Falling Grace

by Melissa Shirley

  I followed Charity out to the car, climbed in behind her, and tilted my head back. Tuning out the radio and the road noise, I ignored their somber chatter and fell into a dreamless, alcohol-induced sleep.

  * * * *

  The casket sat only a few feet in front of me. Oh God.

  I cleared my throat, looked out at the back of the room, and did what I had always done…winged it. “There is a division of time in my family that divides our childhoods. The first is a time when we were one big happy family, all ten of us around a dinner table, laughing, smiling, telling the high points of our days, because there were always high points.” Visions of those happier days came rushing forward and my voice cracked. “The second part is nine of us around the table laughing and smiling and telling the high points of our day. After we became nine, there were hard days...days I’m sure Daddy didn’t like us much, or maybe wished he’d chosen a different path. I can’t say for sure, because he never showed it. He never raised his voice or threatened us with more than a disappointed glance. And if anyone would know, if anyone had worked hard to try his patience, it would be me.”

  The door to the church, with its hundred-year-old hinges, squeaked open and my mother walked in. Every syllable caught in my throat. She walked up the center aisle and took a seat next to Hope.

  “Um, I, um, I need a minute.” I walked down the three steps to the pew where Hope’s shell shock registered in her wide eyes and the hand over her lips. “You okay?” I leaned down with a hand on each of Hope’s shoulders and waited for her to look up at me. When she nodded, I turned and walked back up to the podium. I blew out a breath, licked my lips, and pointed a glare at my mother. My strength came back in the form of angry disbelief. What the hell was she doing here? She’d broken him in life. My stomach clenched against the ball of anger rolling around inside it. She didn’t have any business coming to see him in death.

  “When our mom walked out, we didn’t understand. It was too much for a bunch of little girls, and we couldn’t imagine how a woman, our mom, could promise her life to Daddy, give birth to his kids, parent us for seventeen years, then disappear like we didn’t matter. Like he didn’t matter. As the days turned into months, and she didn’t come back, Dad learned how to sew, to braid hair, and how to hold his head high no matter what we sent him to the drug store to buy. He baked birthday cakes, and they were terrible, but on his own, by himself, he raised eight girls into adulthood, and he never complained.”

  I pulled a deep, long breath in and blew it out slowly. “When I was seventeen, I went a little off my path.” Charity smiled up at me and nodded. “My dad did everything he knew to do. He grounded me. Took every single privilege I had away. For one whole day, I wasn’t allowed to speak, and for me, that was a punishment I would always remember, but it still wasn’t enough.” It had probably been more reward for him than punishment for me. “After a few days of my petulance and moping and cursing at him, he asked me to go for a ride.” My heart ached as I pictured the disappointment in his eyes, the hurt I’d put there.

  “I was sure he was gonna take me out to the woods and drop me off. I would have. Instead, he drove me to the nursing home where his mom was in a coma. We didn’t go into the room. We stood at the door and watched my grandpa talk to her, hold her hand and love her like no one else in the world existed. She probably didn’t know he was there, but he went everyday and spent all day with her.

  “My dad didn’t say a word, he just wiped his eyes, and we left. When we got in the car, he looked over at me and said”--I heard his voice as I spoke the words--“‘every woman deserves a love like that. I wasn’t that guy for your mom.’ Then he drove me home.” Tears pooled in my eyes and slipped down my cheeks. “After that day, I still acted up a little, but we figured it out. He had this magic thing. He knew what we needed without us telling him. Sometimes, it took him a while to get us there, but we always arrived eventually. The other girls probably have stories like that too. I don’t know. I wasn’t with my dad when he died.”

  Where the hell did that come from? “So, I never got to thank him for the man he was, the one he will forever be in my memory and in my heart.” I looked down at Hope. Her shoulders shook, and my lips quivered as I drew in a deep breath and tried to imagine taking her pain away…the way he would have done. “Our dad is the man we will judge all others by, not because he didn’t have faults, but because he did and he didn’t hide them. He used them to be better, to make us better, and for that, we will always be grateful. So, I want to ask God to take care of our dad the way our dad took care of us. Completely, and with more love than we could have ever asked for.”

