by Mary Manners
“I was thinking we’d have a huge gala event at Mount Ridge Farms, maybe breathe a little life back into the place. What do you think?”
“I’ll help you, Brent, with whatever you need.” Grace squeezed his hand. “Count me in, OK?”
“OK.” He nodded, but his chest clenched at her words. The help he needed wasn’t even on her radar. Her vision was still eclipsed by Dan. Would she ever lay that memory to rest and see him?
Brent leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms as he listened to Adam hum a tune while he stacked Legos on the table behind them. The child tugged at him in a way he couldn’t explain. And Grace…well…he’d loved her for as long as he could remember.
“When do you want to get together to…um…plan things out?” Grace asked.
“How about we talk over dinner tomorrow night?”
“That will work.” She nodded. “Tessa will be home from classes for the weekend. She’s been asking to spend a little time with Adam. I’ll phone her this afternoon to confirm.”
“Six o’clock, then?”
Grace nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
Grace's Gold
2
The sound of running bathwater soothed as Grace squirted a healthy dose of bubble bath beneath the spigot and then helped Adam into the tub. He slipped into the warm water, giggling as the bubbles engulfed him. “Mama, Jimmy has a little brother.”
Grace chuckled and splashed water over Adam’s head before massaging shampoo into his hair. “Is that right?”
He peeked at her over the side of the bathtub, his blue eyes round and wide and defined by thick, charcoal-black lashes. “Why can’t I have a brother, too?”
“It’s not that easy, honey.” She snagged the bubbles that clung to Adam’s chin. “I can’t just get a little brother for you.”
“But people come into the bakery and want a cupcake, and you get one for them. Can’t you get me a brother, too?”
Grace sighed and thought of her sister, Kate. She’d burst into the bakery late that afternoon with cool late September air clinging to her cardigan as sunlight dipped low on the horizon.
“Grace…oh, oh, oh.” The staccato burst was coupled with a little dance and a smile that lit up her almond-shaped green eyes framed by generous waves of long cinnamon hair. “I mean, Auntie Grace.”
“Kate. Oh, I thought so!” Grace rushed to embrace her. Tears and well-wishes followed. “When?”
“It’s going to be a spring baby.” She clasped a hand over her belly in a protective gesture as tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Logan is over the moon. He’s down at the construction site spreading the word. He’s going to make an amazing daddy.”
“Yes, he will.” Though overjoyed for her sister, Grace couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness. Dan was gone three years now, and the loss of her husband still filled her with an odd mixture of sadness and relief. She’d been so young—they’d both been young—when Adam was born. And they’d both been so foolish to rush into something that was destined to wreck just because they were both running from something else.
Yet she had Adam, the most precious of miracles. And because of him, she wouldn’t change a thing.
“We need to celebrate.”
“I heard you tried a new recipe.” Kate smacked her lips and peered over the pastry display. “And that it’s positively delicious.”
“Yes.” Grace nodded. “Gold cake.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Kate gathered two dessert plates from the display stand along with a couple of plastic forks. “Cut a few slices while I pour some decaf coffee and we can sit for a bit. Don’t be stingy with the portions—I’m famished.”
Grace laughed at the memory as bathwater splashed over the tub and splattered her shoes. She sighed as she turned her attention back to Adam.
“What are you drawing, honey?” He had one of the washable crayons Brent had given him in each hand and had scribbled a pair of stick figures on the bathtub wall.
“It’s a brother, Mama…and a dog, too.”
“Oh, Adam.” She handed him the rest of the crayons. “I would have to be married to get you a brother.”
“Why, Mama?”
“Because.” The single word was barely sufficient, she knew. But it would have to do. She knelt beside the tub and checked his ears for lingering grime. “And I don’t have any plans to get married again.”
“Why not?” He wiggled his nose as his blue eyes narrowed.
Grace shrugged, because she couldn’t summon the words to explain. Why not indeed? Maybe because her time with Dan had morphed into a disaster, and she couldn’t bear the thought of loving someone…and enduring such a devastating loss…again. She dipped her hand into the warm, bubbly water to find the wash cloth and then handed it to Adam. “Scrub your neck and behind your ears.”
