A Gift of Grace

by Cooper, Inglath

  WITH THE JUDGE’S FINAL words, Amanda Donovan mouthed a quiet, pleased, “Yes.” She put a hand on Caleb’s arm and gave it a firm squeeze.

  For Caleb, each of these things barely registered.

  He should be pleased. This was a step toward fixing the mistake he’d made. And yet there was no pleasure in the moment.

  He let himself look at Sophie Owens then. She sat straight in the chair but with her head tipped forward, one hand latched to the heavy wood table in front of her, as if without that anchor she might capsize.

  Her attorney bent toward her, speaking quietly, the palm of one hand at the center of her client’s back.

  He stood then, the back of his chair banging the divider wall behind him.

  “Caleb. Are you all right?” Amanda asked.

  “I have to go,” he said.

  “I’ll call you.” Her words reached him halfway down the room’s center aisle.

  Caleb cleared the courtroom in a few lengthy strides. His mother called out to him, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t face her now.

  The elevator doors were open, and he bolted across the hall, jumping inside.

  At the back of the elevator stood Sophie’s aunt and uncle.

  The aunt smiled at him as if they had just completed some successful joint venture. She looked as if she might pull a bottle of champagne from her oversize purse and pop the cork right there.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Tucker,” she said.

  Something in her voice stuck to his skin like honey, sickeningly sweet. “I don’t think there were any winners here today, ma’am.”

  Her penciled-in eyebrows lifted. “Really? My guess is that you’ll end up with the child. You got what you came for, didn’t you?”

  Caleb let his gaze settle fully on her then. It was impossible to miss the satisfaction in those chilly eyes. The uncle standing next to her cleared his throat, shifted from one booted foot to the other. Clearly, Ruby Owens’s intent on that stand this morning had been to settle a score. “I might ask the same of you, Mrs. Owens.”

  The elevator stopped two floors from ground level, the doors sliding open. A man in a suit stepped inside.

  Caleb got out and took the stairs.

  SOPHIE MADE HER WAY to the parking lot as if she were on autopilot, hardly aware of the steps that led her there. Her car sat in the far corner of the lot. A minivan backed out of a space several yards ahead and pulled toward her.

  Uncle Roy and Aunt Ruby. Sophie raised a hand and asked them to stop. Roy did so, lowering the driver’s-side window, not quite meeting her eyes.

  She stared at them for a moment, and then said, “You must hate me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ruby said, leaning across the seat, her lips a thin line of disapproval.

  She shook her head. “How else could you have done that?”

  “I simply told the truth.”

  “You wanted them to believe I don’t have what it takes to be a good mother.”

  “You chose to believe what you wanted, Sophie. Regardless of anything I said.”

  “I feel sorry for you, Ruby. That you’ve carried that around all these years.”

  “You always saw everything as being about you.”

  Sophie gasped with the unfairness of the accusation. She had been a child in Ruby’s house. A child who had lost both parents and a sister.

  Roy started to say something, stopped as if thinking better of it, then spoke. “Be quiet, Ruby. I think you’ve done enough damage for one day.” He glanced at Sophie. “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes held the truth of that, and in his voice, she heard apology, not only for this day, but for the whole thing. For the first time, Sophie realized that Roy did not feel the same as Ruby. Maybe his going along with her had been about keeping peace in a life that was anything but peaceful.

  She wished that he could have been different. That he had stood up to Ruby a long time ago. But he hadn’t. And would probably pay dearly for the stance he had taken just now.

  He nodded once, raised the window and drove away.

  SOPHIE LET HERSELF into the house, dropping her keys on the foyer table. Darcy came down from upstairs. “You’re back,” she said. “Grace is asleep. I just put her down a few minutes ago….” She stopped there, her voice trailing off.

  Sophie met her friend’s concerned gaze.

  “Oh, Sophie,” Darcy said, shaking her head.

  With those two words, Sophie began to cry.

  Darcy stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her. “No,” she said. “No.”

  They stood there, holding one another up while anguish gripped them both, and Sophie tried to imagine how she would ever get through this.

  THE FRIDAY MORNING marking the beginning of Judge Hartley’s custody assignment arrived, weighted with a sky of heavy gray clouds.

  Sophie had tried to explain to Grace, days ago, what was going to happen, that she would be spending some time with the man who belonged to Noah. She had been excited about that part at first, but now that the morning had arrived, she was subdued, not eating her breakfast, clinging to Sophie’s side, as if afraid to let her out of her sight. She clutched Blanky in one hand and had started sucking her thumb, a comfort ritual she had given up at least a year before.

  Sophie tried to act normal, sound normal, going about their morning routine as if nothing extraordinary were about to happen. But she heard the difference in her own voice, a note of fear that she hid from Grace no better than she hid it from herself. Finally, she picked Grace up, went into the living room and sat in the rocker by the window, holding the child close against her. Lily lay down on the floor beside them, not taking her eyes off Grace. They sat that way, until the sound of a car turning into the driveway made Sophie stiffen. She kissed Grace’s forehead and said, “There’s something I want you to remember no matter what. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you. Nothing is going to change that. Promise me you’ll remember that?”

