The Color of Grace

by Linda Kage

  As my mouth dropped open in disbelief, he lifted his face and looked across the room, directly at me. I felt frozen as his gaze glittered, the meaning in his eyes no secret. If I tried to tell her what he’d done, she wouldn’t believe me; she’d only think I was trying to break her and her new husband apart because I was jealous.

  Spinning away, I hurried to my room and bawled most of the evening away, until it was my turn to make supper. Before seeing her cry, I had planned on hopefully catching Mom by herself for a moment to lean in and whisper, “Hey, I need to talk to you…alone,” but he prevented even that, because he stuck to her like glue through the entire meal and even lingered around afterward to help her clear the table.

  Then the call came.

  She had to go into work. Again.

  Barry glanced at me as soon as she hung up and made the announcement. The look of relish in his gaze sent a sickened shiver up my spine.

  Time to retreat.

  As soon as Mom pulled out of the driveway, I climbed out my bedroom window. With the knowledge that Barry possessed a key to my room, I wasn’t going to stick around any longer than I had to.

  Prepared this time, I bundled up, packing a book bag full of necessities: homework, clothes, snacks. I didn’t think twice, but hiked straight to Ryder’s house.

  Transitioning from twilight to dark, the evening held an ethereal yet frightening beauty. The bare limbs of leafless trees threw creepy shadows that had me glancing over my shoulder every few steps to make sure the dentist hadn’t followed me. Strange how I hadn’t noticed any of the eerie splendor the first time I’d made this trek. Guess I had been too busy running for my life.

  Using the shadows, I entered the Yates’ yard and slipped my way to Ryder’s bedroom window. The lights were on this time, which made me sigh in relief. I tapped quietly, then stepped back to wait.

  Seconds later, the blinds ripped up and a bruised and battered Ryder stared out through the pane glass. My mouth dropped open. I couldn’t believe I’d completely forgotten about his fight. I’d come here, selfishly thinking he’d be willing to help me when all this time he’d had his own issues tormenting him.

  But instead of shooing me away, he opened the window and held out a hand to help me in. He didn’t smile and I didn’t smile in return. Silently, I handed him my book bag, which he pulled inside before reaching out again.

  Once I’d gained entrance, we just stared at each other as if we were the sole survivors of a tragedy.

  I wanted to ask him how he felt but the answer seemed obvious. He looked awful with a cut on his bottom lip and his knuckles bandaged as if he were apprenticing to be a mummy. The left side of his face remained slightly swollen and had already bruised.

  Shifting uneasily, I gushed out the explanation. “My mom had to go into work for a few hours, but she’ll get off at one, so I figure I’ll start home at twelve thirty.”

  Ryder didn’t bother to ask questions; he just said, “I’ll drive you.”

  “You don’t have to—” I started, only to shy back from the scowl he sent me. With a cautious smile, I croaked, “Thank you.”

  He nodded and slid the un-bandaged ends of his hands into his back pockets as he glanced around the room, looking uncertain of what to do now.

  I looked about me too, feeling a similar awkwardness until I realized his room seemed different from the last time I was here. More…bare. Scrunching up my face, I finally noticed the lack of a television in his entertainment center along with all his games gone as well.

  Swerving my head around, I glanced up to find his computer missing.

  “Where’s your…stuff?” Had someone robbed him?

  “My dad took it. Television, phone, computer—pretty much everything. For three weeks.”

  “You’re grounded?”

  He nodded and plopped down on his bed to stare up at the ceiling.

  Wrapping my hands around my waist, I backed toward the window. “I shouldn’t be here then.”

  Ryder snorted and sent me a funny look. “Right. Like you would be allowed to stay the night if I wasn’t grounded?”

  He had a point. I glanced away.

  With a sigh, he sat up and rubbed at his jaw, wincing.

  “Does it hurt?” I asked.

  Ryder looked up, but a knock sounded on his bedroom door before he could answer.

  “Ryder?” a woman’s muffled voice spoke from the other side.

