Where Grace Appears

by Heidi Chiavaroli

  He looked at his knuckles. “I’m fine. Really.”

  She stood. “Okay.”

  “Ashley, I know I don’t deserve what I’m about to ask but—”

  “You’re right, you don’t.” A small, sad smile broke over her face. “But it doesn’t matter, I’ll give it to you anyway. I won’t say a word about this, to anyone.”

  “You’re a good friend,” he said.

  “Remember that, Tripp Colton.”

  And then she was gone, leaving him to sleep off the haze of drunkenness he’d stupidly drowned himself in.

  “Man, you smell like you took a bath in a tub of Jack Daniels after running a marathon.”

  Tripp peeled open his eyes. A sharp pain split the side of his head and he winced, closing his eyes again.

  Another insistent tap on his arm. “Come on, Bro, we got to get you off the couch before Grandpop gets home. No hope for this couch but to steam clean it, anyway.”

  “August?”

  “You expecting Princess Leia? Come on, up and at ’em, Tiger.”

  With much effort, he allowed his brother to help him into a sitting position. He pressed a hand to his head, then winced at the throb in his knuckles.

  “What’d you do, get in a fight with Grandpop’s liquor cabinet?”

  Tripp groaned. “Something like that.” With his left hand, he pulled up on August’s arm until they both stood.

  “Can you make it up the stairs?”

  “Don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “Not if you want Grandpop to keep you up on that pedestal of yours.”

  Tripp worked his way up the stairs, his head throbbing with each step. He was a royal idiot and a half. And August finding him like this….

  Lord, what have I done?

  With crashing realization, he remembered Ashley, and then his horrible conversation with Josie. He stumbled a few feet from his room, fresh pain sucker punching him in the gut.

  Once upstairs, August grabbed Tripp a couple of ibuprofen and a glass of water, then dumped him in the shower. The hot water cleared his head some, but as he recalled the fool he’d made of himself, he wished for the haze again.

  He shut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist, then went into his bedroom where August sat in his desk chair. “She’s really pregnant, huh?”

  Tripp pressed his left hand to his still aching head. “How’d you know?”

  “Can’t think of much else that would send you to Grandpop’s liquor cabinet.”

  “I shouldn’t have done that, August. It was stupid. I’m a—”

  “Hey, I know. Just—try not to be the big brother or the boss right now, okay? I’m trying to help you for once.”

  “Yeah…about that, thanks.” Tripp ducked back into the bathroom to hang up his towel and throw on a fresh pair of shorts and some deodorant.

  “I’m assuming you’re not the father.”

  “You’re assuming right.”

  August clasped his hands over outstretched legs, shook his head. “Man. Josie. I could have seen Amie getting knocked up, or maybe even Maggie, but not Josie. She always seemed to know where she was going and it never had anything to do with getting caught up in men. What happened?”

  “I thought you were trying to help.” Tripp lay on his bed, allowed the breeze from the open window to calm him. The smell of lilacs floated in. Mom had loved lilacs. He thought of her in heaven, and for a split second felt a moment of peace. He wasn’t in control, of any of this.

  He should have tried telling himself that before he broke into Grandpop’s liquor.

  Who did he think he was, anyway? Hot shot contractor, in charge of the thriving family business, father figure to his younger brother, moral, faithful, God-fearing man…yeah, right. He’d really proven his worth today, hadn’t he?

  “God, I’m such a mess. Help.”

  August came over, sat beside him, jabbed him in the ribs. “Hey, aren’t you always telling me that God loves us even when we’re at our ugliest?”

  Tripp couldn’t contain a small smile. “You were actually listening to me?”

  “Maybe here and there.”

  Tripp breathed deep around the lingering pain in his heart. God loved him at his ugliest—and if the last few hours were any indication, he was a colossal ugly. Yet, he would survive. He would get through.

  And God loved Josie at her ugliest, too. Now. She was in trouble and alone. Not truly alone, he knew, for Hannah and her siblings would never leave her side.

  But he had.

  He thought of the rumors circulating in town. People thought he was the father. For once, he wished the gossip were true.

