Absence of Grace

by Ann Warner

  She padded to the door and opened it to find Gerrum there, oddly formal in dark slacks and a blue dress shirt she’d not seen before. Book-signing clothes?

  They made him appear foreign, not her Gerrum of the flannel shirts and jeans. Or maybe the strangeness was more in the way he stood, balanced, as if he was prepared to move either toward her or away. And his expression was wary. Even more disconcerting, his eyes held no gleam of humor. Instead, they were shadowed with an emotion she was afraid to name.

  Seeing that, her throat dried out completely. “What...why, how did you get here?”

  “I flew. From Boston.”

  “Boston?”

  “I went to Resurrection. Jason called to tell me you were here.”

  “Oh.” Her hands clutched the door frame and her body refused to stop trembling. She ached to touch him so she wouldn’t feel so separate. Seeing him, she no longer doubted she’d misinterpreted what she’d seen. And with that certainty, she knew her response—that swift and sure belief he had betrayed her—had broken her connection to him.

  “Can I come in?”

  She gestured him inside, through the living room and kitchen and out to the deck.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Her voice wobbled. She cleared her throat, trying to steady it. “Water? A beer?”

  “Water would be good.”

  She poured two glasses and sat across from him, rolling her glass between her hands. “I blew it, didn’t I?”

  A lift of his eyebrows was his only response. No change in that wary look that was frightening her so badly.

  “I saw you and Hailey and it hurt so much, I didn’t stop—”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  The words made her wince.

  “Hailey’s been going through a difficult time. A family matter. That’s all. I would never—” His tone. Controlled, cool. Not as cool as those eyes, though. “I thought you’d figure it out. Call me.” His words held both pain and a question.

  “I can’t take back what I thought. Can you forgive me?”

  He examined her, rolling the glass between his hands. She tried to read him, but he’d gone opaque.

  “You stopped trusting in us, Clen. In yourself. Giving up like that? Without a fight? Too easy. I need to know you won’t do it again. That you’ll stick around. Yell at me, if necessary, but don’t ever leave like that again.”

  “You’d give me another chance?”

  “Only if you’re willing to be more open about...” He stopped speaking and looked her in the eyes. “Sometimes it feels as if you’re holding back. I don’t know...” He shook his head, looking frustrated.

  He was right. She’d always held something back. Not wanting him to see her too clearly. Who she was. What she’d done. Sins of omission and commission.

  He leaned across the table, and took one of her hands in his. “Tell me, Clen. What were you thinking just then?”

  She struggled to meet his eyes. She’d already tried to confess, first to Thomasina and then to Jason, but she’d been unable to manage either one. Thomasina being dead was the ultimate barrier, of course, but why hadn’t she told Jason when they were speaking of Josh last night?

  It would have been selfish.

  The thought came fully formed, as if spoken aloud by Mary John...or Thomasina.

  But what about Gerrum? Did she have to tell him?

  It happened long before she met him, after all. Still, not telling was an omission, a lie of sorts. Lie, lye—she’d never noticed that pairing before, but it was true. A lie eroded everything it touched, just like lye.

  She took a deep breath and willed her muscles to relax. “I need to tell you something...about the real reason I went to Resurrection the first time.” With those words, the high wire was back, suspended this time over a thundering falls, and she was preparing to take her first step.

  Gerrum sat waiting, his hand unmoving, cupping hers.

  “You see, I had another brother. Joshua. Jason’s twin. He...he had leukemia. It was awful. Those last months. He asked me...he begged me to help him die.” A shiver ran through her body, and Gerrum’s hand tightened on hers.

  She waited for the black spots, the ringing in her ears. When they didn’t come, she raised her eyes to Gerrum’s face. He looked puzzled, and no wonder. Struggling with how to tell it, she’d merely confused him.

  She pulled her hand away, distancing herself. “I did what Josh asked. I smothered him.”

  An expression flickered in his eyes. Too quick for her to interpret. “How old were you?”

  She shook her head, denying that absolution. “Old enough. Nineteen.”

  “Did you love him?”

  “Yes.” She swiped a hand at the tears sliding down her face. “Oh, yes. So much.”

  Gerrum recaptured her hands and closed his own over them. “And he asked you to do it?”

  “He begged me for days. He’d worked it out. The best time. How to do it so nobody would suspect.”

  “Do you regret doing it?”

  The act had cast a dark shadow over her life. And yet, if Josh were here today, in pain, dying, begging her to help him... “No. I don’t.” Her words faded into birdsong and the faint hum of traffic.

  The two of them continued to sit, hands connected.

  “Come home with me, Clen.”

  “You still want me despite—”

  “God, yes. The past can go to hell and welcome to it.”

  He stood and opened his arms, offering her the shelter of his embrace, the steadiness of his love. What he’d always offered.

