Where Grace Appears

by Heidi Chiavaroli

  His guarded eyes lay shadowed in defeat. “Then you don’t love me?”

  “I do. I truly do.”

  And then his warm mouth covered my own, lingering, tasting in a way that produced a thundering heat in my limbs. If I were honest, I could admit to having fantasized about such a kiss on occasion. But never had I imagined the depth of force it created within me. The world spun, turning itself upside down. Tripp was my best friend, not someone who was supposed to make my knees weak. Not someone who was supposed to kiss like that.

  I felt his passion grow as he moved in deeper, pulling me closer against his muscled chest, and Lord help me, I wanted him. I wanted to love him.

  And if it didn’t mean entirely losing myself to do so, I would have. But I couldn’t. I had to be strong.

  So I’d pulled away, refusing to let myself get lost in a man.

  “Please, never do that again.”

  His dazed look appeared still half caught up in our kiss. He shook his head. “What?”

  “Tripp, I’m so sorry. I do love you, but I can’t marry you.”

  “Josie, you don’t kiss a man like that and then throw his proposal out with last night’s garbage.”

  “You kissed me.”

  “And you liked it.”

  I closed my eyes, breathed deep. “That doesn’t have anything to do with anything.”

  He threw up his hands. “It has everything to do with everything!”

  “So I should dictate my life on pure emotion, then? On the temptation of sex?”

  He bunched his fists at his side. “Is that the only thing you think I want you for? Sex? Josie Martin, I consider myself a humble man, but let me tell you, there’s more than one woman in this town who would stoop to having sex with me.”

  I straightened, my anger matching his. How dare he send us spiraling in this direction, how dare he kiss me. And how dare I allow my own feelings to spiral out of control. “Then maybe you should go find one of them!”

  He grabbed my arms again. “I don’t want any of them. Josie, my Josie…I want you and only you.”

  I pushed back against his hands, but he refused to let go. I fought back the wetness pressing at my eyelids. “Tripp…look at us, we can’t even have a conversation about love without arguing.”

  “I know you love me. Why can’t you just admit it? Forget the proposal, even. Just tell me how you really feel about me.”

  I grew still, quiet, knowing my answer couldn’t change. Tripp was not a part of the future I’d created for myself. “I’m sorry.”

  He released me, and I stumbled backward. We stood there, like frozen statues in time. Had I led him on? Had he tried to show me his feelings in the past, but I’d written them off as simple friendship, as just Tripp being Tripp?

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “Don’t be angry. I simply can’t love you in that way.”

  “That’s bull, Josie. I know you…I know you.”

  He’d turned, walked away, and a part of me wanted to continue our fight just so he wouldn’t leave. I racked my brain for something to yell at his back, searched the ground for something to throw at him. He had no right to take our perfectly comfortable friendship and turn it into something else. He had no right to make me feel these things for him. Dad had died only months ago, Maggie was off with her new family, everything was changing, and I hated it.

  I watched his retreating back, and I let him go without another word.

  The next time I saw him was just a few weeks ago, on the day of Mom’s retirement party.

  Now, as he walked toward me, the wind whipping off the harbor and sweeping over the secluded steps of the amphitheater, I appreciated that we had gained back some of our easy friendship despite our time apart. He smiled as he drew closer and it, combined with the memories of that summer day, nearly melted my heart. If only I had responded differently all those months ago. If only I’d admitted my feelings. Maybe I would have stayed in Camden. Maybe I never would have gone out for that drink with Finn. Maybe I never would have cemented that jagged crack in my heart with all the wrong things.

  I straightened my spine and breathed deep, shaking off the memories and giving Tripp my full attention. “You look like you were down in the trenches today.”

  He dusted off his jeans, sending a plume of dirt through the air. “You could say that. What’s up?”

  I squinted up at him. “You probably already know what I need to talk to you about.”

  He lowered himself to the flat rock beside me. “I-uh, no, I’m not really sure.”