  With renewed pain, he remembered Ashley sitting on his lap. How far would he have let things go if it hadn’t been for Ashley’s tears? And how would he feel going to Josie with such a confession, only to have Josie turn her back on him as he had done to her today?

  He groaned again. He claimed to love Josie forever and ever, and yet he’d abandoned her when she needed him most. Of course, no one expected him to sit around and keep up the puppy love habit, but he was her friend, and he sure hadn’t acted like one.

  And though it hurt like Hades, it also didn’t change the fact that he loved her. Well, now was his chance to prove it: love despite the ugly. The kind of love that was much more than a nice, fuzzy feeling. More than lust. But genuine compassion. Willing the good of another. Being prepared to sacrifice.

  “Uh-oh. I know that look. What are you planning, Bro?”

  Tripp shook his head. He had a lot of thinking and praying to do before he saw Josie again. He had a call to make to Ashley, an apology to utter. And probably somewhere in there, he needed to see a doctor about his hand.

  He sat up. “Nothing but a lot of reevaluating. You up to driving me to the hospital so I can get this hand looked at?”

  August grinned. “Sure. You know, if you wanted to get out of framing the rest of that in-law apartment, you could have just said so. You’re the boss after all.”

  Tripp didn’t have the energy to put his brother in a sleeper-hold today, but soon, very soon, he would.

  And then he’d thank the daylights out of him.

  16

  There was something to be said about ripping the Band-Aid off fast.

  Tripp’s reaction to my misdeeds hurt. It caused me to grieve my choices anew, but now I could stop wondering how he’d take it all. I was done with secrets. Thanks to Jenny, there wouldn’t be any left anyhow. Best to set the town straight before my sins harmed others.

  Like my family.

  I entered the house, quiet except for the gentle hum of the dishwasher. A flutter of movement in the backyard caught my attention and I opened the door to the patio, where Lizzie was planting larkspur and pink pansies in a pot. I sat on a chair beside her. “Those are pretty.”

  She pulled back, surveying her work. “They are, aren’t they? I’ve been planning some pots for Aunt Pris’s porch. Thought about it a lot on my hike this morning.”

  “Where’d you go today?”

  “Maiden Cliff. I wanted to work on a song.”

  “Hopefully not a morbid one.”

  Lizzie smiled, her face at peace. I remembered Dad’s name for her, then, thought it suited. Little Tranquility.

  “I’ve always been drawn to that place, the story of that girl.”

  A large white cross marked the top of Maiden Cliff in memory of the eleven-year-old girl who had fallen from it more than one-hundred fifty years ago. I wasn’t sure how healthy Lizzie’s preoccupation with her was. Whether it be this girl, Elizabeth Alcott, or Molly Mello, a fifteen-year-old from our church who had recently died in a tragic car accident, my sister tended to dwell on those who had gone too soon. I often wondered why Mom and Dad had named us after the Little Women characters—and why they thought it okay to name Lizzie after the one whose outcome had been…well, morbid. Of course, Lizzie’s brush with cancer didn’t help any.

  “You’re always one for
deep thoughts.” I smiled at her. “You look good. Really good.”

  “I feel good. I’m on a new thyroid medication that’s making all the difference. I’ve never had so much energy.”

  I could tell. She actually glowed. Beautiful. I remembered sitting in the hospital waiting room after they’d taken out her thyroid, my own shorn head cold from the unfamiliar chill of the exposed air. I’d appreciated my sister anew then. The thought of losing such a gentle spirit, the simple beauty of her self-forgetfulness that brought such brilliant light to our own family, was more than I could take. I wondered when she woke what she would say about my bald head. She’d think I’d done it for Rose Hornwell, of course. Rose shared a room in the hospital with Lizzie and had a much more serious form of cancer and was already deep in chemotherapy.

  The day before her surgery, Lizzie lay amidst crisp white hospital bed sheets, her old favorite doll Johanna, laying by her side, almost enveloped in the large sleeve of her jonnie. “I wish I could do something for Rose. She’s devastated about losing her hair. I’d shave my own head if I could to make her feel better.”