“OK, Mama.” He rubbed the bubbles from his chin and attacked the dirt ring that clung to his neck. “But you didn’t answer my question.”
She thought of the conflicted feelings she’d had during the months following Dan’s funeral. She’d loved him…yes. At least she’d loved him the best any barely eighteen-year-old girl could love. But it wasn’t enough. She’d watched him give up his dream of a scholarship, an education—of sports fame and the life he’d worked so hard for—for her and Adam. And it had ended in a devastating accident. Some days, the guilt consumed her. “It’s complicated.”
“Like telling time and countin’ to a hundred?” Adam’s arms splayed wide. “And scorin’ a goal in soccer?”
“Kind of.”
“Mr. Brent taught me how to kick a goal.”
“He did?” Brent had walked Adam to the park after they built a castle of Legos. Though an unseasonable early autumn chill nipped at them, the two had bundled up and spent the rest of the afternoon kicking a soccer ball through the grass and skipping countless rocks at the duck pond. Upon their return to the bakery, Adam had chattered non-stop about their adventures.
“Yeah, Mama. Mr. Brent knows a lot about soccer. Maybe he can get me a brother, too.”
Grace sputtered, coughed. She busied herself rinsing the shampoo from Adam’s hair.
Brent…she’d hurt him when she’d eloped with Dan. She’d hurt everyone—Mattie, Kate and Tessa, included. But she felt she had no other option at the time. Her parents were gone, and Adam was growing inside her. So she did what she had to do to try to make things right.
“Maybe if you practice it won’t be so com-compli—” he scrunched his nose—“hard, Mama. That’s what Mr. Brent told me about scorin’ goals.”
She shook her head at his innocence. If only it was so simple. She pointed to his feet. “Scrub between your toes, too.”
“But it tickles, Mama.” He wiggled heat-pinked feet and bubbles drifted into the air.
“I know.” She kissed the crown of his damp hair and the sweet scent of apple shampoo clung to him. Soon, he would outgrow bubbles and bath crayons and tear-free shampoo. The realization shot a stab of sadness through Grace. “Oh, you smell good enough to gobble up!”
“Oh, Mama.” He squealed and squirmed from her, and bathwater drenched her blouse and splashed the floor. “Can Mr. Brent come watch me play soccer on Saturday?”
“I don’t know.” She reached for a towel and brushed water from her cheeks. “Logan and Auntie Kate will be there while Aunt Tessa and Aunt Mattie run the bakery.”
“But I want Mr. Brent, too.”
“Brent’s very busy, honey.”
“He said he’d come. I asked him.” He gazed at her with eyes that held all the innocence of a five year old.
“Then he’ll be there, I’m sure.”
“I hope so, Mama.” The set of his jaw reminded her of Dan, yet her thoughts drifted to Brent. “He promised.”
“C’mon and dry off now.” Grace held the bath towel open like a fluffy cape. “It’s time for a story and bed. You have school tomorrow.”
****
“Here’s money f
or pizza, Tess.” Grace plopped a twenty dollar bill onto the kitchen counter. “And here are a few movies Adam chose from the video store, in case he gets tired of playing outside.”
“That’ll never happen.” Tessa rolled her eyes. “You know how the kid loves romping through the great outdoors.”
“Yes, I do.” Grace gazed at Adam through the kitchen window as he made an assault on the expansive wooden play set Brent had installed just a few months ago, with Logan’s help. He chased his shadow from the swings to the slide and up a climbing wall, then back again, his war-whoops a shriek on the cool, early autumn breeze. “But it looks like it might rain.”
Angry clouds marred the horizon, thick as dirtied lambs’ wool. The temperature grew chillier with each passing hour. Grace wished warm weather would pitch its tent for good and chase away the cool air. She reached for her pocket umbrella and a rain jacket, just in case.
“No worries, Grace. It’s supposed to clear up.” Tessa followed her into the backyard. “Besides, I’ve got things under control. You have fun, and don’t worry about a thing.”