  “I don’t want to go, Mama.”

  Sophie smoothed a piece of Grace’s blond hair from her face. “Everything is going to be all right. Just different. We’ll make this work, okay?”

  “Mama, don’t make me go,” Grace said, her voice rising. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

  “Oh, baby.” Sophie’s own voice broke. “You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re the best little girl I could ever have hoped for.”

  “Then why do I have to go away?”

  On Grace’s face, Sophie saw hurt and confusion. How could she make her daughter understand that this wasn’t punishment? When that was exactly what it felt like?

  She went to the door with Grace’s arms wrapped around her neck, her legs around her waist, face tucked against Sophie’s chest. The little girl sobbed as if her heart had broken in half.

  Sophie prayed for strength, prayed for her knees not to buckle beneath the pull of her own grief.

  She opened the door. A small-framed woman in khaki pants and a navy blazer greeted her with the solemnity of someone who deeply regretted what she was about to do.

  “Good morning. I’m Carey Jones,” she said. “I’ll be taking Grace to Mr. Tucker’s house.”

  “Her things are here in this bag. And please make sure she has her blanket.” Sophie’s voice was ragged as she added, “She can’t sleep without it.”

  “I’ll make sure.”

  Sophie hugged her daughter as tightly as she dared, wanting every ounce of her love to go with her out that door, carry her through these next two days.

  The woman waited, and then said quietly, “May I take her now, Dr. Owens?”

  Sophie pressed her face against Grace’s hair, squeezing the child hard against her. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she didn’t bother to try and stop them now. She kissed Grace’s forehead and said, “Be a good girl, okay?”

  Grace clung tighter, her sobs heavy and heart wrenching.

  Mrs. Jones reached for her, and Sophie had to pry Grace’s hand
s from her shoulders, telling her everything was going to be all right.

  The social worker took her quickly, reaching for the suitcase and then hurrying down the sidewalk to the car.

  Grace screamed, arching her back against the woman’s arm. “Mama! Maaa-maaaa!”

  The sound put a permanent crack in Sophie’s heart, the pain so real it took the breath from her. Lily ran back and forth in the foyer, whining.

  The woman put Grace in the car seat, then got in the front and started the engine.

  Sophie stood at the door, one hand covering her mouth, not sure how she would live through the next moment.

  Mrs. Jones backed out of the driveway, and still Sophie could hear Grace’s wail.

  The car disappeared down the street. Sophie closed the door, dropped to her knees and wept.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CALEB WAITED IN THE KITCHEN with his mother. They’d drunk more coffee than was logical, and they were each so tense that every sound plucked at their already raw nerves.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in that floor, Caleb,” Catherine chastised.

  She had dressed in her Sunday best, but looked as if she hadn’t slept last night, worry lines prominent on her face.

  Just when Caleb thought he couldn’t stand another minute, a car pulled up in the driveway. His mom stood. Caleb forced his legs to move him to the front door. His heart was beating so fast he could feel the pounding in his temple.

  He heard the child’s crying before he opened the door.

  On his porch stood a solemn woman holding the little girl who sobbed a single word. “Mama.” Her eyes were red and tear-swollen, and Caleb’s heart caved at the sight of her.

  He swallowed, and the woman said, “Mr. Tucker? I’m Carrie Jones with Social Services. Grace is very upset. I haven’t been able to console her. If I could bring her inside?”

  Caleb nodded and stepped back. His mother stood to the side, visibly torn by the child’s wrenching cries. Caleb led the way to the living room where Mrs. Jones set Grace down, one hand on her shoulder.

  Grace ran to the corner of the living room, scooted behind the oversize chair, her sobs on the verge of hysteria.

  Mrs. Jones wiped a hand across her forehead. “She’ll be all right?”

  Caleb nodded, having no idea whether she would or not. He had never heard such heartbrokenness.

  Mrs. Jones went back to the car, returned with Grace’s things and then left without saying another word.

  The sound of the child’s anguish filled the room.

  “Oh, Caleb,” Catherine said, one hand going to her mouth.

  Noah trotted in, having sneaked through the door from the front porch as the social worker was leaving. He went straight to the chair, ducking behind it even as Caleb started to call him back. The dog’s tail thumped back and forth between the wall and the chair. Grace’s crying softened to sniffles.

  Caleb and Catherine stood like statues, until Noah backed away from the chair and threw a questioning look at Caleb.

  Catherine crossed the room, pulled the chair out and lifted Grace into her arms. “Oh, honey,” she said. “I’m so sorry. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

  Grace looked at Catherine, then Caleb, her lower lip still quivering uncontrollably.

  “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?” Catherine said, smoothing a hand over the child’s blond hair. “Why don’t we show you your room upstairs?”

  Grace looked down at Noah.

  “Noah can come with us,” Catherine said.

  That seemed to soothe her enough to still her trembling mouth for a moment.

  “I’ll carry her upstairs, Mom.”

  Catherine started to hand Grace to him, but the child shrank away and began crying again.

  “It’s all right,” Catherine said.