  Eyes going wide, Ryder grabbed my arm and yanked me toward another door. “Quick,” he hissed. “Hide in the bathroom.”

  I stumbled inside, glancing over my shoulder in time to see the other door beginning to open. I leapt the last couple of inches, and slapped my hands over my mouth to keep from breathing too loudly.

  “I brought you some more painkillers,” the woman said, coming into Ryder’s room. I glanced through the crack in the door to see his mom—a tall, slim woman with the same color hair as Ryder’s—holding up a cup of water and a pill bottle. “Give me your hand.”

  Ryder obeyed, sticking out his fingers, palm up. After his mother dribbled out a couple pills, Ryder asked, “Can I have another?”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Does it hurt that bad?”

  He nodded.

  Sighing, Mrs. Yates gave him one more pill, then handed him the water.

  Ryder took the meds, wincing as he tilted his head back to swallow.

  From the bathroom, I cringed with him in sympathy, unable to image how much agony he had to be in. He looked like he’d just gone a round with Rocky Balboa.

  His mom looked equally sympathetic, until she shook her head. “I still can’t believe you got into a fight with Todd. He’s your best friend.”

  Ryder let out a sigh as he dropped the cup to his side. “Not anymore.”

  “Oh, are you ready to confess why you two argued? Should I call your father in to hear this?”

  “No,” Ryder was quick to retort. “I just...I don’t want to talk about it yet. I just want to sleep.”

  Face falling with disappointment, Mrs. Yates shook her head. “What’s happened to you, Ryder?”

  “Too much,” he muttered, rubbing at his face, only to wince and yank his hand from the swelling. “Look, I’ll explain everything tomorrow, okay? Right now, I just…I really do want to lie down for a while.”

  “Okay, but I’m holding you to that. Tomorrow.” After setting the pill bottle on the nightstand by Ryder’s bed, Mrs. Yates started from the room, only to pause and snatch his iPod off the end table by the couch. “Forgot to take this earlier,” she explained, pocketing it as she exited, shutting the door behind her.

  Ryder slumped down onto his couch.

  Without a word, I stepped from the bathroom.

  “Let me guess,” he said, without looking up. “You don’t want to talk about your problems either.”

  When he glanced up at me from bloodshot eyes, I shook my head.

  Ryder sat quiet for a moment, studying me before he asked, “Has he hurt you?”

  I closed my eyes. “No.”

  “Okay. I’ll leave it alone then. But I still want to help you.”

  “You are.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t ask any more questions. He did, however, look as exhausted as he claimed to be. So, we prepared ourselves for bed, each of us changing in his bathroom before we stood barefoot in our pajamas in the middle of the floor and duked it out over who should get the bed.

  It was his house, he was hurt, and I felt strange sleeping in his bed. I argued for the couch. Nevertheless, Ryder remained way more stubborn. Though I found the gentleman in him sweet, he could be downright aggravating.

  As much backbone as I didn’t have, I ended up with the bed while he camped out on the couch. He shut off the lights, and I thought that would be that.

  But he surprised me when his voice came from across the room and through the dark. “Okay, I have to know; what’s with the coat?”

  I frowned at the shadows that swallowed him whole. “Wha
t coat?”

  “The big, hulking lumber jacket you wear everywhere. The one you forgot to put on Friday night before coming here.”

  Thank goodness the lights were out; he couldn’t see my blush. “What do you mean, what’s with the coat? It’s a coat. I wear it to keep warm.”

  “So…there’s no story behind it?” He sounded almost disappointed.

  My throat went dry and I wanted to cry. But honestly, how had he known I had history with that one piece of clothing?

  “My dad.” I cleared my throat when my voice rasped, wishing Daniel Indigo were alive now more than I’d ever wished it before. If he were still here, Barry never would’ve married my mom, and I wouldn’t be suffering through any of this.

  “Your dad,” Ryder’s voice prompted softly. “It was your dad’s coat?”

