A Gift of Grace

by Cooper, Inglath

  He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?” she asked, her voice sharp.

  Jeb stared at her, thinking about Elaine, Catherine’s mother, and the things Catherine had seen growing up. Doctor after doctor. Medications that had helped until Elaine had stopped taking them, any progress she had made eroding beneath a fresh wave of depression. Her eventual institutionalization. Catherine had talked to him about it in bits and pieces early on in their marriage, but at some point, she’d just seemed to close the door and not let herself revisit any of it.

  “Catherine,” he said.

  She turned away, reached for a pot from the stove and placed the apples in it. “Can we not talk about this now?”

  “I’m afraid if we don’t it’s going to swallow us both.”

  She went still for a moment, then filled the pot with water, set it back on the stove. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”

  But it wasn’t fine. And he knew with the worst kind of sinking feeling that all the things wrong between them weren’t going to fix themselves. He would walk to the moon and back for this woman he’d married thirty-seven years ago.

  But the truth, he knew in his gut. She wasn’t going to let him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AFTER CHURCH ON SUNDAY, Sophie and Grace turned in at the wooden sign marking the entrance to the Open Hearts Animal Home off route 29. The back of the Volvo was weighed down with donated items.

  Open Hearts had bought an old farm out in the country for its facility, converting the house and barn as well as a couple of other buildings into housing for unwanted dogs and cats. Sophie stopped the car in front of the house where a sign read Visitors Enter Here, Please. She got Grace out of the car seat, and they went inside to the registration desk.

  A woman appeared from the hallway to their left. Tall and thin with crinkly blue eyes, she wore faded denim overalls. Her dark hair hung in a braid to the center of her back. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Teresa Moore, the shelter director. Could I help you?”

  “I’m Sophie Owens. We spoke on the phone last week. My daughter, Grace, has some things to donate from her birthday party.”

  “Oh, yes. How wonderful of you, Grace.”

  Grace dropped her eyes at the woman’s compliment, obviously pleased.

  They unloaded the car, bringing everything into the foyer and stacking it in the corner. It was an impressive amount of stuff.

  “I can’t tell you how much all of this will be appreciated,” Teresa said, shaking her head.

  “You’re welcome,” Sophie replied. “Would it be possible for Grace to pick out a dog for her birthday?”

  Grace looked up at Sophie, her little mouth making a small O of surprise, her eyes widening. “Really, Mama?”

  “Really,” Sophie said, running a hand across her daughter’s silky hair.

  “Just follow me,” Teresa said, waving them down the hall. At the end, she opened a door, and they were greeted by a chorus of excited barks.

  “Everyone in here is available for adoption. They’ve all had shots and been spayed or neutered if they’re old enough.”

  Grace stood for a moment, clearly not sure where to look first.

  “Come on, sweetie,” Sophie said, taking her hand. They walked down the aisle, greeted at each cage with boisterous tail wagging. There was one exception. A medium-size black-and-white dog, notable in that she was the only one who had stayed at the back of her cage, her head resting on stretched-out paws, looking as if she’d long ago given up hope of a different life. Grace stopped at the dog’s door. “What’s her name?”

  “Lily,” Teresa said.

  Across the aisle, a chorus of excited yipping drew Grace’s attention. Five round-bellied puppies were conducting a wrestling match in the middle of the run. “Oh!” Grace bolted over and squatted down to peer through the chain-link door.

  Teresa smiled. “Aren’t they cute? They’re eight weeks old as of yesterday, so they can be adopted now, too.”

  “Oh, Mama,” Grace breathed.

  “They’re adorable,” Sophie said.

  “Would you like to play with them?” Teresa asked.

  Grace nodded. Teresa opened the door, and they all bounded out into the aisle, tumbling over one another. Grace giggled and ran after them. They played for several minutes while Sophie and Teresa watched with smiles on their faces.

  “Do you want to take one of the puppies, Grace?” Sophie asked.