  The room was at the end of the upstairs hallway. Laney had painted it a year or so after they’d been married in the hope that they would soon use the room as a nursery. The walls were a buttery yellow, adorned with nothing more than a single mirror above a small white dresser and a twin-size bed that looked lost in the large room.

  Caleb and his mom had spent half of yesterday in Toys “R” Us looking for things Grace might like. Caleb had been clueless but for the age recommendations on the boxes. Catherine had been a little more adept, picking out a soft, cuddly doll and an oversize stuffed gorilla, which now sat in the corner of the room, a silly smile on its face.

  Catherine lowered Grace to the edge of the bed. “There you go, honey.”

  Grace shot a longing glance at the gorilla, then crawled to the head of the bed, curling up on the pillow in a fetal position. Her thumb went to her mouth, soft snuffling noises replacing the sobbing from earlier, as if she were too worn out to manage more.

  Catherine looked at Caleb, pity filling her eyes with tears.

  Caleb’s own throat locked suddenly, and they stood there under a cloud of knowledge that there was nothing they could do to take the child’s pain away. And yet, he knew, too, he was the one responsible for it.

  In a few moments, the snuffling eased, and Grace’s eyes closed. Noah dropped to the floor beside the bed, clearly intent on standing guard until she woke again.

  Catherine pointed at the hallway and they quietly left the room, leaving the door cracked so they could hear her if she called out.

  Downstairs, Caleb went to the window and looked out across the yard. “I’m sorry to put you through this, Mom.”

  “She’s heartbroken, Caleb.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, grappling for his own belief in what he was about to say. “Things will get better. Everything is new.”

  Catherine moved to the window beside him, pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. “Do you really think this is what Laney would have wanted, son?” she asked, her voice low and hushed. “That child is innocent. More a victim than any of us. Her life has just been torn apart. It seems so unfair, Caleb.”

  He said nothing. He couldn’t deny the truth behind her words.

  “Caleb?” His mother put a hand on his arm. “I know you’ve wanted someone to pay for what happened to Laney. God knows we all did. But please don’t let it be this child. Promise me that.”

  Caleb stepped back as if she had just slapped him. “Is that what you think?”

  “By taking that little girl from the only mother she has ever known, you are punishing her, whether you mean to or not.”

  Caleb flinched, then ran a hand across his face. “So you’ve teamed up with Dad now, huh?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “What is?” he asked.

  “Caleb—”

  “Maybe you should go, Mom,” he said and turned away from her.

  Long after she had disappeared down the gravel drive, he felt the sting of his mother’s words. He went upstairs and looked in on Grace, finding her curled up in the same position asleep, Noah still on the floor beside her.

  Back downstairs, he went from kitchen to living room, creating things to do that didn’t need doing. His mother’s accusation, however well-meant, had hit some sensitive spot inside him. Was he looking for someone to punish? Had he picked this child as his target?

  Was he doing this for himself after all? On some level, had he grouped this little girl into the same category as the man who had taken his wife’s life?

  It was an ugly thought, and Caleb shied from it, certain only that he would never consciously hurt Grace.

  But God help him if he ever laid even an ounce of his own need for revenge at the feet of that child.

  God help him.

  FOR AN HOUR AFTER the social worker had left with Grace, Sophie put herself on autopilot. Placed the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, dumped the coffee grounds, set the trash out back. With every motion, her arms and legs grew heavier until she finally forced herself up the stairs, her steps like that of an old woman.

  The phone rang, Darcy’s cell number flashing on caller ID. She ha
d called the day before to say her grandmother had died. She and Neal had driven to Tennessee that night to help with the funeral arrangements, Darcy upset that she could not be there for Sophie.

  Sophie let the phone ring, certain she could not bring herself to talk about what had happened this morning.

  She collapsed, instead, onto her unmade bed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing for some switch to pull within herself that would stop the pain gnawing away at her.

  There were sleeping pills in the medicine cabinet, a prescription written for her after some minor surgery a few years ago when she’d been unable to sleep. The bottle beckoned now like a light at the end of a pitch dark road. She pictured exactly where it was on the shelf, behind the bottle of Centrum vitamins.

  What would it hurt to take one?

  If she could have just an hour without this awful pain, one hour, maybe she could begin to think clearly again. She got up and went into the bathroom, opened the cabinet door, reached for the bottle and stared at it.

  She turned the lid, tipped the edge to the palm of her hand and shook out one tablet. The ache inside her was so all-encompassing that the pill felt like a single raindrop hitting parched earth. She shook out another.

  She reached for the glass by the sink, then turned on the tap and tossed the pills to the back of her throat.

  GRACE SLEPT FOR SEVERAL HOURS.

  Caleb stuck his head in her room, saw that she was awake, but curled up in a ball still, thumb in her mouth, tears sliding from the corners of her eyes.

  He stood as if glued to the wood floor, immobilized by his own ineptitude. Her body language alone said, Stay there, I don’t want you to come closer. So he stayed where he was. “Grace?”

  She shook her head and continued to look at the pillow, as if his voice were more than she could handle. He stepped back. Noah stayed at the door beside him. “I know you must be very sad right now. But everything will be all right. Will you believe me on that?”

  She didn’t raise her eyes from the pillowcase. “Mama,” she said.