  I took my seat on the opposite side of Hope, shifted my body when my mother patted my shoulder. My pulse throbbed and my head ached. What I wouldn’t have given for a drink right then.

  Chapter 17

  “Dinner? You want to have dinner with her?” Had the alcohol affected me so much I’d begun hearing things incorrectly?

  “She invited all of us.” Hope squeaked past me as she shuffled out of my room to cross the hall to her own. Her bare feet slapped against the hardwood, and I followed almost catching the backs of her heels in my hurry. She flung open her closet door, yanked out a pair of sandals, and slipped them on, then stood tall again to face me. Defiance? Aimed at me? From Hope? Oh, hell no.

  “Hope, she left you. You were three, and she walked out on you like you didn’t matter, like you wouldn’t need her.” Our mother was downstairs waiting for us to get ready. Even Charity had jumped on the mom bandwagon, ready to forgive and forget, to leave the past behind.

  I couldn’t have given one shit that she’d shown up to “help us through losing Daddy.” She had a different reason, and damned sure I would figure out what it was. But first, I had to protect my baby sister.

  “And she’s here now.”

  “For how long? Until the going gets too tough, until her life seems too big and she leaves you again, broken-hearted and crying your eyes out? You don’t remember, but I do. I was seventeen, and you were devastated. You balled every night you had to go to bed without her. Don’t let her do that to you again.”

  “Grace. It was sixteen years ago. You’ve got to get over it.” She slammed the door behind her. I listened for the telltale click of the lock, realized I wasn’t in medieval England--our doors locked from the inside--then raced downstairs after her.

  Blane and Faith sat next to our mother, one on each side. Charity leaned against the counter with her arms crossed, and Temperance had a carafe of iced tea ready to pour, complete with lemon slices. Joy’s open mouth had yet to close since Mom strolled into church.

  I walked to the table, yanked the chair out across from my mother, and plopped in. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought you girls might need a shoulder, someone to help you get through this.”

  I shook my head. “Lie. Try again.” She’d had a thousand chances to be there when we needed her, and she’d never come home.

  She cocked one eyebrow. “Your father and I never got divorced. I have every right to be here.”

  Oh. Now it all made sense. Blood roared in my ears. “So you’re here for the house? His stuff?”

  Hope’s eyes widened. “That’s enough, Grace.”

  I glared at my baby sister. “If she’s not, let her say it, Hope. Let her look at you or me or one of the others and tell us why she’s really here.” I turned back to Mom. “Go ahead. Tell her you’re here because you want the house. ”

  “That’s enough, Grace. Maybe you should have a drink.”

  “Seriously?” I shook my head at Faith. “Yesterday I’m an alcoholic, and today you’re telling me to have a drink?”

  Mom stood and cupped Hope’s cheek with her palm. “You girls are welcome to stay here any time, for as long as you want.” Something evil flashed across her face when she looked at me. Her smirk said she had no intention of keeping the house beyond selling it for what it was
worth. As soon as I saw it, it disappeared.

  “Did you guys hear that?” I looked from one to another, trying to gage who sat on which side of the mom debate. “We can stay here for as long as we want. Damn right we can.” I looked at Charity for support. Seeing none, I turned back to Mom. “He wouldn’t want you here.”

  “Well, he’s not here, now is he?”

  Hope gasped. Charity inched forward, and Temperance slammed the tea onto the table hard enough it splashed onto Blane’s shirt and my mother’s dress.

  “Mom?” The anguish in my baby sister’s voice tore at my heart, and I pushed my chair back, rose to a height that dwarfed my mother, and leaned across the table until she backed away.

  She wrapped Hope in a hug, smoothed her hair down her back, spoke in a tone that didn’t match the aura of blackness surrounding her. “I’m here to help my girls through losing their daddy. We can worry about everything else later.”

  “Okay.” I straightened up and winked at Charity. Just this once, I knew something they didn’t. I tamped down on my inner glee and smiled over at Blane. “I gotta get some air. Wanna do a little sightseeing?”

