can’t thank you enough, Opal.”

  Opal nodded, beaming with pride. “Thank you! We’ll talk soon. It’s was so nice to meet you Grace, but if you’ll excuse me, I hear the baby,” she said. “I was about to feed her breakfast, so if you don’t mind . . .” Robert nodded and she shut the door, leaving the two of them eye to eye, standing on the doorstep.

  With a twinkle in his eye, Robert pulled her closer, and said, “It’s not what you think, Grace. Look closely at this stitching on my new suit.” He held it up for her to see. “Perfect, isn’t it? Opal made this suit for me so I could impress you. She’s a new seamstress in town and doesn’t have a shop yet. Stella took me to her to see about making an appropriate suit for me in time for the ball. Hence the back door entrance.” He paused, his eyes penetrating hers.

  Robert pulled back his suit coat, and Grace inspected the tiny, perfect stitches that held the coat to the lining and the neatly sewn buttonholes. Robert continued, “Opal has a baby that Becky’s been watching while she sews. Her husband died. So I told her all about you.” He pulled her close to his face, lifting her chin, and gazed lovingly into her eyes, questioning and searching. “I didn’t tell you the other day because I wanted you to believe in me. I need a trusting heart in the woman I love—not the kind of love I had with Ada. I didn’t want to make that same mistake again. I had to see if you trusted me, so I didn’t tell you. Don’t you see? I love you, Grace,” he whispered huskily. “Only you.”

  Fighting hard to keep from crying, Grace found herself melting under his gaze and admission of love. “I feel like such a fool. I understand now.” She began to sob and he crushed her to his chest, stroking her hair. After a long moment, she pulled back to see him clearly. “I will never mistrust you again,” she murmured, overwhelmed at the love reflected in his eyes.

  “Grace, I’ve been tortured with thoughts of love for you day in and day out. I never thought I’d find someone like you. Tell me you love me too.”

  “I do, Robert. I think I have from the very beginning, when you came to work for me.” She hiccupped and he chuckled, then kissed her lips, and they both tasted the saltiness of her tears, until she was breathless.

  “It’s time to go, Grace,” Owen yelled up the stairs. “We don’t want to keep them waiting.”

  Grace rushed to the top of the stairs, nearly out of breath. “I’m coming,” she answered, again patting the curls about her face and neckline. She was no expert in hairdos, but had pulled her hair off the nape of her neck, leaving a few trailing curls. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she wondered about Robert’s reaction when he would finally see her in something besides a housedress. “It took a little longer than I expected. Social events are not an everyday occurrence for me.”

  As she descended the stairs, her father gasped. “Grace, you look so much like your mother. So beautiful,” he said, taking her hand. “Wait until Robert sees you.”

  Grace kissed his cheek. “You look very nice yourself, Pop.” Before getting herself ready, she’d helped him dress in the suit he used for church and funerals. He’d refused to spend money on a new one.

  “You’ll make a striking entrance on Robert’s arm.” He smiled as he took his cane from the balustrade of the stairs and crooked his elbow. “Shall we go?”

  Stella was waiting at the boardinghouse door when they arrived. Grace parked the buggy and looped the horse’s reins about the hitching post, then helped her father down. The Stafford Hotel was only two doors down the street, so they planned to walk from the boardinghouse.

  “You look marvelous, Grace,” Stella exclaimed. “And who is this handsome man you have with you? I hardly recognize him,” she teased.

  Owen stepped back to admire her. “You look wonderful yourself.”

  “I agree.” Grace loved Stella’s lavender gown with its creamy lace collar. “You make a handsome couple,” she remarked when Stella took Owen’s arm.

  “Thank you, my dear. And the weather couldn’t be more perfect,” Stella replied just as Robert strode over to meet them.

  Grace’s heart caught in her throat. He was so handsome, sporting the fine p
in-striped suit Opal had created with a matching vest and four-in-hand tie around his stiff white collar. He’d never looked so dashing. He flashed her a broad smile, taking her hand in his large warm one.

  “Grace, you look astonishingly beautiful!” Robert’s eyes swept over her, and Owen and Stella smiled as they watched them. “I . . . my goodness. All I can say is a housedress doesn’t do you justice.” He took her arm, clasping the top of it with his other hand.

  “Thank you. I do wash up pretty good, don’t I?” she teased.

  They joined the throng of folks walking to the ball. Most of the town had turned out for the event. Some had gathered outside the hotel to chat, while others were already in the building, where music could be heard.

  Inside, they headed straight to find a chair for her father that was visible to the dance floor. Grace observed several admiring looks from old and young alike, and she smiled back while Robert squeezed her arm. Must be Ginny’s gown.

  “Come, Grace. Let’s go get us all a glass of punch first.” Robert steered her in the direction of the refreshment table past the floor of dancers, who were laughing and smiling at them as they swept past.

  Grace scanned the floor, seeing the familiar faces of Eli and Dorothy, Dr. Avery and his wife, and Ginny and Frank. They were dancing to a waltz, Grace’s favorite dance. The last time she’d danced was before Victor died. But tonight, the bittersweet memory of Victor was dimmed as she and Robert carried the punch back to where Owen sat with Stella. Grace couldn’t be happier.

  At the end of the waltz, Ginny and Frank ambled over to talk. “I declare, Grace, that gown suits you better than it does me.” Ginny gave her a hug.