Where Grace Appears

by Heidi Chiavaroli

  “Okay, I’ll try. I promise.” I stepped away, tucked my arms around myself, and looked out toward Curtis Island, the lighthouse white and picturesque at the point of the island, the keeper’s house beside it. Tripp and I had kayaked around Curtis Island countless times as teens. I could still remember him playing chicken with the schooners, making the boaters raise their fists while we rowed madly out of danger, him laughing and me screeching the entire time. “You think she doesn’t want to sell the orchard? I don’t really see how we can help. Unless…” Slow as clumpy porridge, an idea began to form. Us helping Aunt Pris. Her helping us. But no, it was crazy. She’d never agree. Mom would never agree. “What if…?”

  I sat beside Tripp on the bench, my thoughts racing, trying to keep up with the implications of such a hare-brained scheme.

  “What if what?” Tripp slid farther over on the bench as if too scared to get close, too scared he’d frighten me away.

  I shook my head. “Never mind. It’s ridiculous. Too much good food and Pictionary.”

  “Tell me, Josie.” He now moved closer, not showing any hesitation as he had a moment earlier. It wouldn’t have been the first time I read him wrong.

  He pulled my hand onto his lap and it felt so natural, so good and right. It was big and warm and strong and capable, and if I wasn’t careful I could fall right into its pull, let it lead my heart to places it didn’t belong—places I knew, from experience, only caused pain. Even if I’d never truly been in love with Finn, he’d left a gaping hole within me. It wouldn’t be fair to allow Tripp to fill it now, when it was convenient.

  I slid my hand from his. “It’s probably the craziest idea I’ve ever come up with.”

  “Crazier than hanging two-thousand candy canes in one night?”

  I smiled at his reference to our all-night Christmas Eve endeavor the summer of my junior year. I’d wanted to give a little magic to the town children, so I’d bulk ordered the special treats online and we’d sneaked around frost-covered yards to hang candy canes on trees and fence posts and porch rails of as many homes of young children in Camden as we could. Tripp had been a trooper that night. Though the idea was mine, I’d become tired and cranky sooner than I’d anticipated. As always, he’d been the one to push us through.

  I’d always been one for brilliant, heartfelt ideas. The passion to see them through was sometimes the problem.

  Was this idea brewing in my head just another thing I’d grow cold on? I looked at the man beside me, noticed how his shoulders and arms looked broader than they had at Christmas. He’d been working out, and he looked good. Did he go on many dates? Was he seeing someone special?

  The thought threw a wrench of unwanted jealousy into my stomach. I was horrid. I turned down Tripp’s offer of marriage, but still wanted him to pine away for me forever. How absurd.

  “Come on, Josie. You have to tell me now.”

  Tripp at least would be truthful. He’d tell me if my idea had any merit.

  “What if we—my family—moved in with Aunt Pris?”

  Tripp blinked. “Did I miss the invitation?”

  I stood, shook my head. “It’s crazy, forget I said anything.”

  He caught my hand, pulled me back down on the bench. “No, I want to hear it. Your crazy ideas are sometimes your best.”

  I dragged in a deep breath, sat straighter to summon the courage to spill my thoughts. The faint scent of honeysuckle teased my nostrils, propelling me forward. “What if I asked Aunt Pris if we could turn that gorgeous home of hers into a bed and breakfast?”

  He didn’t speak, and I thought to cast the idea aside, but something within me grabbed onto the notion all the more now that I’d spoken it aloud. “We could move in, help her with the day-to-day things she wanted to hire someone for. She wouldn’t have to sell her orchard. Mom would get her B&B.”

  Tripp shook his head, and my heart deflated. Of course it was stupid. As usual, I had gotten lost in the moment, carried away with myself.

  “Living under one roof with the old girl? I don’t know, Josie. I’m not sure either Aunt Pris or your Mom would agree. And what about the house? Your house. Can you picture your Mom just up and leaving it after all those years there with your Dad?”