  I’d tugged at my sister’s smooth brown locks. “Let’s get you through surgery before you start planning such things.” But as they rolled Lizzie away to surgery, I knew something I could do to encourage her—and of course, it hadn’t anything to do with her at all.

  I still remembered Tripp’s look of horror when he first saw me in the waiting room, then his warm arms around me and soft lips upon my shaved head as I explained in tears why I’d done what I’d done. “You’re still beautiful to me.” In that moment, so very frightened to lose my sister and her gentle spirit, Tripp’s warm embrace comforted my sore heart, led me nearer to the Divine arm that would truly uphold me in my worries over the weeks and months following Lizzie’s surgery.

  Later that night, Tripp bought me a soft green knitted cap with a handwritten note that said, Lizzie’s not the only one with a heart as big as the moon. You are amazing, Josie Martin.

  He’d loved me even then. Why hadn’t I had the eyes to appreciate it?

  Lizzie cleared her throat from her spot on the patio. “Speaking of deep thoughts, you’re awfully quiet.” She pressed her gloved hands into the sides of the pot, the gentle color of the flowers swaying beneath her ministrations.

  “I have a few, I suppose.” My breath wobbled at the thought of what I needed to say.

  “Out with it then.” She pivoted to give me her full attention.

  The front door slammed, making me jump. “Josie!”

  “Out here!” I called, already dreading the urgent pitch of Amie’s voice.

  She rushed out the back door, spilling her books onto the patio table. “Tia Graber is spreading the most ugly rumor about you and Tripp. It’s all over school, and I almost socked that pretty little nose of hers off her face for insisting it was true.”

  “Oh, Amie.” Lizzie sat up straighter. “You cannot get in trouble with only a few days left of classes. They could ban you from graduation, you know.”

  Amie looked at me. “Don’t you even care what they’re saying? I mean, I know you all might have gotten used to everyone talking about us over the years, but I for one am so ready to be done with this school and this town. And them bringing Tripp into it…” Her face reddened. “It’s not right.”

  “I’m surprised a bunch of high-schoolers care about us old folks.” I attempted to joke, but it fell flat.

  “Well, what’s the horrible rumor then?” Lizzie asked.

  I breathed deep. “I already know what they’re saying.”

  “You do?”

  I bit my lip. “I spoke to Tripp this afternoon.”

  Amie flopped onto the double patio swing, pushed her legs against the cobbles. “So it’s already gotten around town. Great. Poor Tripp.”

  “What about poor Josie?” Lizzie pinched the fingers of one of her gloves and slid it off.

  I shook my head. “It’s not poor Josie because—”

  “We having a pow wow?” Bronson, covered in grass clippings, came around the side of the house and sprawled out on the shade of the cobbles in the far corner, clumps of dirt sticking to the bottom of his work boots.

  “Josie was just going to tell us why there’s a big rumor going around that she’s pregnant with Tripp’s baby.” Amie crossed her arms over her chest.

  Bronson shot up. “What? I’ll kill him. I don’t care if he’s older and bigger than me—”

  Lizzie lay a hand on his arm. “It’s not true, Bron. It’s just a rumor.”

  Amie squinted at me. “But rumors usually start with a shred of truth, so what gives, Josie? Are you and Tripp back together again?”

  “We never were together to begin with, so—”

  “Guys, can I have some help with the groceries?” Mom called through the window. “I think I went overboard, and—” She looked at all of us, came outside the door. “What’s the matter? Do I need to sit down? Tell me if I need to sit down because I think I’ve handled my quota of shocking news for a lifetime in the last eighteen months.”

  I rubbed my hands over my eyes. Poor Mom. Blow after blow for this family. Never simply a time to rest, to enjoy peace. “You better sit down, Mom.”

  Lizzie and Amie turned wide eyes toward me. Mom lowered herself beside Amie on the swing.

  There was no easy way to say this, no easy way to deliver my news. Best to deliver it quick and fast, face the consequences of my shame head-on.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  I expected a lot of reactions, but Mom laughing wasn’t one of them.