  “Tripp, the estimate? Mom’s not too happy with you.”

  A look of relief washed over his face. “Oh, the estimate. What doesn’t she like about it?”

  “The number. It’s low. Too low. What’d you do? She refuses to hire you if you’re purposely taking a loss for the sake of a neighbor.”

  “Who said anything about taking a loss?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t see how you can operate a job this big without making a profit.”

  “Hey now, we’re all about profit at Colton Contractors. This endeavor is only going to add to the charm of the town. We want to be a part of it. That’s profit for the town and for the business.”

  “Not enough to be worth your time, though. Give us another price, Tripp. We demand it.”

  He shook his head. “No can do.”

  “So you’d rather us go to another contractor?”

  “You aren’t that foolish. No one will do a better job than Colton Contractors, and you know it. Besides, I’m dying to get my hands on this renovation. Would you really deny me this?”

  I kicked my flip-flops off, planted my feet on the cool grass. “Mom said she was going to talk to your grandfather if you didn’t agree.”

  He chuckled. “Tell her good luck.”

  I groaned. “Fine, then. I’m leaving it in her hands to decide. If she decides to go with Stanley Construction…”

  Tripp made a look of pure disgust. “Charles Stanley is a lowlife who ogles your Mom every chance he gets. No chance in Hades I’m going to let that guy botch up this job.”

  I smiled at his profile, inhaled the spicy scent of him. “You really are a good guy, you know that? We’ll probably show Aunt Pris everything tomorrow. Pray for us, okay?”

  “Sure thing.” His face grew serious.

  “What’s wrong? I actually think Aunt Pris might go for all this.”

  “It’s not that. It’s nothing, really.” He shrugged. “I just heard something this morning. About you.”

  “Okay…”

  “I felt bad for even entertaining it, but you should probably know anyway.”

  Something clenched in my chest. The amphitheater swayed before me. “What should I know?”

  “There’s some sort of rumor going around about you. About us.”

  I expelled a long breath. “Like that’s anything new. People will talk, especially in a small town. Don’t let it get to you.”

  He grew quiet. Too quiet. Finally, “You’re right. But when Jenny Simcock congratulates me on being the father of your baby, it’s hard to suck it up and keep quiet.”

  “M-my baby?” I felt the color leach from my face. How had Jenny found out? Only Maggie knew, and my sister would suffer torture before betraying me, especially to the likes of the town gossip.

  I wasn’t ready for this. I planned to tell Mom tonight, my family soon after. But for the entire town to know? For Tripp to know? To have to face this on top of any heartbreak I’d already caused him?

  “Josie, say something.” He knelt in front of me, placed his hands on my bare knees, searched my eyes. “You’re not…”

  I pressed my lips together hard to keep from crying, to keep from speaking. If I never spoke again, Tripp would never have to know. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, Tripp’s hands dropped from my knees, and he sat back down on the grass, as if paralyzed.

  “You’re pregnant.”

  I inhaled deep. There was no use denyin
g it at this point. In another month or two my swollen abdomen would say more than I ever needed to. “I am.”

  “How—who?”

  “It was a long year,” I began.

  He cursed—an unfamiliar, ugly word on his lips. I couldn’t summon any fortitude to correct his ill manners. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  “The entire thing was a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake.”

  “A mistake? A mistake? The girl who could never give herself to a man…” He stood, raking his hand through his hair, a sound of pure frustration and anger erupting from him and echoing on the harbor. “You have to be kidding me. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  A tear slid down my cheek and for a moment I saw myself through his eyes and hated myself. I opened my mouth to make excuses—to tell him I was lonely, I was duped, that Finn seemed like everything I wanted for my life. But the words didn’t make it past my throat. What did it matter? What did any of it matter?

  “Where’s the father now? Does he know?”

  “He knows,” I whispered.

  “And?”

  “And nothing. I haven’t decided if I’m keeping the baby after it’s born.”