  Grace looked up from the concrete floor where she sat with three of them climbing up her lap. She looked at the puppies and then at the older dog who had yet to get up from her position at the back of the cage.

  “Why does Lily look so sad?”

  “Lily has been here a long time,” Teresa said.

  “Is she sad because nobody’s picked her?”

  Teresa lifted one shoulder and sighed. “No matter how well we take care of them, it’s not the same as having a home.”

  Grace glanced down at the wiggling puppies on her lap, then back to Lily who was gazing at her with eyes devoid of any expectation. Grace remained silent for several moments. And then said, “Mama, can I see Lily?”

  “Is it all right, Teresa?”

  “Of course.” She put the puppies back in their cage where they continued their wrestling. She opened Lily’s door and looked at Grace. “You can go in and pet her. She’s really good with children.”

  Grace walked to the back of the run, squatted and rubbed Lily’s long coat. “She’s soft.”

  “I suspect she has some cocker spaniel in her. And some type of setter, judging from her coat. She’s a very sweet dog. Probably the most undemanding one here.”

  Lily’s tailed thumped once. Grace kept rubbing her. After a few moments, Lily stood up, her head low, tail tucked.

  Grace glanced back at the puppies, then looked at Sophie. “I want to pick Lily, Mama.”

  Lily raised her head and licked Grace’s cheek.

  “Lily, it is,” Sophie said. “Let’s take her home.”

  LILY NEEDED A COLLAR and leash, a doggy bed and a bone to chew on.

  So proclaimed Grace, along with her desire to buy them at the place where Noah lived.

  “I want to tell him about Lily, Mama.”

  There were other places they could have gone Lily-shopping, other places that were closer than Tucker’s. But Sophie reasoned that Grace liked the yellow Lab, and why shouldn’t they give the store their business when its owner had been nice enough to haul that hay out to their house for them?

  After Sophie got back from her morning classes on Monday, she changed clothes, brushed some fresh powder across her nose, put on a medium-pink lipstick she usually only wore at night.

  Halfway down the hall, she turned back to the bathroom, pulled out the rubber band that had anchored her hair at her neck, brushed through it a few times, started to put it back up, then at the last second, left it loose around her shoulders.

  CALEB SPENT MOST OF the day at the store, working in the office upstairs and watching the register out front while Macy went to lunch.

  It was almost one-thirty when the front door dinged. Sophie and Grace Owens came in and stood on the other side of the counter. A hot and cold blast of emotion washed over him.

  “Afternoon, Dr. Owens,” he said, aiming his voice toward steady and even when everything else inside him rocked like a dingy on storm-churned seas.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hay bales hold up?”

  “Yes. They did.” She cleared her throat, a small, feminine sound that somehow stood out in contrast with her precise, no-nonsense manner. “Thank you again for bringing them out. And, please, it’s Sophie.”

  Caleb nodded, aware of the stiffness in his face, seeing its effect on the woman, who glanced down and put a hand on the little girl’s shoulder.

  “We need a bed and a collar for my new dog,” the child said.

  Caleb had no choice but
to look at her then, and it was like having someone stick a knife in the center of his heart. Laney’s eyes. She had Laney’s eyes. “A new dog?”

  “Her name’s Lily. She gets to sleep with me.”

  Noah trotted over from his post by Russell’s perch, a stuffed toy in his mouth, wagging his tail and making a happy circle around the little girl.

  “Hi, Noah,” she said and giggled when he nudged her leg with the toy.

  “Easy, Noah,” Caleb said.

  Noah sat and looked at her with adoring eyes, his tail swishing back and forth on the wood floor like a windshield wiper.

  “We’ll just look around if that’s all right,” Sophie said.

  He was having a hard time thinking of her as Sophie, even though she’d introduced herself that way. Sophie was personal. He didn’t want personal. He wanted distance. He wanted to rewind the tape and go back to Thursday morning when she and that little girl had walked into the store. He wanted to redo things so that he stayed upstairs instead of coming down to help her. Then none of this would ever have happened.