  She stepped into his arms and tucked her head into the curve of his neck, holding on tight as his warmth flowed into her, calming, soothing like a benediction. He rubbed his cheek against her hair, and she pulled in a deep breath, feeling a looseness, an ease she hadn’t felt in years.

  She and Gerrum, finally, with nothing separating them.

  Chapter Thirty

  Wrangell, Alaska

  The day after Clen and Gerrum returned to Wrangell, Clen went to the lodge to see John and Marian. Gerrum offered to go with her, but this was something she needed to do for herself, by herself.

  Kody dozed in his usual spot by the back door. She bent to greet the old dog, then stepped inside to find Marian clearing out the kitchen, preparing for winter now that the season had ended.

  Marian looked up when she heard the door. “Clen. Oh, my goodness.” She came around the counter and threw her arms around Clen. “I’m so glad you’re back. We were so worried, and Gerrum was simply frantic.”

  The reminder made Clen wince, but Marian’s voice held no reproach.

  “It was an idiotic thing to do. You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  “Do you want me to be?”

  “I’m hoping you won’t be. And that you’ll let me come back next summer to cook.”

  “What do you think, John?”

  Clen hadn’t seen John when she came in, but there he was, standing in the doorway to the guest lounge. “Let me see if I have this straight,” he said. “We take back the best cook we’ve ever had. Or, we spend the winter trying to convince some kid coming here for a summer is a great resume builder.”

  “Well, that’s an easy one,” Marian said.

  “Yep.” John nodded, smiled, then put on his jacket and went out the door.

  Clen turned to Marian. “Would you like help cleaning up?”

  “I’d love it,” Marian said. “Besides, you don’t think you can waltz in here and say you’re back without giving me the gory details. Spill.”

  Clen pulled in a breath, let it out, and took her place next to Marian. “So what do you know?”

  “All we know is Gerrum checked with your folks and discovered your mother wasn’t sick. He finally tried the abbey. Is that where you went?”

  This wasn’t easy, deciding what to share after keeping it to herself so long. Most people probably didn’t need to do that, not when they were talking to someone as kind as M
arian. “I seem to have a habit of running off to Resurrection when I have a problem.”

  “I guess that’s better than going to a bar and drinking yourself into oblivion.”

  “More inconvenient, though.”

  Marian chuckled. “Indeed.” A serious look replaced her smile. “You and Gerrum. You are together, right?”

  For a moment, the memory of how it felt being estranged from Gerrum was so strong, Clen couldn’t reply. The body did that sometimes. The brain recalled, the body froze. Then everything loosened again. “Very together. I’ve moved in with him.”

  “About time.” Marian grinned broadly and hugged her again.

  How did one learn to be spontaneous and openly affectionate like that? Probably years of practice. And she’d barely begun. Only a short time with Gerrum and already it wasn’t so difficult to lift her arms and return Marian’s hug.

  Clen had one more stop on her reconciliation rounds. ZimoviArt was closed for the season, but Hailey was there, packing up. Clen tapped on the door. With a startled glance, Hailey gestured for her to come in.

  “I was surprised to hear you hadn’t left for Seattle yet,” Clen said.

  “I have the house until the end of the month, so there’s no rush.”

  “Well, it doesn’t look like you have much left to do here. Must have been a good year.” Not the most sensitive comment, she realized. “For the gallery, I mean,” and she’d just made it worse.

  “I...I suppose so. As usual, Tess’s quilt squares were the biggest sellers, and all but one of your paintings sold.” Hailey’s gaze skittered about, and waves of distress filled the gallery with a slight discordant vibration. No question, the difficult news must have been really bad.

  “That’s the reason I’m here, to pick it up. Save you the trouble.”

  “I appreciate that. It’s right over here.” Hailey gave her another distracted look.

  Clen had never before been aware of another person’s upset in quite this way. At least, not that she could remember, but maybe when she locked up her own emotions, she gave up that awareness. She still would have noticed Hailey didn’t look good and that her movements were stiff and jerky, as if her joints were mechanical and had gone too long without oil. And given Hailey’s distress, Clen couldn’t just pick up her painting and walk out.

  Deciding, she set the painting down and turned to Hailey. “You know, we never did get around to celebrating my other sales. How about you come over, for lunch. Today. That is, if you’d like to?” If that wasn’t the most awkward invitation on record, it had to be close.

  “Oh, I don’t think...you and Gerrum will want—”

  “Gerrum’s out for the day.” Finally, Clen’s voice began to behave. “He and Terry are winterizing the boats. If you don’t come, I’ll have to eat by myself.” Well, that was certainly gracious. “I’d like you to come.” Better.

