Falling Grace

by Melissa Shirley

  He nodded. “I came home a while back. I think Charity said you were up in Chicago then.” He looked down at his plate. “I heard you’re in Texas now.”

  “Yeah. Remember Rory from college? I think I brought her home once or twice on break. We opened a law firm.” I wobbled and leaned heavily against the bar.

  “Well, that’s great.” He eyed me up and down. Concern etched lines into his forehead. “You feeling all right, Grace? You might want to slow down.” He intercepted his beer before I could get it to my lips for a quick swig.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m great.” I waved a hand through the air and reached in for another bite of his food. “How’s Dani doing? I haven’t talked to her in a while. I think the last I heard you guys were up in Canada somewhere.”

  His face colored a deep red, and Jocelyn whipped her head toward me. “Uh, I”--he shook his head--“I haven’t talked to her in a while.”

  “That’s a shame. I miss her. I was hoping she’d be home while I was here.” Well, this had turned awkward.

  “Is that your husband?” He tilted his head toward Blane and cocked one eyebrow. After years of knowing Keaton, I recognized his in-your-face look.

  “No. He’s just a…” A what? “…a friend, I guess.”

  “Will he look after you while you’re like this?”

  I didn’t know. Would he? Even if he didn’t, I was perfectly capable of looking after myself. “I don’t need him. I’m fine.”

  “Grace.”

  “Seriously, Keats. I’m fine.” I performed a half-spin before staggering into his shoulder. “Mostly.”

  Before I could manage an apology, Blane was at my side. “Whoa, there, sweetheart. You okay?”

  “Oh, yeah. Just reminiscing with friends. Blane, this is Keaton and Jocelyn. This is Blane. He’s from Texas. Go on talk. Show them your accent.” I moved between Keaton and Joss as Blane and Keaton shook hands. Something sparkly caught my eye, and I snatched Jocelyn’s French fry holding hand away from her mouth. “Wow. That is some ring. Like, what? Twenty, thirty karats? Are you guys getting married again?” I wondered how that had happened. He left town a few years earlier because she’d dumped him on his ass. I would have to remember to call Danielle and get all that dirt.

  “In a few weeks.” Keaton winked at Joss as Blane’s arms circled me from behind. I wriggled away and eyed Jocelyn’s fries. Jocelyn Hunter had never been one of my favorite people, and a guy like Keaton could do much better, but if she made him happy…whatever. I could love and let love.

  He looked over at me, his playfulness dehydrated with his glance. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

  Next to him, Jocelyn agreed. “He was a good man. He came to the bakery every morning.”

  I nodded and looked down at my shoes, barely able to push a breath out past the lump in my throat. The mere mention of my dad broke something in me and I shriveled.

  “Thanks.” Grief squeezed my heart. “We should let you eat. It’s been great seeing you guys, and congratulations.” I gave them a dorky thumbs-up, spun a little too quickly into Blane’s chest, then shook him off. The last thing I wanted to do was fall apart in front of the perfectly put together Jocelyn.

  “They seemed happy to see you.”

  “Him, maybe. Not her.”

  “Old boyfriend?”

  I plopped back down on my seat and resisted an eye roll at the jealousy in his tone. “No. He went out with my best friend in high school. Then he started dating her.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “My dad used to go to her bakery every morning.” Something about that made me sad. Maybe that he would never go again?

  “I’m sure he’s in a better place.”

  How? How was he sure? Instead of arguing the point, I nodded, trying to blink away the urge to cry.

  “You okay?” He caught the first tear and brushed it away, then the one that followed.

  Of course I wasn’t okay. Three sheets to a gale force wind on the day my dad got buried--what was he thinking? “Okay” was a state of being I aspired to find. Thinking of him brought tears to my eyes. Knowing I would never again feel one of those daddy bear hugs he saved for special occasions or hear the deep bass of his voice almost doubled me over in agony.

  “I’m fine.” I emptied my glass, pointed to Carol for another, and ignored her frown.

  “I might have something that could help you. If you want.” He patted the pocket on his hip.