  He came around the table, took my hand in his, and smiled down at me. “Sure.”

  * * * *

  Storybook Lake, Illinois. Not an average town by any means. Buildings looked more like children’s toys than the brick and mortar cubes they’d once been.

  “Wow. What is that?”

  “It’s a beauty shop.” I smiled. The Little Shop of Hairs stood smack in the middle of town. The quirkiest of the buildings lining the main street, its two stories were shaped as a giant flowerpot with a plant stem and bloom reaching high into the sky.

  “Sometime in the sixties, the town decided to capitalize on its location and make itself into a tourist destination. They started redoing the buildings, one by one, to reflect their mission statements.” I pointed out a giant toy chest. “That was the first building they redid. It opened in just enough time for the Christmas season that year. Then, as new businesses came or decided to roll with it, they all underwent makeovers. The streets got renamed and Lakeland, Illinois became Storybook Lake.”

  “It is definitely touristy.” He squeezed my hand as we walked past a tanning salon whose front was a giant sun. His tone, however, said it was an oddity he didn’t fully appreciate, and I frowned. I loved everything about this town.

  “Some of them only have decorative fronts, but others have taken their theme into every architectural element throughout.”

  “And you grew up here?” He stopped, did a full three hundred and sixty degree turn and grinned at me, then pulled me into his arms. “Is there some bottle shaped bar where we can get a drink?”

  I stepped back, put a couple inches of space between us. “Um, I probably shouldn’t drink right now. You know, with my mom and everything…”

  He cocked his head to one side, batted his eyelashes. “Come on. One drink. It’ll help you relax.”

  Never one to pass up a chance to drown my sorrows in a deep bottle of whiskey, and I had plenty of grief to drink away, I led him down the block to the most nondescript building on the street. Big Mike’s. Mike had dug in his large, booted heel at turning the bar into a giant beer mug, and a normal square fronted building housed the only drinking establishment in the heart of town.

  We pushed inside the glass door, then found seats at the bar. Carol Sundrup’s eyes widened, and she rushed around the counter to throw her arms around me, crushing me against her large, mostly exposed chest. “As I live and breathe! Grace Wade.” She pulled me back for a look, then yanked me close again. If I wanted any hope of ever breathing normally again, I would have to break free of her hold. I wriggled away.

  Carol and Mike married long before I was old enough to drink, but her daughter sat for Hope while we were all in school and Daddy worked. I’d been a regular in the bar during school holidays and any time I was home from college.

  “I’m sorry about Chance. He was a good man.” I seldom heard anyone call him by his name and I smiled. It almost never occurred to me that he had friends outside our family.

  “Thank you.” I had no idea what to say to people, so I let her hug me again.

  “Is this your young man?” And before he could blink, she released me and had Blane squished against her.

  My reply choked in my throat, and Blane answered in his syrupy southern drawl. “Well, yes, ma’am. I’m anything she wants me to be. Blane Sheperd.” Holding out his hand seemed kind of silly, since she had almost choked the life out him with her hug, but she shook it with an enthusiasm that had his arm pumping up and down like an electric hammer.

  Carol smiled with a brightness that could have powered a city block as she rushed behind the bar. “What can I get you kids?”

  “Jack and Coke for the lady, and I’ll have a beer.”

  “Oh, no. I can’t.” It was barely lunchtime. I couldn’t start with hard liquor.

  “Baby”--he wrapped an arm around my waist and tucked me in at his side--“I’ll take care of everything. A drink won’t hurt.”

  As we sat again, Blane’s hand came to rest on my knee, his pinky rubbing back and forth on the inside of my thigh. I ignored the sensation of friction-created heat and that damn cologne tickling my nose. Instead, I chugged the drink Carol sat on the coaster in front of me. She gave me a wink and went off for a refill.

  Blane slipped the palm of his hand, the one not inching up my skirt, into my hair and tugged me close. He leaned in, and at the moment he would have pressed his lips to mine, I turned my head. Oh no. I wasn’t walking down that path until he was divorced. No way. No how. At least not while I was busy wishing I’d gotten a hold of the other brother.

