by Neta Jackson
Grace turned at the familiar voice. “Mr. Bentley!” The last time she’d seen him, he’d been wearing wraparound shades, a plaid flat hat tipped rakishly on his shaved head. Now he was leaning against the opening to the cubicle wearing ordinary black slacks, a white shirt, a tweedy sport coat, and a big grin, Corky at his side—minus the guide-dog harness.
“You lose something?”
Grace grimaced. “My suitcase was stolen.”
“Uh-huh.” The grin widened. “Got news for you. We caught the perp red-handed before he got out of the station and got your suitcase back.”
Grace and Sam gasped. “What?” Grace stared at the man, her emotions doing somersaults between relief and confusion. “How … oh, my. I can’t believe it.”
“That’s the good news.” Harry Bentley’s face sobered. “The bad news is, Amtrak police will need to keep your suitcase for a little while until the, uh … thief has been booked and we’ve completed all the paperwork. A list of the contents would be helpful to make sure everything’s still there. I’ll see that you get it back as soon as they release it. Hopefully it won’t be too long.”
“Oh, Harry! Thank you!” Grace jumped up and gave her neighbor a hug. “I’m going to tell Estelle to cook you one of her famous dinners tonight. You deserve it!”
“Uh, it’s Detective Bentley here at the station.” He laughed self-consciously.
“Oh!” Grace was just about to tell him about Ramona, but he suddenly clapped his hands. “Sorry, ladies, gotta go. C’mon, Corky.” He winked at Grace. “Told you Amtrak security was on the job—even when you didn’t know it.”
Chapter 44
It was five thirty by the time the limo drew up in front of Grace’s bungalow on Beecham Street. Even though Rodney Bentley had said he didn’t have another client till that evening and would be glad to drive both of them, Sam had elected to get a cab and go straight home. “Girl, I know you want to stop by Meeow Chicago and pick up Oreo,” she’d teased, giving Grace a good-bye hug, “but right now my priority is soaking in a long bubble bath.” And she’d waved good-bye as the limo pulled away.
After being together in close quarters 24/7 for the past fifteen days, Grace already missed the young woman who’d become so much more than an assistant. More like a best friend—or the sister she’d never had.
“I owe you big time, Rodney,” she said, as he opened her door, took the cat carrier from her, and then helped her out. “So sorry you had to wait while I filled out that police report, but I do appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, Ms. Meredith. Least I can do as thanks for you and Ms. Curtis getting me this job.”
“Rodney, you can ‘Ms. Meredith’ me all you want at Lincoln Limo’s office, but it feels really silly for neighbors to be so formal. Please, call me Grace.”
He grinned, and Grace noted how much he looked like his dad just then. “All right,” he said. “But we aren’t neighbors anymore. I moved to my grandmother’s old apartment now, took over her lease.”
“Oh.” Grace was surprised. She’d assumed that since the grandmother had passed maybe Rodney would live in the first-floor apartment. “Uh, is DaShawn—?”
Rodney shook his head. “Still with my dad.” He suddenly busied himself getting her luggage out of the trunk—minus the big case—and took it up to her door.
She had no idea what that was about, but decided it wasn’t any of her business. This time she had a generous tip ready before waving good-bye. “For going the extra mile and letting me pick up my cat.”
Once inside, and after stepping over the pile of mail and magazines on the floor under the mail slot, Grace opened the cat carrier door and lifted a meowing Oreo into her arms. “You have no idea how much I missed you, buddy,” she murmured, nuzzling the black-and-white cat’s soft neck fur. She giggled as his rough tongue licked her chin and his purr motor started up. “Yeah, you missed me too.”
She collapsed on the couch, put her feet up on the coffee table, and laid her head back against the couch cushions. Sam’s idea of a good, long soak in a bubble bath sounded like heaven … but should she unpack first? Get something to eat? Pick up all that mail and get it out of the way? Call Jeff and let him know she got home safely? He’d asked her to call … or should she call Roger first? Who did she owe her allegiance to?
