A Fine Line

by Emma Leigh Reed

  “Enter.”

  Xander pushed open the door and walked in.

  “Sebastian, I didn’t know you were coming home.” His father rose and waited for Xander to come into the room and sit down.

  Xander slid into a chair and gestured for his father to sit. “It was a last minute decision. I heard about Abigail McAllister’s death and wanted to pay my respects.”

  “Why? She was nothing to this family.”

  Xander sighed. “She was a kind woman who lived in the same town you did for years. It was the right thing to do.”

  “Sebastian, I don’t need to tell you that our family has nothing to do with the McAllisters. They were beneath us and we really don’t need to attend those types of functions.”

  Xander stood, his fists clenched at his sides. John Stevens could be a cold man, but even the words coming from his mouth were nothing short of icicles. “You never change.” Disgust exuded from his words and Xander turned towards the door.

  “Sebastian Alexander, sit down!” The command stopped Xander in his tracks. Even as an adult, he couldn’t deliberately disobey his father. He turned and slid back into the chair. Stared at his father.

  John pushed back in his chair, tapping his fingers together. “What is it you are really doing here?”

  Xander shook his head. “I told you. I came to pay respect to Grace regarding his mother’s death.”

  “You have always been told to stay away from that girl.”

  “And you sent me away to ensure it, didn’t you?”

  “I sent you away to the best prep school there was so you could have a proper education. Nothing more than that.”

  “Yeah, right.” Xander stood. “I really would like to say hello to Mother.”

  John gestured, dismissing him. “She’s probably out in the garden.”

  Xander wandered into the kitchen as he headed to the back gardens. Stopping just inside the kitchen door, he closed his eyes. The smell of fresh baked bread and yeast assaulted his senses. He could pick out the distinct aroma of garlic coming from the oven. The smells awakened his senses bringing him back to a time in his life where the kitchen was the middle of his comfort zone.

  “Now, Xander, my boy, you better come right over here and give me a hug.” Hattie’s voice brought back memories of his favorite place in this house. The round woman gestured him closer. Her ample size ready to be engulfed into a bear hug.

  He pulled Hattie into a hug. Hattie, the cook, had always been his favorite. She had mothered him when he was sick, given him a place to hide when he couldn’t stand the coldness of the house and gave him more support than he could ever remember anyone else giving, although Abigail McAllister had been a close second.

  “Whatcha doing home, child?” Hattie waved her hand for him to sit on a stool while she went back to mixing whatever sweet she had started.

  “I went to Abigail McAllister’s funeral today.”

  “Good for you, honey. That woman loved you.”

  Xander’s face lit up. “How do you know that, Hattie?”

  “Child, I would spend my day off over at Ms. Abigail’s home. She was so good to me. I kept her updated on what you were doing. She was always so concerned that your father tried to keep you from her Gracie.”

  “Why? Why couldn’t I be friends with Grace?”

  Hattie shook her head. “I don’t know the whole story. All I know is…” The back door opened and in stepped Elizabeth Stevens. She was the picture of perfection as she glided into the room.

  “Sebastian.” She pulled him into a quick hug before smoothing her perfect dress and her hair. She gave an unconscious shake to rid herself of the repulsed contact.

  “Mother.” Xander had a soft spot for his mother, even if she was not the warm, affectionate mother he had always wanted, but that’s where Hattie had come in. He supposed he was fortunate to have a mother and a cook who acted like his mother.

  “How long are you staying?” Elizabeth laid six long-stemmed roses on the counter, which Hattie immediately picked up to fuss with. “Those are for the foyer, Hattie.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll probably leave tonight, mother. Father doesn’t seem all that thrilled that I am here.”

  “Nonsense. You know your father. You are welcome anytime. Please stay at least until tomorrow. We haven’t talked in so long.”

  “I can stay the night, but just so you know, I came for Abigail McAllister’s funeral.”

  Elizabeth’s face immediately turned stone cold. “You didn’t tell your father that?”

  Xander stared at her. “Of course I did.”

  “Why, Sebastian? Why do you have to agitate him so?”

  “I went because it is the right thing to do, not to cause you or Father any discomfort.”

  Elizabeth smiled too brightly. “Dear, it’s okay. I know you have a heart that sometimes is too kind to the undeserving. You just haven’t learned when to keep those things quiet yet.”

  “I have nothing to keep quiet, Mother. What are you afraid of?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “What time is dinner served, Hattie?”

  “Six, like usual, ma’am.” Hattie busied herself with arranging the flowers.

  “Fine. I will see you then, Sebastian. And no talk of this funeral at dinner.” Elizabeth fled the room.

  Hattie patted him on the shoulder. “Child, some things never change.”

  “I still want to talk to you, Hattie, about this stupid feud.”

  Hattie waved her hand. “You need to go now. I have to finish dinner. We’ll talk later.”

  Xander sighed as he wandered out into the back yard. He sat down at the patio table and took in the scenery. The acres behind the house sprawled out before him. He couldn’t remember a time when the lawns weren’t perfectly manicured and the hedges immaculately shaped. His own reality right here was that this was the perfect home and he was the rebel child who was sent away to avoid causing a blemish in this family.