  “Mom already asked Aunt Pris to live with us once after she fell a couple winters ago, remember? So although it’d be hard, Mom’s open to helping her out. And she has already talked about selling the house with Maggie when they were trying to brainstorm how to make a B&B feasible. If Mom sold the house, she’d have plenty of startup money.”

  “Aunt Pris’s place would make a great inn.” Tripp spoke with a slow pause between each of his words. “But it would need a lot of work, some updating. Individual bathrooms to the upstairs rooms, a remodeled kitchen…I suppose those would be the major things. But what about her bookshop? Your mom seemed excited.”

  “That was Dad’s dream, not hers. And though its sweet of her to honor his memory, I think it’s time for her to do what’s on her heart. She’s always telling us God gives us gifts and dreams for a reason. Why is it right for her to ignore hers?”

  Tripp nodded, stared at the ground at our feet. I could practically see his thoughts racing, maybe faster than mine. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be either or.”

  “A B&B and a bookshop? Now you’re making me tired.”

  “A bookshop as part of the B&B. A gift shop kind of thing.”

  I gripped his forearm. “Tripp Colton, you’re brilliant. Mom always wanted a book-inspired bed and breakfast, so a bookshop makes sense.”

  I could feel myself flying away with the idea, but didn’t want to bother reining myself in. “I could help her with it, of course. I know what kind of books people like, what they’re more likely to buy on vacation. She had these amazing ideas for rooms in that scrapbook of hers. We could even have small sections in the bookshop that corresponded with each guest room. Maybe recipe books, too. Mom has some great ones. I could help her put together—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Not that I’m not loving the idea of you hanging around to put all this together, but don’t you have a degree to earn? A life, you know, in New York?”

  Something in me deflated. A life. Right. A degree. Plans to succeed, to make a difference.

  But Tripp didn’t know my secret. The tiny baby growing in my belly changed everything. Did I really plan to go back to school in September only to have a baby in October? And yet if I decided to give the child over for adoption, the time out of school could be minimal. But was that what I wanted to do?

  I groaned, rubbed a hand over my face. “The idea doesn’t hinge on my presence. Mom could do this. She could.”

  “There’s a lot the idea hinges on. It’s a good one, Josie, it is. And your heart is good for it, but what if your mom isn’t comfortable with it? What if Aunt Pris doesn’t want her home turned into a B&B? What if she doesn’t want people coming and going as they please on her property? That’s a big change for a stubborn woman.”

  “You’re right. That’s a huge ask, especially for her.”

  “You have an enormous heart. Nothing wrong with that.” He caught my gaze and my heart tripped over itself. I felt his unasked question, and it speared something deep within me.

  Why wasn’t it big enough for me?

  For so long, I couldn’t think of Tripp as more than my best friend. But this time apart, my time with Finn even, had me reevaluating every decision from last summer onward. I’d been so sure I didn’t need a man or marriage until after I established a steady career. And I was right, wasn’t I? I didn’t need a man. Especially one that turned out like Finn Becker. There were lots of brave, smart, single mothers out there, and if I didn’t give my baby away, that’s what I would be. Brave. Smart. Alone.

  It was okay.

  I watched a sailboat make its way lazily around Curtis Island, the white of its mast caught in the haze of the sea. “I need to talk with Aunt Pris before I do anything else. Or maybe Mom, just to make sure this is st
ill something she wants—that she would be open to running it on Aunt Pris’s property.”

  “I agree.”

  I turned to him. “Will you come with me? When I talk to Aunt Pris?”

  “Josie, I don’t—”

  “She likes you. She’ll respect what you say.”

  “Enough to turn her house over to your mother and all your siblings, to allow contractors to reinvent her home?”

  “So you don’t think I should even ask her?”

  He pressed his lips together, making the creases on his cheeks deepen. “I didn’t say that. I think she’s a lonely lady, maybe a lady with some regrets. And there’s no denying she holds a soft spot in that cranky heart for you and your siblings, even if she has a funny way of showing it sometimes. Who knows, she just might surprise you by agreeing to this. She’s probably already willed the estate to your family. Maybe she’ll want to be a part of this next chapter before she’s gone.”