  “Sure,” he said, not meeting her eyes. “Let me know if I can help with anything.”

  Noah followed them around the store, trailing after the little girl aisle to aisle, love struck. Caleb watched from up front, more discreet than Noah, but equally unable to take his eyes off her. Like Laney, there was something about her that drew people, a warm glow that made her seem almost lit from within.

  Sophie came back to the register. “I was wondering if you could recommend a good dog food,” she said. “I’ve never bought any, so I really have no idea—”

  Caleb moved around the counter, accidentally brushing arms with her. She stepped to the side quickly, bumping into a water-hose cart. On impulse, he reached out to steady her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, looking embarrassed.

  Caleb pulled his hand back as if it had just encountered a red-hot surface, then nodded and headed to where he kept the dog food. “We’ve got several brands. I can show you the one I feed Noah. It’s a little pricey, but it’s certified human-grade food with omega-3 and six EFAs. Good for their coat, and it has some extra antioxidants, as well.”

  She followed, arms crossed at her waist. “That sounds good.”

  Caleb pulled a bag from the shelf and held it out for her inspection. “How much does she weigh?”

  “Forty-five pounds or so?”

  “This would do then.”

  “Okay,” she said. “We’ll take that one.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Food and water bowls.”

  “Over here,” he said, moving a few steps up the aisle. “Stainless steel or plastic?”

  “Stainless steel.”

  He picked up two. “These all right?”

  She nodded, keeping her gaze on the bowls. She hadn’t looked at him directly since they’d left the front counter. She bent slightly forward and her hair swung free of its anchor behind her ear. She reached up, tucked it back, still without looking at him. In that unobserved moment, he noted a few details about her. Still no rings on her hands. A watch with a plain leather band circled her left wrist. Crisp white blouse and equally wrinkle-free khaki pants. Dark brown loafers. Career woman in weekend casual.

  Since he was sixteen years old, there had been one woman to whom he compared all others. And he did so now with the complete acceptance that she would be his only benchmark for the rest of his life.

  Individually, Laney’s features had been extraordinary. Wide blue eyes with thick, fringed lashes. Straight, small nose. Lips and cheeks that had never needed cosmetics for color. Caleb had long been used to people staring at his wife in admiration, even though she herself had never seen it, always pointing out what she considered her shortcomings.

  Sophie Owens did not strike him as the kind of woman people often stared at. Her features were closer to ordinary than extraordinary. Brown eyes, medium blond hair, high cheekbones. But the overall effect was attractive in an understated sort of way. And he wondered what her life was like, why she had chosen to adopt a child and what it was that had brought their paths to this intersection.

  He gathered up the bowls and the bag of food, carrying them to the front where she had left the things they’d already picked out. The silence between them uncomfortable, Caleb cleared his throat once before punching each of the items into a computer that balked regularly under any touch other than Macy’s. Today was no exception. It refused to print a receipt. Caleb finally gave up and looked at Sophie.

  “All right if I send you a printout of your purchase in the mail? I can’t seem to find the right button.”

  “Sure,” she said. “That’ll be fine.”

  He wrote down her address, and then carried her stuff out to the car while she went to get Grace. They met him outside, the child talking nonstop about Noah and how maybe Lily would like to have a cat to play with, too.

  Sophie unlocked the car. Caleb opened the back and put everything inside. He closed the lid and stepped up on the sidewalk. A moment of stark awkwardness fell over them. How many times could he do this? How long could he look at that little girl and keep his face clear of the agony inside him?

  “Well, thank you again,” she said, buckling Grace into her car seat and opening her own door.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, then turned and went inside.

  DRIVING HOME, SOPHIE GLANCED in the rearview mirror. Grace was fast asleep, clutching Lily’s new toy in one hand. Sophie turned off the radio, wanting the quiet.

  What was she to make of that look on Caleb Tucker’s face just before he’d abruptly gone back in the store?