“I know everything will be fine.” She sighed. “I just feel a little…jumpy.”
“Hmmm…I wonder why?” Tessa gathered her walnut-colored waves into a ponytail and secured it with an elastic band. “Maybe it has something to do with a certain Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t tell me you still haven’t figured it out.” Tessa scowled. “Boy, Grace, you are dense.”
Grace frowned and adjusted her purse strap over one shoulder. “Well, aren’t you full of glad tidings?”
“Just stating the obvious.” Tessa tugged at the front seam of her jacket and zipped. “But since you seem to need one…here’s a clue: Brent’s over the moon for you, sis.”
“No.” Grace drew a sharp breath and shook her head. “He can’t be.”
“Why not?”
“Because…well, just because.”
“Too late for that lame excuse.” Tessa dipped her head toward the house. “Here he comes.”
“Hey, Grace.” Brent rounded the corner. At the sight of him, Adam leapt from the swing to rush over. Brent caught Adam and twirled him around until he squealed, and then set him on the grass, breathless. “Boy, that’s some greeting, champ.”
Tessa nodded, her gaze twinkling with mischief. “Exhibit A,” she murmured to Grace, crossing her arms. “A fine specimen, don’t you think?”
Grace pressed a finger to her lips to silence her sister, yet she couldn’t deny the way her belly did a little dance of its own at the sight of Brent clad in pressed khakis and a navy polo shirt, his coffee-hued hair still a bit damp from the shower. The scent of aftershave lingered on a slight breeze that kissed her cheeks…something clean and spicy.
“Wanna watch me swing, Mr. Brent?” Adam tugged on Brent’s shirt. “I can fly!”
“Not now,” Grace began, but Brent shook his head ever-so-slightly and then knelt and drew Adam close.
“Always time to watch a good swing.” He winked. “Have at it, champ.”
“Yeah. Watch me, Mr. Brent!” Adam whooped across the grass and catapulted himself into the swing. His little legs pumped so hard Grace thought they might fly off.
“Wow, look at you go.” Brent whistled. “That’s great, Adam.”
“It’s too high.” Grace took a step forward, but Brent held up a hand. “He’s fine. You don’t need to worry. Logan and I built that set rock solid.”
“But what if—”
“Give it a rest, Grace,” Tessa chimed in. “He’s a boy.”
“Oh?” She turned to face her sister. “And what do you know about raising a boy?”
“I know you’re doing your best to wimpify him.”
“Wimpify?” Grace propped her hands on her hips and frowned. “Is that some new college dorm-room language?”
“No.” Tessa laughed. “Just stating the facts. Let him scrape a knee or two. He’ll be fine.”
Grace cringed. The words echoed Dan’s the morning of his accident, as he’d left to help construct the roof of a high-rise hotel in Knoxville. He was irritated with her, frustrated that she fretted over him, and his voice held a hint of disgust.
“It’s just a little wind, Grace. You worry too much. I’ll be fine.”
The door slammed behind him, startling her into a guilt-ridden funk. But her fears were warranted—he hadn’t been fine. Though the wind gusted, he’d refused to wear a safety harness. Pride came before the fall—literally.
“Come on, Grace.” Brent stepped between her and Tessa before the discussion grew into something more. He reached for Grace’s hand, and called to Adam. “Nice job, champ! You really can fly. Be good for Aunt Tessa while I take your mom to dinner, OK?”
“Yes, sir!” Adam’s leapt from the swing and landed on his knees. Unfazed, he scrambled to his feet and attacked the climbing wall.
“See you tomorrow morning at the soccer field.”
Brent squeezed Grace’s hand and led her across the lawn and down the walk to the driveway. The sun dipped low on the horizon, leaving a slight breeze to chill Grace’s cheeks.
“You know, Brent, you don’t have to come to Adam’s soccer game,” she said as they made their way to Brent’s black, extended-cab truck. “It’s an early game, and it’s supposed to be miserably cold and rainy.”