  “See, Tripp? This is why I need you to come with me. You’ll help her see reason. You have a way with words when you want to.”

  He raised an eyebrow at me. “Despite my choice in literature, you mean?”

  I grinned. “That’s right, Captain.”

  “Fine,” he ground out. “I’ll go.”

  I placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

  His gaze dropped to my hand, and I stared at my fingers on his bare arm a moment. “I’ve missed you, Josie. I’ve missed this. Us.”

  “Me too,” I whispered.

  I took my hand from his arm, and we sat in silence for a few moments before I couldn’t stand the wall between us anymore. “Why’d you do it, Tripp? Why’d you have to go and ask me to marry you like that? Out of the blue, practically?”

  He spread his legs out, leaned his elbows on his thighs, hands folded in front of him. “Remember when I kissed you that day?”

  My face heated at the memory. It’d been a month after Dad’s funeral. I’d gone for a long run and ended up here, on this very bench, to have a good cry. Tripp found me, simply sat on the bench and put an arm around me, allowed his shirt to dry my tears.

  It was the first time anyone had seen me cry over Dad, and it felt good to release it all, felt good to feel my best friend’s strong arms around me. I’d smelled of sweat and salt from my run, but Tripp didn’t seem to care. He let me wipe my tears on his button-down, collared shirt. Then, he’d kissed me. And I let him. And while it was as wonderful as it was weird, when we’d parted I’d told him to never do that again.

  “Yes, of course,” I said now, my face heating at the memory.

  “You didn’t understand what that kiss meant for me. You didn’t take it seriously.”

  I swallowed. “I was hurting. You were comforting. We got carried away in the moment.”

  “It was more than that for me. I wanted you to know I wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted you to know how serious I was about loving you for the rest of my life.”

  “Tripp, stop. Please.”

  “You asked.” He leaned back against the hard bench. “I know you, Josie. You were going to brush that kiss off, but I couldn’t. I knew you’d be gone to graduate school for months at a time. I knew you were grieving your Dad hard, then Maggie getting married. I knew you were restless, anxious to escape. I was scared you’d do something you’d regret. I was scared to lose you. So I threw it all on the table and asked you to marry me. It wasn’t a surprise, not to me. We had to have it out, one way or the other. I’ve always loved you, Josie Martin.”

  My bottom lip trembled. “But you ruined us. I lost my father and Maggie and you all in one summer.” And I did go off to New York, did things I regretted. I closed my eyes in defeat.

  “There was no part of you that could ever love me?”

  His innocent question threatened to break me in two. “I do love you. You’re my best friend.”

  He shook his head, hard. “No, that’s not what I mean, and you know it. I mean like a woman loves a man, Josie. Could you ever love me like that?”

  “I can’t believe we’re back to this again.”

  He stood, flung up a hand in frustration. “Did we ever get past it? You just left, wouldn’t return my texts or calls.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know what to say to you. Tripp, it wasn’t you. It was the idea of marriage in general. I had too many plans, too many great things to accomplish first.” Even as I spoke the words, I felt their untruths. For when I’d come to Finn, told him about his unborn child, I’d vowed to make things right. To accept a proposal of marriage even, if it came. I thought a baby would change Finn’s views, that he’d eventually see reason and put things straight.

  But he never had.

  “I’m not the same person I was last summer.” I lifted my head. “But I don’t want to lose your friendship. I never wanted to lose your friendship.”

  He hung his head for a moment, then lifted it to give me a sad grin. “As painful as it is, I’d rather have you my friend than not at all.” He held his hand out to me, and I took it so he could help me stand.

  “Thank you.” I squeezed his hand. “Because I’ve missed you.”

  He smiled but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

  I wiggled his fingers. “Who else but me can pick on your terrible choices in literature?”