  She had put Grace in her car seat, and when she’d turned to take the bags and thank him, he’d been staring at her daughter. It was as if a shadow had come over him, and through the narrow crack in his composure, she had glimpsed something that looked like the most intense pain she’d ever seen on another person’s face.

  Had he lost a child of his own?

  She knew next to nothing about him, but Sophie liked to put labels on things. Sum them up so she knew exactly what she was dealing with. Good or bad, she wanted to know, because only in knowing could a person choose the safe direction.

  Back there, in that moment, it had felt as if there was something she should know.

  Okay, so maybe she was reaching, overreacting. Maybe it was nothing more than that he was in a hurry, and she’d taken up enough of his time.

  Ahead of her, a car slowed for two cyclists riding with traffic. She tapped the brake, straddled the centerline until she’d gone around them. She recognized them as two professors from the university. She raised a hand in greeting and drove on.

  Most of the men in Sophie’s circle were nothing like Caleb Tucker. They wore tweed blazers and khaki pants, glasses that stayed perched on the ends of their noses. Drove Subarus and played chess on Thursday nights.

  Caleb Tucker wore Wrangler jeans and boots. Soft cotton shirts that looked as though they’d never held the starch of a dry cleaner. She had no idea what he did on Thursday nights. And she doubted that he cycled on weekends in tight stretch pants.

  But he looked at her with questions in his eyes.

  How did she explain the almost magnetic pull to drive out there today?

  She had no answers, and so, no way of identifying the safe direction where he was concerned.

  But something told her she should keep her distance. A small but persistent voice that said it would be dangerous to do otherwise.

  Sophie’s mother had once told her that voice was God’s megaphone, and even though she’d been seven years old at the time, she had never forgotten.

  She glanced at Grace again in the mirror now, her small face almost angelic in sleep.

  And she had her answer.

  They wouldn’t be going back out to Tucker’s.

  CHAPTER SIX

  AFTER MACY GOT BACK from lunch, Caleb drove home, too restless to stay at the store. He needed spa
ce around him. He let Noah in the house, went to the barn and grabbed a halter, called the three horses grazing in the nearby pasture. They loped to the gate. He put the halter on Winnie and led her to the barn.

  She was Laney’s mare, and Laney had been the last one on her. She’d always been a handful, too much horse for the weekend ride his wife had bought her to be. But she’d ridden the mare every Saturday and Sunday, taking off through the fields at a full gallop, her hair and the mare’s tail flying out behind them like flags of freedom.

  Caleb ran a brush over the horse, picked out her hoofs, threw on a pad and saddle, then climbed up. He could feel the mare’s energy beneath his seat, like a spring ready to pop. They jigged out of the barn, down the lane between the house and pasture, and he let her go. Her hooves pounded the old dirt road. They followed it a quarter mile or so, then cut through a hay field he’d just mowed last week. He wished they could ride straight for the horizon and over the edge into whatever peace was to be found there.

  Because there was no peace for him here.

  Midway out the field, he slowed the horse to a lope, then a jog and finally a walk, much to her displeasure. He was convinced she would run until she dropped. She had that kind of heart, and that was what had drawn Laney to her. She’d bought her at a stockyard sale where the mare had ended up after throwing some fool kid who’d been riding her with two-inch spurs. He’d spent the morning telling everybody there the horse had the devil in her, better let her go with the dog-food guys. As soon as Laney had heard that, they’d been buying the mare outright for more cash than the boy had ever hoped to see for her. From that point on, the mare had belonged to Laney in every sense of the word. Caleb sometimes thought the horse had grieved as much as he had when she was gone.

  They circled the back side of the field now, stopping short of his parent’s house, an updated version of his own. Two-story, white frame with a porch on the front.

  His mother was working in the garden, a big straw hat sitting low on her head. She looked up, spade in hand, spotted him and waved. Caleb gave the horse a soft squeeze with his legs and they headed toward her.