“So the forecasters predict.” He opened the passenger door for her. “But the sky looks like it’s clearing already. Besides, the threat of rain doesn’t amount to a hill of beans. I want to come to Adam’s game.”
“Oh?” She slid in, and then waited while he crossed to the driver’s side and settled in beside her. “Why?”
His key ring jangled as he jiggled a key into the ignition. “What do you mean?”
Grace fastened her seatbelt. “Why do you want to come to the soccer game at the crack of dawn and sit in the rain to watch five-year-olds scramble like uncoordinated puppies up and down a muddy field?”
Her question seemed to catch him off guard, and he glanced through the windshield as he cranked the engine. “I don’t mind the rain.” Adam’s squeals of delight drifted over the purr of the motor. “I like soccer, and I love your son, Grace.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What’s there to understand?”
“I just…” She fidgeted and twisted the seatbelt strap that bit into her shoulder. This feeling was so new, so…unsettling, like a fleet of stunt planes dive-bombing her belly. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what’s going on here.”
“We’re going to dinner, and discussing some fundraising ideas to support program expansions for the crisis center.”
“And that’s all?”
“I don’t know.” He gripped the steering wheel with both hands, and his knuckles whitened. “Is that all you want, Grace?”
Is it? Her breathing quickened and she ran a hand through her hair, twisting a sleek strand around one finger. She bit her lower lip and pressed a hand to her belly. “I…yes, that’s all, Brent.”
“Oh, my sweet, sweet Grace.” He sighed and shifted the car into drive. Gravel crunched beneath the wheels. “Let’s take a drive before dinner. There’s something I want to show you.”
Grace's Gold
3
“Brent, it’s beautiful.” Waning sunlight danced across the creek that rushed over boulders worn smooth and shiny from centuries of standing sentinel in the rapids. The trees beyond glowed with the first hints of orange and red as they eased into peak color along the water’s edge. Their scent lingered on the night breeze, rich and musky. “I remember coming here…with you.”
“In the height of summer, when the humidity grew so thick we could barely breathe.” His voice was little more than a murmur as he switched off the car’s ignition. “We brought the horses…and some tubes your parents bought for us down at the home improvement store.”
“Yes.” After a hard rain, they liked to ride to the hea
d of the creek together on horses from the stable Brent’s parents owned. They’d plunge right in, and the rushing water was a shock of cold on Grace’s flushed skin as they tubed down the creek, squealing when the flow picked up and raced downstream. The speed gave her a rush of adrenaline, yet she felt safe with Brent at her side. She knew nothing bad would ever happen to her while she was with him, and she sensed his desire to protect her from early on.
“Your mom would pack peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for us in double-wrapped plastic bags, and we’d stop at the giant boulder to eat and sunbathe.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“You’d weave your hair into braids,” Brent continued. “And prop those huge horn-rimmed sunglasses on your nose.”
Grace groaned. “Ugh, I was hoping you’d forgotten about that. I was gawky and…homely.”
Brent shook his head. “Maybe the glasses, but not you. Never you, Grace.”
The second leg of the trip, with their bellies full, was mostly spent lying back in the sun-parched tubes while sunlight warmed their faces as they drifted downstream.
There was plenty of splashing…and lots of laughter. And sometimes Brent told wild stories that made her squeal so hard she thought her sides would split wide open. But more often than not, especially as they grew older, Brent simply reached across the cool water to twine his fingers with hers while the melody of the rushing water lulled them into a comfortable silence.
“What happened to all the horses?” Grace asked. “After your dad left for good?”
Brent sighed and brushed a palm across the thigh of his khakis. “Mom tried to hold on to the business. She kept travelling for a while, still showing a few of the horses, but it just wasn’t the same without Dad here to help. Eventually she found an interested buyer who flashed the right amount of cash, and Mom just sold them all.”
“But the one you ride now, that sleek black stallion?”
“Rocky. I adopted him and Rachel from a rescue team last year, and trained them myself. It took some work, and they’re as different from each other as night is from day. But they’re both great horses.”