  At the end of the property, although not quite visible from the house, stood an old cottage that Hattie had occupied since she was brought on as a cook. Xander had spent many evenings down there watching TV with her, eating popcorn. Hattie had encouraged him to be free with his thoughts and to make decisions based on his wants and needs, not those of his father’s. Xander had thanked her by never mentioning to his parents where he came up with the idea he could express his thoughts. In some aspects, being sent away from home was the best thing that had happened to Xander.

  He had been able to pursue his own dreams. His father insisted he get a law degree. Xander had changed his major to marketing, graduating top of his class. His father threatened to cut him off for that change, but for once Elizabeth had stood up to her husband and begged John to be lenient with their son. Xander had spent the last four years doing freelance marketing work, allowing him to move from place to place, never settling. He kept his bad boy image, and in fact, thrived on it.

  His father would be horrified to know about the tattoo on Xander’s shoulder, a lion that reminded him of the strength he had come to find in himself. He glanced at his watch. Five o’clock. He had an hour until dinner. Not time enough to go check on Grace. How he wanted to see her again. He had been itching to pull that hair out of that blasted bun since the funeral. When he had told her to let her hair down, he had definitely meant literally, along with figuratively.

  Xander moved from the table to a lounge chair next to the pool. He slipped off his leather jacket and lay back. His sunglasses in place, he closed his eyes and felt the tension leave his body. The sun warmed him, and he felt tempted to take off his T-shirt. He smiled. Grace would have been shocked if he had taken off his jacket at the funeral and showed the tight fitting shirt. He wondered how she felt about tattoos. Had she ever wanted to cut loose and rebel against the expectations set so high for her?

  Expectations. He hated that word. It suffocated him.

  Chapter 3

  Grace slipped
into her yoga pants and a tank top. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she wandered out to her balcony. The lights remained off in her apartment. The sun had just started to go down over the horizon. She looked up and lifted her glass in silent salute to her mom. The Abigail she had known and loved hadn’t been the same one she took care of the past couple of years.

  Abigail had become a shell of a person Grace had known as the cancer ate away at her. She continued to love music, but the dancing had ceased. Grace had watched her mother slip away little by little. If the truth was told, Grace had been grieving her mother’s loss for the two years prior to her actual death. Xander had been right. She needed to remember her for who she had been, not the person Abigail portrayed to others. The real Abigail– the one that hurt more deeply, yet never showed her tears; the woman who put everyone ahead of herself, but would be in need and never tell a soul. Grace had learned all the lessons she had been taught about never letting anyone see your vulnerabilities.

  So Grace sat in the shadow of her balcony, drinking wine, tears coursing down her face as she remembered her mom. The physical pain ran deep and she cried at all she had lost, and for the unknown future, unsure of what she should be doing now. Her mother had been her rock, her encourager and biggest fan. No matter what Grace did, her mother showered her with love. Grace knew that not everyone had a childhood like that.

  She thought about all the townspeople that had showed up for the funeral. One dominating family stood out as being absent. She had heard stories of the Stevens family right here in town. Although she never met them, they were known for hating everyone and for some reason, hating her mother most of all. Grace never knew the reason and Abigail never talked about it. Abigail simply said some people get consumed by hate and can’t find their way to be good people.

  After the first glass of wine was gone, Grace brought the bottle out to the balcony with her. What was the point of having to get up to keep filling it? Tonight she was indulgent and tomorrow she would put on her “good girl” persona and do the right thing for all to see.

  Her doorbell rang just as the sky had become dark. Grace startled at the sudden intrusion into her quietness. She contemplated not answering. Hadn’t the townspeople had their fill of her today? As the doorbell rang a second time, Grace cursed silently and made her way to the door.

  With a deep breath, she slowly opened the door.

  “Hey. Figured you hadn’t eaten so I brought dinner.”

  Grace blinked her eyes. Three glasses of wine and she suddenly started hallucinating. Xander stood at her door! She gripped the handle tighter, hoping for a brief moment he would go away before stepping back allowing him access.

  Xander stepped inside and handed her a covered dish. “It’s still warm, so go grab a fork and start eating.”

  “What?” Grace, realizing this wasn’t a dream, glanced from the dish in her hand to Xander.

  “Did I wake you?”

  “No. I was sitting on the balcony.” Grace pointed and then glanced down at the plate in her hand again. The aroma teased her and her stomach rumbled in response. “Oh, my. I guess I am hungry.”

  Xander chuckled. “Come on. Go back out on the balcony and I’ll get you a fork.”

  Grace allowed herself to be pushed towards the balcony as Xander headed towards her kitchen. She sat down at the small bistro sized table, her wine glass and bottle still there.

  “Here.” Xander set the fork down in front of her.

  She dug in with gusto, the mashed potato and pot roast with carrots and onions hitting the spot. This was comfort food. “Why?” She asked between bites.

  “Why what? Bring you food?” Xander watched her, amused as she nodded. “I just figured you might be hungry, and I wanted to see you again.”