  Though he couldn’t see me, I nodded. “Yeah. Mom said it was his favorite. So I wear to…I don’t know…I guess I wear it to honor him.”

  When Ryder didn’t respond, I reached up and wiped at a silent tear on my cheek tracking down toward my ear. I couldn’t help but wonder how close I’d be to my dad if he were alive.

  “That’s the first thing I ever noticed about you.”

  I sniffed and wiped at my nose. “Huh?”

  “Your coat,” Ryder clarified. “At the ballgame against Hillsburg. When I saw a girl—you—wearing that coat, it…” He paused before continuing in a bashful tone. “Well, it reminded me of a movie, that’s all.”

  I frowned, not catching on to what he meant at all. “What movie?” I asked, hoping he’d clear up a few answers.

  He sighed. “Okay, fine. I’ll explain. My mom is a fanatic for old movies, right?”

  Umm….okay.

  “And one of her favorites is On the Waterfront with Marlon Brando. Have you ever seen it?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “Well, it’s about this ex-prize fighter who helps out the mob and ends up getting some guy killed. The dead guy was going to rat out the mob to the authorities, so they picked him off, see. And he had this jacket. Looked just like the jacket you wear everywhere. Well, it was a black and white movie, but I always imagined it was red and black like yours.”

  “Okay,” I said. His explanation meant nothing to me.

  “It was a very significant jacket in the movie,” Ryder persisted. “When one person who tried to stand up to the mob wore it, they ended up dead. So the jacket would pass on to someone else and suddenly that person was standing up to the mob. These good characters kept dying until finally the jacket came to Marlon Brando. He didn’t want to stand up for what was right because his brother worked for the mob, but the girl he liked needed him to be the hero and he just couldn’t live with being a coward anymore. So finally, he stood up to them too.”

  “Did he die?” I asked, suddenly intrigued by the movie’s plot.

  “Marlon Brando?” Ryder asked, his voice filled with surprise. “Heck, no. He gets beat up a little but he finally encourages the rest of the town, or whatever, to support him. And he triumphs. That’s why I love that jacket so much. I always have this weird sense that whoever is wearing it is the good guy, you know. Someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for what’s right, no matter how frightening it is.”

  I didn’t answer, but his explanation stuck with me. I smiled in the dark. The coat had passed from my father to me, just as they had passed it along in the movie. Made me think my father must’ve been the first good guy out there. I liked that. But I didn’t feel like any kind of heroine who stood up for what I knew was right. I was a coward, unworthy of my dad’s jacket.

  “Guess I sound pretty stupid huh?” Ryder mumbled, making me realize I’d never responded to his story.

  “No. I…I actually really like that explanation.” After another moment of silence, I quietly added, “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Thank you for telling me about the glove in the snow.”

  I smiled, surprised he even remembered that picture I’d taken. It had only been a few weeks ago, but it felt like years, centuries had passed since my first day at Southeast.

  “That’s why I told you I didn’t think you belonged with my group, you know. It wasn’t because I didn’t think you were good enough to hang with that crew. It was because of the glove. If you had told anyone else in the group about what you saw from the glove picture, they would’ve just made fun of you. They totally wouldn’t have understood that your answer is the most amazing thing about you. They would’ve ended up ruining you.”

  My chest felt tight. I couldn’t believe Ryder Yates had just called me amazing. Tears pooled around my eyes and I tried to blink them back, but they kept flooding my lashes.

  “Grace?” His voice was raw and uncertain. “Please say something.”

  I wiped at my cheeks and sniffed. “If you understood my glove picture then that means you probably don’t belong with that group of people either.”

  He sounded sad as he answered, “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “Then why do you hang out with them?”

  “No idea.”

  I gave a loud snort.

  “I grew up with them,” he tried to explain. “There’re the only people I know”

  “Humph,” I added to my snort.

  “Look, I know I went out with Kiera for the wrong reason, liking the whole ego boost she gave me. I realized about as soon as we started dating we didn’t belong together. But I didn’t know how to shake loose of her without being mean. I never have been able to dump a girl. I should’ve thanked Stangman instead of hitting him for taking her off my hands. But when I saw him talking to you this morning, I just…I don’t know. I snapped.”