Locating her purse where she’d dumped it beside the cat carrier, Grace dug out her phone and saw she had a new voice mail. Roger. She was just about to hit the Play button when her doorbell rang. She opened the door, ready to send whoever it was packing … and then grinned. “Estelle!”
Estelle Bentley stood on the stoop, her longish black-and-gray-streaked hair piled up in a loose bun on top of her head, holding a covered dish with hands shoved inside big oven mitts. “Grace! Praise God you’re all right. Harry called me, said you got robbed at the train station, you poor baby.” She stepped inside and headed straight for the kitchen. “I brought you some supper. I know you don’t have anything in the house after being gone so long—and Harry might not make it home till late anyway. Said he had a case that got complicated.”
Grace followed her. “Oh, Estelle, you didn’t have to do that.” But she was glad she had. The pungent warm smell wafting from the dish made her realize just how hungry she really was.
“Honey, you sit down and eat. Lord, Lord, having your suitcase stolen like that! You must be all worn to a frazzle.” Estelle was already dishing up what looked like shepherd’s pie from the hot casserole onto a plate from the cupboard.
Grace sat down at the kitchen table. “Um, did Harry tell you they caught the thief, and I’m going to get my suitcase back?”
“Yes, he did. Hallelujah! But he’s worried about you, told me to check on you, make sure you’re okay.” Estelle put the plate and a fork in front of her, then sat down in the other chair, propped her elbows and folded hands on the table, and closed her eyes. “Lord, bless this food and we’re grateful your guardian angels were on the ball at the train station this afternoon, amen … now eat.”
Grace was salivating, but hesitated. “If Harry’s not going to be home till later, why don’t you dish up some of this for yourself? Hate to eat in front of you.”
“Oh, maybe just a bite or two. I want to eat with Harry when he gets home.” Estelle grabbed a plate from the cabinet and dished up a small portion. “But I’m not gonna stay long, ’cause I know you gotta be tired. But, land sakes, tell me what happened.”
Between bites of the savory meat and vegetables hiding under a flaky crust, Grace told about the girl from the train who’d fainted, then discovering someone had taken off with her suitcase while she and Sam were helping her. “What I can’t figure out is, who’d want to steal my suitcase? All it had in it was clothes and stuff.”
Estelle shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe the thief thought you had some expensive jewelry. But … you say the girl disappeared too? That’s odd.”
Grace nodded. “I’m really worried about her.” She told Estelle about meeting the teenager in LA, how she was traveling with a guy at least ten years older, and something just didn’t feel right. “I mean, I was a vulnerable teenager once, and look what happened to me. And Ramona was traveling cross-country with this guy! But … I doubt I’ll ever see her again. Wish there was something I could do.”
Estelle was frowning. “Hmm. What about the guy she was with, this Max? Did you see him at the station? I wonder …” She tapped her fingers on the table as if thinking—then shook her head. “Oh, never mind. But you know what? I can tell God has put this Ramona girl on your heart and there is something you can do. You can pray for her. We’ll add her to the list for when we get together to pray, how about that? But now, I better go and let you get settled back home. Keep the dish for now—there’s enough for tomorrow too.”
Grace saw her to the door and watched as Estelle hustled across the street. Sounded like the prayer time was going to be a regular thing. Well, she could use it. She almost wished Estelle had stayed longer so she could’ve told h
er about the new wrinkle in her life. She surely needed some prayer to know what to do about Jeff and Roger.
Roger. Picking up her phone again, she pressed Play and put it to her ear …
“Grace? It’s Roger. Welcome back. Eager to see you. Hope you’ve had a day to recover. Now that the tour’s out of the way, hopefully we can spend some quality time working on our relationship. Any chance we can get together this weekend? Call me, okay?”
A day to recover? Well, of course. She’d told him she’d be back yesterday, hadn’t told him yet they’d added an extra day to the trip. How was she going to explain that? O Lord, I need more time to think—and pray! But she had to respond to his voice mail or he’d call again before she was ready—or think she was ignoring him, which had problems of its own.