  “Something to help me?” Was he offering me drugs? That was his solution for my broken heart? “What are you talking about?”

  A frown turned on his lips, and he shook his head. “I meant a hug, silly. You need someone to take care of you for a while.” He pulled me into his arms and cradled me against his chest. He was right. I wanted to be held, loved enough that the pain in my chest subsided, even if only for a few minutes.

  Burying my head in the slope of his neck, I inhaled the scent of his cologne, Jamie’s cologne, and pressed a kiss along his pulse point. I’d only meant it as a thank-you, but with a fingertip under my chin, he tilted my face up to meet his and pressed his lips against mine. Powerless to do much more than be held, I parted my lips at the gentle insistence of his tongue.

  The kiss deepened, his hand brushing down the side of my breast to rest underneath. A moan that started at my toes and worked its way up, escaped into his mouth, and he tugged me closer, broke the kiss to nibble his way down my neck. As long as he didn’t talk, I could pretend it was Jamie. They looked the same, felt the same…Jamie.

  As I turned my head to give him better access, I caught a glimpse of Jocelyn in the mirror, her eyes wide and her mouth set in a grim line. She shook her head, and I closed my eyes, but the image of her judging me wouldn’t fade.

  Her look mirrored my thoughts. What the hell was I doing? This was absolutely not Jamie. This man had a wife somewhere and I was in a bar.

  I broke the kiss, pushed on his shoulder. “Blane, stop.”

  He rested his forehead against my throat and exhaled deeply against my sensitized skin. “I don’t know what it is when I’m around you. I lose all control.” He scooted my drink closer. “Here you go, baby. Drink up.”

  I was on my third, maybe fourth, drink and he’d barely touched his beer. “I should get back home, Blane. No telling what havoc my mom is causing while I’m gone.”

  “One more drink.” He gave me the puppy dog eyes and I folded.

  “Okay. But only one.”

  Chapter 18

  Three drinks later, I stumbled out the door. God. I was drunk. How the hell did that happen? Hadn’t we only stopped for one? Fortunately, the whiskey made me not care as much that Jamie, no, Blane had to swing me into his arms to get me back down the block to my car. Instead, I enjoyed snuggling against him, running my tongue along the shell of his ear, whispering naughty things against his skin. He smelled good--not as good as the night of a thousand roses and poetry, but good.

  I wanted to kiss him again. For a few minutes, so the pain went away, so my heart knew a moment’s happiness even if my mind wanted something else.

  As he lowered me to my seat, he seared my lips with a kiss and snaked his hand down the front of my dress, inside my bra to tease my nipple with his fingers. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

  “I have a bed at my dad’s.”

  “No. Somewhere closer.”

  I couldn’t think with all the pinching, then soothing going on. Not Jamie, I reminded myself, but not bad and not enough to make the difference matter. “Yes.”

  He raced around the front of the car and climbed in. A few minutes later, I’d directed him to a farm road between two fields. He shoved the shifter into park, then climbed out to come help me out.

  Before I had both heels sinking into the soft dirt, he had my dress yanked up and my panties torn off. His lips melded to mine, his tongue thrusting in and out of my mouth as I gasped for breath. He spun me around, bent me over the hood, and grasped my shou
lder as he pushed into me with such force I cried out. “Jamie, stop. You’re hurting me.”

  I couldn’t wrap my head around a rhythm or believe what I’d said. Blane pulled away to fumble for his ringing phone.

  “What?” he barked, slapping it against his ear with a thwack that made me smile. “It’s under control. Don’t worry about it. No one is going to jail.” My ears perked up, and I swayed a little closer than necessary. He raised his gaze, lifted his eyebrows, and turned his back to me. “I have to go now. I’ll call you later. Stop freaking out. I have it taken care of.”

  He ushered me around the still open door and all but pushed me into the seat. “Let’s get you home.”

  “Seriously? That’s it?” I wanted to say something, to ask if there was more to come, to find out about the phone call and who wasn’t going to jail, but the alcohol sloshing in my stomach, coupled with its effects on my brain, robbed me of the ability to do more than sit back and breathe.