  “I don’t know. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Clen moved decisively to shift the picture over by the door while Hailey put on her jacket.

  Together they walked to Gerrum’s house, where they spent the first moments hanging their coats and dealing with the picture. Then they went to the kitchen, where Hailey sat at the small table while Clen heated soup and sliced bread to go with it. With another glance at Hailey, Clen got out a bottle of wine and two glasses. She served the soup, poured the wine, and sat facing Hailey.

  She lifted her glass. “To a successful season.”

  Hailey bit her lip but raised her glass in response.

  “And to friendship.”

  Hailey looked startled, then nodded without speaking. Clen took a sip of wine, watching as Hailey picked up her spoon and stirred her soup.

  “I need to ask you something,” Hailey said, with a quick glance at Clen. “When you left. Afterward, I worried you...that you thought Gerrum was—”

  “If you’re trying to ask, did I see you in Gerrum’s arms in this house, the answer is yes, I did.”

  Hailey continued to avoid Clen’s gaze.

  “And then I did one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done. I jumped to the wrong conclusion on the basis of a few seconds’ observation after I’d spent months getting to know Gerrum.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t stop to think. I didn’t mean to hurt you or Gerrum.”

  “My own fault, thinking what I did. Not that it’s impossible to imagine Gerrum in love with you. It isn’t. Too easy, actually. That’s why, well...anyway, my mistake was believing he would go behind my back.” Clen took a fortifying sip of wine.

  “You don’t have to worry, you know. Not about Gerrum and me.” Hailey pulled at the rings on her fingers. “I fell in love with him, but when I let him know—” She chewed on her lip. “He said I was too young for him, but he hoped he could be my friend.” Hailey grabbed her wineglass and took a quick gulp of wine. “I’m sorry. The day I came here. I can’t explain what it’s about.”

  “That’s okay.” Clen dipped bread into her soup. “You know, this reminds me a bit of the meals at Resurrection Abbey. I visited there for a while.” She no longer doubted that was general knowledge. “No wine, of course.” But thank goodness for the wine, today. Without it, she and Hailey would be too skittery to put three coherent words together. “Lunch was always soup and bread, and we were supposed to savor it while we listened to a reading from scripture. It was very peaceful.”

  “Do they allow non-Catholics to visit?”

  “Aren’t you Catholic?”

  “I’m nothing, really.”

  “We often had non-Catholic visitors at Resurrection.”

  “I guess an abbey would be a good place to, well, to sort through problems?”

  “It was for me. The silence helped, but I found it was also good to talk about things.”

  Hailey gave up on the soup and began fiddling with her knife. Clen poured more wine. Hailey looked up from the patterns she was pressing into the tablecloth with the knife to smile briefly. “If I drink any more, I won’t get anything done the rest of the day.”

  “If you get behind, I’ll come help.”

  Hailey put the knife down and began rolling the wineglass between her hands as she looked out the window. “You say talk can help. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it would help if I tell you why I came to see Gerrum that day.”

  If Hailey was willing, Clen wasn’t going to put her hands over her ears.

  Hailey’s voice started out strong but began to tremble. “Gerrum helped me find something out. The answer to a question...” She shuddered. “When I had the answer, at first I couldn’t bear it. Gerrum was the only one who knew anything about it, that’s why I came here.” Her eyes, huge and dark, gleamed with tears that overflowed and started down her cheeks. She looked so vulnerable, so young, so bereft, Clen understood exactly why Gerrum had ended up with her in his arms.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this, Hailey.”

  “Yes. I think I do.” Hailey took a deep, shaky breath. “Gerrum was helping me find out what happened to my mother. She was killed...shot. My father was convicted, but I figured out my brother had something to do with it.” Her teeth clamped on her lip, turning it pale from the pressure. “I’d heard from my brother’s widow, you see. She told me he was hit by a train, and they have a son...” Hailey bent her head, sobbing.

  Clen went to her, putting an arm awkwardly around the other woman’s hunched shoulders. The story was garbled, but Clen understood enough to know why Hailey asked Gerrum not to tell.

  Hailey wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

  “That’s okay.” Clen patted Hailey’s shoulder and sat back down. “Take your time.”

  “It’s all so confused, what happened. I don’t think my dad shot her, but he bought the gun, loaded it, and left it sitting. I hate him for that.”

  “You have every right to be angry.”

  For a time they sat without speaking, and Clen thought about her own anger, at God. As useles
s as Hailey’s anger, but with a much less rational basis.

  “Somehow, we have to figure out how to stop being angry and forgive.”

  Hailey looked up, perhaps in response to the tone of Clen’s voice. Clen stood and started water heating for tea. She turned back to the table to see Hailey had caught a beam of sunlight in the contents of her wineglass and was moving the small rainbow it produced in an arc on the table top.