  I stared at her. “I’m not joking.”

  The laughter on Mom’s lips died and her mouth fell open.

  “Josie,” Lizzie whispered.

  Amie stared at me, shook her head back and forth, back and forth.

  Bronson stood, heading for the door. “I’ll kill him. Acting all high-and-mighty, badgering you to high heaven. He’s—”

  “Tripp’s not the father, Bronson.”

  “Then tell me who is, because I’m not above killing strangers, either.”

  I could only stare at Mom, suddenly preoccupied with the pattern of cobbles at her feet.

  “Mom, say something,” I said.

  “Okay. It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.” She pushed her feet against the cobbles to rock the swing.

  “I told Maggie last night.” Not pertinent information, but something to fill the silence of the patio, the void of disbelief suspended in the air. “I don’t know that I’m going to keep the baby, but I had an appointment last week, and I’m due in October.” I lifted my gaze to my mother’s. “Mom, I’m so sorry. I know you didn’t expect this, I know you’ll be disappointed in me—I’m disappointed in myself. But all the same, I’m sorry.”

  She swallowed, held her hand out to me. “Honey, you are a grown woman and I will always be proud of you. This doesn’t change that. I just—well, you always had such big career plans for yourself. A baby…oh my, a baby.”

  “I know it complicates things. That’s why I needed to tell you all now. I’ll have to tell Aunt Pris before she gives us her final answer, too.”

  “But if Tripp’s not the father, who is?” Amie asked.

  I shook my head. “That’s not important. He was a man I knew in New York, a man I got wrapped up in. A mistake.”

  Lizzie placed a hand on my knee. “I’m so sorry, Josie.”

  I didn’t deserve such words and tears pricked the back of my eyelids.

  “I was stupid. Even now, I feel like I was in some alternate reality. That’s not an excuse. I made decisions, and now I need to face them. I don’t know if I can keep this baby, I don’t know if I can be a single mother. I don’t know if I can afford to live on my own while paying for childcare. I don’t know if I’m what’s best for this child.”

  “If you keep the baby, the father has to pay child support. He can’t just walk away because he’s a man. I mean, what kind of lowlife does that?” Amie�
��s face turned red.

  “He knows, doesn’t he?” Lizzie slid her small hand into mine.

  I pressed my lips together before speaking. While I needn’t tell them Finn’s identity, I could tell them the facts. “He knows. He wants nothing to do with the child. I’d rather move on and pretend he doesn’t exist.”

  “He sounds like a winner.” Bronson’s sarcastic words stung. Not because they weren’t truth, but because they pointed to my own bad judgment.

  “Right now, that’s where I’m at. Maybe once the baby arrives and I know for certain what I’m going to do with it, I’ll be able to face him. But right now, it’s still too painful.”

  Bronson sat back down on the cobbles, arms slung loose over bent knees. “If the father refuses to be involved, then maybe giving it up is what’s best. There’s lots of couples who actually want a baby—”

  “And who’s to say Josie doesn’t want her baby?” Lizzie said in her quiet way. She turned to me. “I’d help you, Josie. I know I’m not a father, but I would love your baby like he or she was my own.”

  “Oh, Lizzie…”

  “This is a big decision.” Mom rubbed her temples. “It’s not one to be made lightly or by others, and certainly not in one night. This is Josie’s decision. But honey, we are family and we will support whatever you decide.”

  A chorus of nods and affirmations.

  “Thank you.” I hadn’t expected anything less, but to hear it caused a burden to lift from my chest.

  Bronson stood, took off his hat, and slapped it against his thigh. “I still want to kill the guy.”

  He wasn’t the only one.

  “I’m going to go shower. Maybe…you think we could pray for you?”

  “Only if you add in a prayer for your murderous heart as well.” I joked, but didn’t mind the offer of prayer as much as I usually bristled at such things. Here, it seemed a show of support, a solidarity in beseeching a Help I very much needed.

  “Done.” Bronson placed his hand on my shoulder. He prayed for the unborn babe within, for wisdom and guidance for me in making the decision I would have to make for my child. He even prayed for the father of my baby.