  “So, it’s my brother you think of when you close your eyes.” He drew lazy circles on my knee with his finger. “We’ll have to see what we can do about that.”

  “Blah, blah, blah.” Words somehow evaded me. Important words. Ones I wanted to hurl at him and at myself. My stomach lurched sideways and back again. I squinted to clear my blurred vision.

  Who was on that call? Who wasn’t going to jail? Daddy dead. Mom in town. A country road? So many things. Jamie.

  The car lurched to a stop, and he climbed out, opened my door, then leaned in. He carried me inside the house and set me on my wobbly feet in front of Joy. “Goddammit, Grace.” With one hand clasping mine and the other arm around me, she helped me up the stairs. “We have to do the will in an hour. What the hell is the matter with you?”

  A voice behind me said, “I told her to slow down.”

  I whirled, almost causing a domino of three falling down the steps. “You did not. You got me drunk so you could take me out on a country road and screw me.” I looked at Joy. “Yeah. That’s right. Country road.” Over my shoulder I added, “Speedy.”

  “You need to sleep it off, Grace.” Blane’s tone lost the good-old-boy melody, and instead he bit out every word.

  I raised my hands and yanked away from my sister. “I can take care of myself.” I tried to run up the stairs away from them, tripped, and settled for crawling to my room.

  Before I had the opportunity to enjoy the bed I flopped on, Joy tugged me up by both arms and shoved me across the hall into the bathroom. She stripped me and pushed me into a cold shower. After a few minutes, I flipped the dial to warm up the water. Somewhat more stable, I stepped out and wrapped the towel she handed over around me. “Your boyfriend is pissed.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “Well, whatever he is. Smoke is pouring off him.”

  I rolled my eyes and swayed. “Damn.”

  Instead of getting dressed, I flung open the bathroom door, holding my towel shut, and found Blane sitting on my bed. He glared as I sat beside him. “Sorry.”

  “You’re a mean drunk, Grace.”

  “I am what I am.” And I didn’t care what he thought. I lay back, wanting nothing more than to close my eyes, escape the day and the memories of it. Fortunately, they were whiskey soaked and would be much fuzzier, I hoped, later on.

  “You’re gonna have to learn to be a little nicer when we’re drinking or your rewards aren’t gonna be so good.” He leaned over me, kissed my cheek, my jaw, worked his way around to my lips as his hand parted the towel and slid down my belly.

  “Rewards?”

  “Mm-hmm.” He nipped at my collarbone. “Rewards like I could finish what we started.” He lifted his head and met my gaze. “Or at least, help you finish.”

  He inched his fingers lower, nudged my legs apart, and teased me for a second before he slipped two inside. My eyelids fluttered shut as he took my nipple between his teeth and tugged while his fingers worked in and out, building a pressure inside me begging to be released. As I neared the edge, his phone on my bedside table rang, and he withdrew, then reached for it. “Shit.” Forget alcohol. This man had a serious phone addiction that was starting to piss me off.

  He slid the bar then said, “Hey.”

  I shuffled off the bed, stood semi-straight. Sober me knew with one hundred percent of my working brain cells that Blane was not Jamie. Drunk me didn’t have a freaking clue, nor did she seem to care that sober me only wanted Jamie. I snatched a pair of jeans out of my suitcase.

  After I finished dressing, I stomped down the stairs, barefoot and not at all interested in reading a will. My sisters had gathered at the table with Dad’s lawyer, waiting for me and Mother, who stood at the counter, to take our seats.

  We reached for a chair at the same time, and I yanked my hand away. “You take it.” I moved to sit across from her, watching.

  “Are we all here?” Fred McIntosh was a lawyer older than Moses and smarter than Einstein. In all the years I’d known him, he had a long, furry Santa look and wild curly hair he tried to shove under a hat. I’d worked for him the first three years after I passed the bar, but he’d been Daddy’s friend since before Mother left.

  He nodded and pulled out the will along with a stack of envelopes he passed out. When he skipped over my mother, I hid a smile behind a closed fist at my mouth. Charity elbowed me hard, and I dropped my hand, holding the envelope on its top corners.