  Tripp paced in front of me, his anger and energy palpable, humming through the air between us. I sensed his gaze heavy on me, but I couldn’t meet it, didn’t want to witness the intense disappointment directed my way.

  “I can’t be here right now. I have to go.”

  I felt as if he were saying I can’t stand the sight of you.

  He turned, walked a few steps away from me, then turned back, the depth of hurt in his dark eyes searing me deep. “There really never was a chance for us, was there?”

  Even now, I couldn’t affirm his words, even if I should. If I said no, there had never been a chance for us, he’d probably be better off. Yes, it would hurt, but it would push him forward toward a new life, one that didn’t include me. But I couldn’t lie to him. Neither could I tell him how close I’d been to succumbing to his love that day last summer, how close I’d been many times since. For I’d given myself to another. What kind of a woman was so wishy-washy to think herself in love with two men?

  So I said the only heartfelt thing I could say. “I’m so sorry, Tripp.”

  And I was.

  Sorry for ever laying eyes on Finn Becker. Sorry for not believing Tripp’s love would be enough for me. Maybe I was even sorry for returning home, for breaking his heart all over again. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

  I watched his retreating back once again and curled myself over my belly. I’d never felt more alone. And now, half the town knew of my transgressions. I could only imagine the talk floating around….

  Poor Hannah, losing her husband at such a young age….

  Poor Martin kids, wearing their hand-me-down clothes….

  Poor Martin family, trying to start yet another project while raising a bastard of a child….

  Why did we want to stay in Camden anyway? Even if Aunt Pris would still give us a chance, maybe fate—or my own bad decisions—doomed us all to failure.

  15

  Someday, the pain would stop. Someday it would ease, dissipate from the massive sting of hurt clawing his insides—his very soul—to something far more manageable. Maybe a trickle, a pinprick of pain.

  Someday. But not today.

  Tripp careened into his grandfather’s drive, noting that neither Grandpop’s nor August’s vehicles were parked in the drive or the garage. Once inside, he took the stairs hard up to his bedroom where he changed into a pair of gym shorts, tore his shirt off, and threw it on his bed. By the time he entered the basement and donned his boxing gloves, he breathed heavy, could barely see past the red fury in his mind. He planted his feet on the ground and pounded out his frustration on the punching bag.

  One, two, three, four, hard and fast. Knuckles flush with the bag. One, two, three, four. No pain. No pain.

  If he kept telling himself that, would it be true?

  He rested his head against the bag, gave it some hard hooks, jabbing it over and over again until sweat poured down his face and chest, until he felt he might pass out from the exertion. And still, the pain clamored at his heart, shaking it with an intensity he’d never known.

  As much as he hated to admit it, he still held hope for him and Josie. He might be a fool, yes, but he simply couldn’t imagine loving another, couldn’t imagine them not being together. Who else could he laugh with, fight with, cry with, love with? Who else could he picture by his side into old age? Who else could he love enough to have his children?

  He let off an especially hard punch at that last thought, felt the bones of his knuckles explode, cracking with his anger and frustration. He swore, tore off the gloves, saw his knuckles bruised and red, the bones of his right hand seeming to be in the wrong place on his hands.

  He stumbled up the stairs and to the kitchen, grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the stainless steel freezer and plopped it onto his sweaty hand. He gulped down a glass of water, but it didn’t satiate the need within. He walked into the dining room, sought out Grandpop’s liquor cabinet. While Tripp indulged in an occasional beer or cocktail now and then, he usually stayed away from the hard stuff as a means to dull pain. But this afternoon, he couldn’t think of one good reason not to sulk with Jack Daniels.

  He took the bottle out, twisted off the cap, and poured himself a shot. And then another. He sat heavily at the dining room table, knowing his actions went against his convictions. He’d never been so weak. He was supposed to be holy and blameless.