She sent a text. Roger, thanks for the call. Yes, I’m back, but very bushed. Will call you tomorrow, OK?
Tomorrow …
But right now, she was going to “settle in,” as Estelle had said. The yummy shepherd’s pie gave her the necessary energy to unpack and start a small load of laundry. Most of her clothes were in the other suitcase anyway. Then she ran a tub full of hot soapy water, undressed, and sank beneath the foamy bubbles. Ahhhhhhhh …
Oreo wandered into the bathroom and settled down on the rug, tucking his white paws under his chest like a Sphinx, purring happily. Yes, they were both glad to be home. The thoughts tumbling in her mind slowed and seemed to relax.
What was it Estelle had said in her prayer? That guardian angels had been “on the ball” at the train station, protecting her and her suitcase. And she’d been serious. Well, the Bible was serious about angels too, protecting God’s people, fighting their battles. When the theft had first happened, a familiar old anxiety had elbowed its way back into her spirit. But as her muscles and spirit relaxed in the hot water, she had a new thought … maybe it was actually the other way around. Maybe it didn’t really matter what way she traveled because, bottom line … her protection was in God’s hands. Wherever.
Hadn’t God been freeing her from her fears, from needing to hide the secrets of her past? Estelle, Samantha, her brother, Jeff … hadn’t they all loved on her anyway, even knowing the sins of her youth? Hadn’t they showed her God’s grace? She no longer felt as if God was “out to get her,” but instead knew God had been there all along, wanting to give her the gift of unconditional love and forgiveness.
A few months ago she’d thought her life was falling apart. Yes, she’d fallen … but had landed on solid ground.
Grounded in God’s grace.
Tears slid down her face and mingled with the bubbles sloshing her neck and chin. Happy, grateful tears.
The bathwater was getting cool. Grace leaned forward and ran more hot water into the tub, then slid down under the bubbles again, thoughts still roaming. Nice of Roger to call—but there was something about his message that bothered her. What did he say? Once she’d stepped out of the tub, dried off, and bundled up in her bathrobe, she picked up her phone and listened to Roger’s voice mail again …
There. That was it. “Now that the tour’s out of the way …”
Out of the way. That’s what he thought of her singing, her concerts, her tours. Something to get “out of the way.”
Her eyes widened. So different than Jeff’s whole-hearted support of how God was using her. She thought again of what Mr. Bentley had said: “She makes me feel like I can be who God wants me to be. She believes in me, even when I don’t believe in myself.”
Roger had never made her feel like that.
A smile played on Grace’s face as she crawled into bed. Oreo curled up on the foot of the bed and she picked up the phone again. She would call Roger tomorrow. But right now …
She dialed and waited for the cell number to ring. Once, twice—
Her heart beat faster when she heard the hello on the other end.
“Jeff? It’s me, Grace …”
The guitar strum ringtone woke Grace from a sound sleep. Daylight was streaming through the half-closed blinds. She peered at the ringing phone with bleary eyes. What? Almost nine? Who was it? She didn’t recognize the number.
But she couldn’t help a lazy smile as she pushed the Talk button. She must’ve been sleeping like a baby. A very, very happy baby.
“Grace? Harry Bentley here. I’m down at the station and just wanted to let you know I’ll probably be able to bring the suitcase to your house by tonight. Sorry for the inconvenience, but it’s just, you know, security procedure.”
“Thanks, Mr. Bentley. I understand.” A well of gratitude bubbled in her spirit. Funny how the Bentleys—the newest people in the neighborhood—had impacted her life so profoundly. It was high time she made more of an effort to get to know the other people around her. “That’s the second time you saved me, you know.”
“Saved you? Just doin’ my job…. Uh, what do you mean ‘second time’?”
Grace laughed and said, “’Bye, Mr. Bentley. See you tonight.” She ended the call.
Maybe tonight she’d tell him how his simple description of the woman he loved had saved her from making a big mistake.