  McIntosh read slowly, stopping to explain every caveat and line in the will. Dad left us almost everything and gave Mother only enough that contesting would be difficult--a thousand dollars. She fluffed her hair, smoothed her hands across the tabletop. “I have nowhere to go.”

  Still drunk enough not to care, I said, “There’s a really nice overpass on route fifty-seven.”

  Hope squared her shoulders, sat up straighter, and glared at me. “You can stay here with me, Mom.”

  “What about your job in Texas? With Jamie?” Saying his name sent a shiver of treason through me. I had to get that whole brother situation worked out, but first to deal with my mother and the veil of worship my sister had shielding her from Mom’s faults. “What about your classes?”

  “Who’s Jamie?” Charity’s eyebrows launched up her forehead.

  “Blane’s brother. Twin brother.” Hope sat back, crossed her arms, and wiggled her eyebrows at me as though she’d tattle-taled.

  “He’s too old for her.” Faith, who’d remained silent through the whole ordeal, shot me her best version of Dad’s disapproving gaze, and I shook my head.

  “They aren’t dating. They work at a restaurant together.” I ignored them all and focused on Hope. “Daddy wouldn’t want this, Hope. Not at all.”

  “How do you know what your father wanted?” Mom toyed with her nails but looked up at me.

  “Stay out of it.” Prudence, the quietest of our group, took Hope’s hand in hers. “Listen, honey.” Prudence was only a year older than Hope, but an entire world of wisdom shone in her eyes. “For all you know about her, she could be an ax murderer who left us to avoid police capture.”

  “I most certainly am not.”

  Prudence shot daggers out her eyes. “How would we know? You never so much as called us or sent one birthday card.”

  “Your father wouldn’t allow it.”

  “Bull. Shit.” Prudence never spoke out. She was the eternal hippie, the guitar playing peace lover who didn’t smoke, drink, or swear. Ever. “You walked away and never looked back. For what? A man? A better deal than living in Storybook Lake with your eight daughters and a husband who worshiped you? Go ahead. Now’s your big chance. Explain it for us. Make us see why you walked out.”

  “Now, is not the time.”

  Temperance stood and led Fred to the door while I waited for my chance to pounce. “You’re right, Mom. The time to explain would have been before you left. Now, it’s too little, too late.”

  “No.” Hope stood, walked around the t
able, and put a hand on our mother’s shoulder. “She is our mom, and I would think after losing Daddy you’d all be thrilled to have her here, but no. All you’re worried about is yourselves. He left her nothing.”

  “What did she deserve, Hope? What do you give a person who walks out and leaves you with two toddlers and a bunch of teenagers to raise by yourself?” My head throbbed and my heart ached, but I plunged on. “What is fair? Was it fair you had to grow up without your mom? That you cried yourself to sleep at night? That Charity had to go with you and Faith to mother-daughter day at summer camp because we had no idea how to find her?” I stabbed a finger at my mom. She jerked back as though I’d slapped her. “Tell me, Hope. What should he have left her?”

  Mom stood. “I’m going back to my hotel. I’ll call you later, Hope.”

  “I wouldn’t hold my breath,” I muttered to my sister.

  Hope chased her to the door, and Prudence glanced from me to Charity to Temperance. Joy continued the pacing she started during my tirade.

  “We need to do something.” Joy stopped, pounded her hands on the countertop. “What the hell is she doing anyway? It’s not like we inherited the Taj Mahal. It’s a five bedroom in Storybook Lake and maybe enough money to pay off our student loans. Well, not Grace, but everyone else.”

  I’d spent longer in school than my sisters had between screwing around the first two years and the added years law school tacked on.

  Charity shook her head. “When I tracked her down a few years ago, she was living with some guy in Montana, didn’t want me there.”

  I whipped my head toward her. “You tracked her down? And you never said anything?”

  She shrugged, traced her finger over the smooth letters of her name on the envelope in front of her. “I wasn’t sure I could find her, and I used work resources so I couldn’t tell anyway. The point is, I found her and she didn’t want anything to do with us. She sent me away.”