  He thought of Josie again. Holy and blameless, his backside. Well, what was good enough for the goose, was good enough for the gander. He took another shot, felt the room spin, and pushed the bottle aside, soaked in the fog of oblivion.

  Who knew how much time passed, but from somewhere far away, the doorbell rang. He ignored it, but it wouldn’t stop. Then a persistent knock, louder and louder in his ears.

  He stumbled toward the door. If Josie stood on the other side, he didn’t think he’d be able to take it. And what would she say, seeing him like this? Then again, who really cared? Who gave a flying leap what one girl thought of him?

  “What do you want?” He wrenched open the door.

  “Tripp.” Ashley Robinson stood on his doorstep, fresh as a daisy in a summer dress that modestly highlighted her curves, a book in hand. If he’d had an elementary school teacher half as sweet as her, he might have done better in grade school. She shifted from one foot to the other. “I—I hope I’m not bothering you. I stopped by to leave this on the doorstep, but I saw your truck running. When you didn’t answer, I got worried.”

  His truck running? He peered around her into the drive where the door of his truck stood open, the engine idling. He hadn’t shut off his truck? How’d he get in the house, then? Had he used the key beneath the planter?

  He couldn’t remember. He put his arm above his head against the doorframe to steady himself. “Thanks. Thanks, Ashley. I’ll go get the keys in a minute.”

  He followed her gaze to his bare chest. A surge of desire pulsed through him. And why shouldn’t he feel such things? An image of Josie alone in the amphitheater flitted through his thoughts, but the alcohol held it at bay. Just a floating thought associated with a cloud of pain he no longer felt the need to claim as his own.

  Ashley shoved a book out to him. He tried to read the title, but the letters blurred.

  “I told you I’d let you borrow it at our last group session?”

  He shook his head, didn’t remember anything about a book. “I don’t really read. Josie makes fun of me for that.”

  “Okay…well, I guess I’ll go if you’re okay. Want me to grab your keys for you before I go?”

  “You want to come in?” He didn’t know what he said. But he knew Ashley liked him. Why not explore that? Why should he be so blindly faithful to a woman having another man’s baby?

  “Um, before I get your keys?”

  He shrugged.

&
nbsp; “Tripp, are you drunk?”

  “I had a couple of shots. Got some bad news today.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She walked to his truck, grabbed his keys, and came back. He lingered on the curves of her beneath that dress, felt his body responding to what it might feel like to give in for once. Who was he waiting for anyway?

  Ashley handed him his keys, but not before seeing his hand. “Your hand. You need to go to the ER, Tripp. Come on, I’ll take you.”

  He took her arm with his opposite hand, pulled her into the house, but started to stumble. “Don’t want to.”

  She led him to the sofa, helped him sit down. He pulled her onto his lap, felt her soft skin against his arms, the thin fabric of her dress against his chest.

  She resisted at first, but not very hard. “Tripp, this really isn’t like you. You need to sleep this off.”

  He lowered his lips to her neck, trailing them along her skin. He’d wanted to do this to Josie. Blast it all. Why couldn’t she love him? Why couldn’t she want him as he knew Ashley did? Why couldn’t she sink into his arms like this?

  But no, he refused to go there. Instead, he trailed his lips up to Ashley’s mouth, tasted her. She responded to him, but when he tasted salt, he opened his eyes and pulled away.

  “Why are you crying, Ash?”

  “Because I’ve wanted this for so long, but I know it’s not real and I know we need to stop whatever this is. You’ll wake up from this stupor and wish this hadn’t happened and I’ll want it to happen all over again. Only next time with you not drunk.”

  “I’m an idiot.” He sighed, felt himself sober up a notch. “I’m so sorry.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “You’ll never be over her, will you?”

  He shifted, lifting her off his lap. “I wish I could be. Ashley, you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve me, that’s for sure. I really am sorry. I should have never played with your feelings.”

  Of all people, he understood how that felt.

  “Let me take you to the ER?”