THE END
BOOK CLUB DISCUSSION QUESTIONS FOR GROUNDED
1. Has anyone ever walked out of your life … or said something hurtful … or given you upsetting news out of the blue that left you feeling as if you’d just been hit by a truck? Who did you blame—that person? Yourself? God? Why?
2. After Grace’s meltdown at the airport on the way home from her New Year, New You tour, what did you think about her vow to never fly again? (immature? unreasonable? understandable? or ____?) Why? Did your reaction to that incident change as you learned more about her past? Why or why not?
3. Grace coped with her secret by becoming passionate about purity and a message of “you’re worth the wait.” What was positive about the way she coped? What was negative? How did it affect her spiritually?
4. Why do you think Grace was so nervous when she was invited to her new neighbors’ home for supper? Have you ever been invited into the home of someone from a different racial group or cultural background? Have you ever invited someone from another racial group or culture to share your dinner table? Why does “breaking bread” in someone’s home have special significance in bridging cultural and racial barriers?
5. Think about your own neighborhood; do you know your neighbors? How well? What are the qualities that make “neighborhood” a reality? What was missing from the Beecham Street neighborhood? What happened that gave a spark of hope that one day Beecham Street might become a warm and welcoming neighborhood? What do you think Grace might do to fan that spark? In what way might she need to change?
6. Why do you think Estelle Bentley was the first person Grace felt safe enough with to tell her secret? What qualities in Estelle made Grace feel safe? What other qualities did Estelle bring to the relationship that impacted Grace in a positive way?
7. Why do hidden secrets—things that have happened in the past, things we’ve done, who we “really are” inside—have such a powerful grip on our lives? Why does bringing things into the light help diminish their power? What are some cautions about dredging up stuff from the past? In Grace’s case, how did “owning” her secret past bring her freedom?
8. What did you think when Roger admitted he’d made a mistake and wanted to give their relationship another chance? What do you think about his reasons for ending the engagement in the first place? What do you think he was hoping would make a difference? What were you hoping would happen?
9. Why was what Harry Bentley said about how he knew Estelle was “the one” so important to Grace? How did it help Grace make her decision? Do you think she made the right choice? What challenges might she still have to face?
10. Did the events on the train coming home from the Just Grace tour feel like a distraction to you? Are you left feeling, “What was that all about?” What are some of the questions you’re left with? How would you feel if we hin
ted that there’s more to the story involving Ramona and Max happening at the same time as Grace’s story … coming up in the parallel novel, Derailed, in the Windy City Neighbors series?
EXCERPT FROM DERAILED
BOOK 2 OF WINDY CITY NEIGHBORS SERIES
I dove for my compartment door and slid it open, running out into the hallway without my shades or any attempt to behave like a blind man. I had to get off the train!
Sylvia was in the vestibule, stowing the yellow stepstool when I came around the corner to the side door like a wild driver in a destruction derby. “Mr. Bentley! What in the world’s the matter? You ill? What are you doing? No, you can’t open that!” She yanked my hand from the door handle.
She was a lot stronger than I expected, but I broke free and pulled at the handle again. The door wouldn’t budge. This time she threw her body between me and the door like a Chicago Bears linebacker.
“Mr. Bentley, stop!” she yelled. “This is an outside door! If you open it and fall out while we’re going forty miles an hour, you’d kill yourself. Now get ahold’a yourself, man!”
The door hadn’t budged. I’d forgotten about the big safety “dog latch” at the top corner. But I could also see through the window that Sylvia was right. We were going far too fast to jump from the train without serious injury.
I stopped pulling at the door. In spite of myself, I knew I hadn’t fully blown my cover with Sylvia. In the melee, she’d been telling me this was an outside door, still assuming I couldn’t see.
“Sorry, sorry.” I stared blankly over her head as we relaxed. “Must’ve gotten disoriented … panicked.” I reached out and touched the walls on either side and backed off. I needed to think. Maybe call the state police to stop that Greyhound bus. “I’m really sorry, Miss Sylvia. I’ll just go back now. Don’t worry about me. I’m okay. And thank you. Thank you.”