  Grace paused. She laid her fork down and sat back. “You wanted to see me again?”

  Xander met her stare. “Of course. Love your hair down, by the way.”

  Grace self-consciously grabbed the ends of her hair and attempted to twist it back into a bun.

  “Please, leave it down. It suits you.”

  She felt herself blush as she continued to eat. “So tell me about yourself.”

  Xander shrugged. “Nothing to tell, really.”

  “Who are you? How did you know my mom?”

  Xander paused. “I met her years ago as a child. She was kind to me and I never forgot it. I’ve lived away for years now.”

  “You grew up here?” Grace pushed the plate away and refilled her wine glass. “Do you want some? I’m sorry, I don’t have anything else.”

  “No, I’m good.” Xander shook his head slowly. “I did grow up here.”

  “Why don’t I remember you? We must have gone to school together.”

  “No, I want to private schools.” Xander cleared his throat. “So what’s next on the agenda for you?”

  “You don’t like talking about yourself, huh?” Grace sipped her wine. “Okay, but we’re going to finish this conversation at some point. I’m a teacher, second grade. I love those kids so much. It makes me feel like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

  Grace talked nonstop for the next couple of hours about her work and her mother’s influence on her wanting to be a teacher. She suddenly stopped and glanced into the darkness realizing how freely she had chatted after so much wine. “I’ve talked your ear off. You probably have someplace to be.”

  “I’ve enjoyed it. I probably should leave you now, but would love to see you again before I head out of town.”

  Grace stood. “I don’t know.”

  Xander ran his finger around a ringlet framing her face. “Let me take you for that motorcycle ride.”

  Grace stood still. Heat coursed through her. She wanted to, wanted to so much. “I don’t know.”

  “You said that before. Come on, Grace, let me show you how much fun letting your hair down can be.” Xander leaned towards her. “You don’t always need to be the good girl. Cut loose.”

  His lips were close to hers and Grace wanted to taste them. She wanted to run her tongue along his. She closed her eyes. She had never felt this way before about anyone.

  “Say yes, Grace.”

  She opened her eyes. The lump in her throat stopped any words from coming out so she simply nodded.

  Xander smiled and stepped back, his fingers leaving her hair. She suddenly felt cooler and longed for that heat again. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up at ten. We’ll get out of town and go for lunch up the coast.”

  She nodded again as she followed him to the door. He turned towards her and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Wear jeans, sneakers and bring a light jacket.”

  He was gone before she could respond. Grace leaned against the door. She had just agreed to go on a motorcycle. She waited for the panic to hit her, but instead felt nothing but excitement. Guilt hit her briefly. She should be grieving not swooning over a man, yet she couldn’t help but be thankful she felt beyond grief and pain.

  Chapter 4

  Xander woke with the sun shining. It had been years since he had felt so excited and nervous about being with a girl for a day. He typically kept his dating very casual, never wanting to give a girl the wrong impression. But Grace was different. He wanted more with her. For the first time ever, he could envision a life that involved a family. Where did those thoughts come from? He was here only a short time and then headed back to his carefree lifestyle, going place to place and working as he felt he needed to.

  He slipped into the kitchen, eating a quiet breakfast, wanting to avoid running into his parents today. A chill always crept over him when they were around. He would check into a hotel in town today. He wanted to stick around to get to know Grace better, but he couldn’t stay here.

  “Boy, why are you hiding in here? Your parents are wondering if you are coming to breakfast.” Hattie startled him as she came up behind him.

  “I can’t have breakfast with them this morning. I’m headed out for the day.”

  Ha
ttie gave a small laugh. “What are you up to?”

  Xander paused for a moment. “I’m spending the day with Grace McAllister.”

  “Ohhh, boy, you better be careful.” Hattie smiled. “She’s a sweetheart; don’t you be pulling your love-her-and-leave stuff on her.”

  Xander’s hand went to his heart. “Me? I’m not like that.”

  Hattie smacked his hand down. “I’m serious. You be good to her.”

  Xander kissed her on the cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You better go before your momma comes through here. Get going.”

  Xander grinned as he waved good bye and snuck out the back door. It almost felt like his teenage days when he constantly snuck out to cause trouble. He had only landed in jail once, but had caused enough heartache—more likely disappointment—in his parents that he had been shipped out, hidden from this town and any gossip that he might bring upon the family.

  Pain sliced through him at the loss he realized he suffered through as a teenager. There had been no supportive parents, no warm home life. He had grown up in a cold, stifling household that had pushed him into acting out for attention. He hadn’t done anything really bad, but enough that he had been labeled the bad boy. A label he found he enjoyed.

  He arrived at Grace’s at exactly ten a.m. She must have been watching for him because she stepped out before he got off his bike. She stood nervously on the front steps as he approached her.

  “Morning.”

  “Hi.” Xander held out his hand to her and waited until she placed her small hand in his.

  “You ready for this?”

  Grace nodded, but then shook her head no. “I’m not sure.”

  “Piece of cake.” Xander helped her put on the extra helmet. He straddled the bike, and then placed her hand on his shoulder. She soon got situated behind him. She tentatively rested her hands on his waist.