  He shook his head. “Touché.” We started back down the path toward the street. “So when do you want to go talk to your aunt?”

  “I have to talk to Mom first. Tonight maybe. Can I let you know how it goes?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, Tripp.”

  I stepped over a root, following Tripp’s boat shoes through the path, grateful for his company, grateful for his presence in my life.

  Even if I wanted our relationship to go in a romantic direction, even if he didn’t totally hate me for sleeping with another man and having his baby—which I was quite sure he would—I’d forever be questioning my motives. Tripp was the safe choice, the secure choice—a man too good to be a last resort. And I was too wretched a person to think, or hope, that he would ever give me a second chance after finding out the truth.

  Whether or not I should have agreed to his proposal last summer was neither here nor there. None of it mattered any longer. Tripp deserved so much better.

  So much more than Josie Martin had to offer.

  7

  Professor Finn Becker was a logical man. And tears were just not logical.

  At least not now, as he lay in his king-size bed alongside a beautiful young blonde. Emily. Apparently she wasn’t the answer to stopping the tears that made a nightly appearance in the middle of his dreams.

  He pushed the bed sheets off his legs, their weight suddenly unbearable. He sat up, listened to Emily’s deep breaths. They’d drank enough wine before—and during—their arduous physical activities to ensure they’d both sleep well.

  At least that’s what Finn had thought.

  He stood, tugged on a pair of gym shorts. This wasn’t him. Sleeping with students. This wasn’t what he’d set out to do, who he’d set out to become. And the tears? Those definitely weren’t him.

  He exited his bedroom, closing the door softly so Emily would sleep. In the kitchen, he pushed the button on his Keurig. Might as well get something accomplished while he was awake.

  He opened his laptop and sat at his office chair. A pile of papers from his summer class needed grading—far better use of his time than weeping like a little girl in his bed.

  He ran a hand over his face, the week-old growth unfamiliar. He’d thought he needed a change. A little less clean-cut college professor and a little more cutting-edge adventurer.

  Without warning, an image of Josie popped into his head. She had a habit of running the back of her fingers along his smooth face, and for just a split second, he missed her with a tenacity that pulled at his gut. In some mysterious way, he knew she was connected to the middle-of-the-night tears that had begun waking him almost a month earlie
r.

  A gorgeous distraction like Emily should have been enough to kick such wayward emotions to the curb. But apparently his psyche was more bothered by how he’d left things with Josie than he’d realized.

  And then there was the voice. Saints alive, he was actually starting to hear voices. Him, the psychology professor. He was cracking up.

  To be fair, it wasn’t a voice out of nowhere. As familiar as it was unwelcoming, they were words he’d memorized as a child but had long since set aside.

  Even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed.

  Perfect love drives out fear…

  No use pushing it aside any longer—the problem was his conscience. He felt guilty for abandoning Josie. Amos’s daughter. No doubt, his inner self was taking on Amos’s own convictions and faith, drawing on the faith Finn himself had been raised in, in order to make him feel guilt. Truly, the human mind was so intricate, it would go to great lengths to fool him, going so far as to use words from an ancient book he himself had deemed unreliable. An ancient book fraught with racism and sexism—a cause for division instead of unity. Religion was, as Freud himself put it, an attempt to control the uncontrollable world in which one was placed by means of make-believe ideals. But it would always fail, because the Bible hung on a culture of a different time. It didn’t take into account the progression of humanity.

  What then was this feeling within him? If at the root of the human psyche was self-preservation and self-interest, how would feeling guilty about Josie help him?

  The Keurig fizzed and sputtered, and he went back to the kitchen, replacing the scent of guilt with that of strong coffee. Josie was a grown woman, an adult. They’d been responsible in using protection. She was the one who insisted she didn’t want an abortion. What choice did she leave him? In all his thirty-nine years, his plans had never included being a father. Never had he wanted to be tied down that much. All Josie had to do was make an appointment. He would have gone with her, held her hand. Then it would have been over, done with, and they could have gone on with their lives.