  He studied me, his face giving away nothing. Leaning back, he dropped his hand. “Rory called you last night.”

  “I should call her. I left town and never even said anything.”

  “I told her you were taking it hard, and you would get a hold of her as soon as you could.” I nodded my thanks and picked up the drink Carol brought. “My brother called too.”

  “Oh.” The squeak of my voice did nothing to overpower the pounding of my heart. Jamie. His name brought a thousand images to mind…Jamie ready to kiss me by the lake…Jamie in that damn tuxedo, telling me the truth about our date…Jamie. My head was full of him and even shaking it and blinking like I had dust in my eye didn’t work.

  Get a grip, Grace. Maybe the whiskey would help. I drank it in one gulp.

  “I let it go to voicemail.” He took a swallow of his beer. “Then I deleted it.”

  He deleted my voicemail? I summoned anger from the spot where the alcohol had shoved it and glared at him.

  “You can call him back, if it’s so important to hear him lie to you.” He nodded to Carol, pointed down at my glass, and turned back to me.

  “Lie to me?” Honestly? He didn’t have any business throwing those particular stones. I huffed out a scoff. “You lie to me, Mr. Married Man.” I spun my head toward the bar, crossed my arms, and eyed my fresh drink with an unbridled appreciation.

  He ducked his head. “I’m sorry, Grace. I just wanted…” He paused and sighed. “When we get back, we need to talk about some things. I know this isn’t the right time, but there are things you need to know.”

  Mellowed by the alcohol fuzzing my brain, I turned to face him. “Like you’re happily married with a dog called Skippy?” I had to quit drinking. Stupid things came out of mouth when Jack Daniels took control of my vocal chords.

  “I’ll explain everything when we get back. I promise. Just don’t give up on me until you hear what I have to say.” He traced my jaw, then ran his finger along the line of my bottom lip. “I know you and Jamie are getting close, I do, but he isn’t right for you.” His quiet murmur was enough ear candy for me to ignore the thoughts of his brother sneaking into my brain. “You need the danger and excitement. He’s home in bed by ten o’clock ever
y night. He isn’t what you need.”

  Of course, if he continued to talk about Jamie, I would continue to think of him. “And you are?”

  He nodded. “I’ve got plans, Grace, to get out of there and make a new life somewhere exotic. Somewhere we can be together and never have to worry about money or cases that put us against each other. I want to share it all with you, and I will, as soon as I get everything worked out, all lined up, and in place.”

  “Blane.”

  “One chance before you make a decision between me and my brother, give me one chance.” I looked down at the ice in my drink. It must have been a family trait to know how to use words against a woman, to melt her heart, or make it beat extra hard. “Promise me?”

  If his voice hadn’t echoed with sincerity, his eyes not glistened with hope, I would have been able to walk away, but something about him… I couldn’t wrap my mind around what it was, but whatever the trait, I nodded. Smiled.

  “Seal it with a kiss?”

  I shook my head. Alcohol or not, I wasn’t ready to play kissy-face with a man who’d so blatantly lied to me, no matter how pretty he talked. And I dang sure wasn’t about to do it after what happened with Jamie, after all I’d found out about Blane, or in a public bar mere hours after we buried my dad.

  Taking a minute to compose my thoughts, I looked away from Blane, saw a familiar face, and smiled my first sincere smile since Daddy died. Sliding off my barstool, I grasped Blane’s shoulder for support, then stepped two stools down. “Keaton Shaw.”

  I threw my arms around him, ignoring his ex-wife altogether. While I didn’t personally have a problem with her, years of loyalty to Danielle hadn’t washed away when I came home. And what the hell were Keaton and Jocelyn doing together? He pulled back and smiled. “It’s good to see you, Grace.”

  His food smelled delicious, and I picked up his burger, then took a big bite. Jocelyn glared at me and I smiled. I hadn’t had anything to eat in a while and didn’t care what she thought. Through a half smile, I chewed and swallowed quickly. My God, that was good. I stopped ogling his food and tried to find a discreet way to figure out their new story. Obviously, their old one had undergone some serious revisions. “You two are you back together now?”