  I pressed my lips together and stared through the darkness, hoping he’d continue. But he didn’t.

  Time passed. Lying on my back, I stared up, unable to make out his ceiling in the darkness. Cocking my head to the side, I glanced toward his alarm clock. It wasn’t even ten yet.

  “Hey, Grace.” His quiet voice rolled across the room, making me shiver with little pinpricks of excitement.

  “Hmm?”

  “Are you interested yet?”

  Since there was no way he could see my response, I grinned. “I was always interested.”

  He sounded rather smug with he retorted, “That’s what I thought.”

  Rolling my eyes, I muttered, “Don’t even think about gloating to Todd or I’ll—”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” he cut in, ire frosting his voice.

  I settled but didn’t answer. After another moment, he said, “When we have our first kiss…”

  “When?” I repeated, lifting my eyebrows.

  “When,” he announced stoutly, “I think you should be the one to decide when and where because any time’s good for me. Really. I mean, even now would be perfectly fine.”

  Chuckling out a silent laugh over his obvious hint, I once again rolled to my side but still couldn’t see him across the black room. “Not now.”

  “Why not?” He sounded almost hurt.

  “Because I’m using you for room and board right now. It’ll have to be a time when neither of us feels like we have to kiss the other as a means to pay them back for a service rendered.”

  He sighed, a long, drawn-out sound. “Okay. Whatever. But just so you know, I’m ready whenever.”

  My cheeks began to ache from grinning so big. “Thanks. That’s good to know.”

  After another moment of silence passed, he started in again. “You know what I said when I told you I hadn’t done anything with Kiera because I didn’t want her to be my first?”

  I held my breath and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Well, you’re not the type I want to be my first either.”

  “What?” Instantly offended, I sat up to scowl across the thick expanse of black separating us.

  “You’re the type I want to be my last. You know...the settle down and marry sort. If you’re my first, then I won’t get to—I don’t know—sow any wild oats or a
nything.”

  It took me a moment to think up a response. In truth, most of his words made my tummy feel all fluttery with delight. He thought I was the settle-down-with type? Wow.

  Still. The not-wanting-me-to-be-his-first irritated me. I didn’t like the idea of him being with another girl.

  The same instant I muttered, “What does sowing one’s wild oats mean anyway?” he said. “But I guess my parents were high school sweethearts just like yours were, so maybe we’re just destined to follow our family genes and start out already settled.”

  As I grinned, he backtracked, answering my question. “Oh, that phrase came from a wild weed in Europe. When they started using it, everyone pretty much meant a person was acting foolishly because it was foolish to sow—or plant or whatever—this wild weed instead of planting good grain that could grow into a marketable product. I have no idea how the sexual connotation got tacked on to it.”

  “How do you know that?” I demanded. Only Ryder would know the answer to my strange question.

  “I don’t know. Read it somewhere, I guess.”

  I snorted out an amused laugh. “I love you; you can be such a dork.”

  Still grinning and shaking my head a moment later, my own words echoed back to me. Smiling at falling flat, I risked a cautious glance across the room where Ryder had grown uncomfortably quiet.

  Finally, I pulled in a breath and asked, “Did I just say what I think I said?”

  “Yeah,” he huffed. “You just called me a dork.”

  My shoulders loosened, glad he wasn’t going to zero in on the L-word I’d just thrown out there. “Well, I’m a nerd,” I explained. “So, honestly, we complement each other nicely.”

  “Hmm.”

  I exhaled, relieved we weren’t going to discuss the rest of my ill-timed comment.

  Until he said, “You don’t really have a choice about loving me, you know. Thing is, I don’t do the unrequited thing and since I fell for you a long time ago, you were sort of just dragged into it, whether you liked me or not.”

  I arched a brow. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m serious.” He sounded sure of himself. “I think it has something to do with my big green eyes.”