Disgrace

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  “What about him?” I asked, nodding toward a black puppy who was wagging his tail so fast as he looked at me. It looked like he was excited about finding a new friend, too.

  The employee got the dog for us. He then took us into a room to interact with the puppy to see if it was a match. The second they placed the dog down, he leaped in my direction, jumping in my lap. He began licking my face and hugging me as I hugged him tight.

  Ma smiled. “I think we found the perfect guy for you.”

  I laughed as he kept kissing my face.

  “Now all we need is a name,” Dad remarked.

  Whenever I would pull him back a little, he’d dig himself deeper into my lap. “How about Tucker?” I laughed. “Because he keeps tucking himself against me.”

  “Tucker.” Ma nodded, still smiling. “I love it.”

  “Me too,” Dad replied.

  They agreed.

  It must’ve been right.

  “Hi, Tucker,” I whispered, holding him close to me. It felt like he was hugging me back, and I liked that the most. I never, ever wanted to let him go. “I’m going to love you forever.”

  30

  Grace

  “Gracelyn Mae! Get down here, will you?” Mama hollered the morning of the peach festival. I’d been helping at her house by baking cupcakes all morning. The whole town was in a rush to get it set up, and I’d just finished putting on the red sundress Mama had picked out for me.

  We hadn’t truly spoken about anything, and the truth was, I was glad. I was certain if we did talk, it would just result in another disagreement, and I was tired of having those conversations with her.

  Soon enough, I’d be back in Atlanta teaching. Therefore, I didn’t see a point in arguing with her.

  As I walked downstairs, Mama tilted her head toward me. “Oh,” she muttered. “Is that how it looks on?”

  “Mama, don’t start,” I warned, feeling all my insecurities bubbling up.

  “No, no, it’s fine. You look fine.”

  Then Judy walked into the room, and Mama gasped, her hands flying over her mouth. “Oh my gosh, darling, you look stunning!” she remarked about Judy’s white sundress.

  The sundress was identical to mine, just a different color.

  Judy beamed so brightly and twirled. “Isn’t it fun? Oh my gosh, I’m so excited for today and for the fireworks display tonight. I think we are going to raise so much money for charity.”

  “With that beautiful smile of yours, you’ll get everyone to hand over their money for the cause. Did you choose which one you wanted to donate to?”

  Every peach festival, the church held a big barbecue and carnival, and all the money raised went to a charity. Seeing how Judy was in charge of organizing the event, she got to choose where the money from the event would go.

  “Yes,” she replied, looking in my direction. “I want to donate to the MISS Foundation,” she said.

  My heart skipped a beat. “Judy,” I whispered, and she gave me the most gentle smile.

  “I just think it’s important, you know? The work they do; their values and support—it save lives.”

  I tried to blink away my tears, and I nodded. I knew from personal experience how much they could save a life.

  The MISS Foundation helped families who’d suffered from the unbearable loss of a child. When I had my first miscarriage, they were who I turned to. When I had my seventh, they were who kept me from drowning.

  I’d once mentioned the foundation to Judy years ago; I hadn’t had a clue she remembered.

  But, of course, she did. She was, after all, the one who restored my faith in humanity each day.

  I walked over to her and gave her the tightest squeeze. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Always,” she replied, squeezing me even more. “The dress looks better on you, by the way.”

  Oh, sister, you and your lies.

  The carnival began, and everyone in town was there—except for the Emery men, of course. I had asked Jackson if he would attend, and he’d said he would rather eat five hundred cans of anchovies than be surrounded by all the folks of charming ole Chester.

  I couldn’t blame him. If it wasn’t for me being Chester royalty, I would’ve avoided it, too.

  It was probably a good thing he wasn’t there because the number of times his name was upon someone’s tongue was infuriating. Jackson never talked about anyone in town. Heck, I was almost certain he didn’t even know most of their names, but they were true fanatics about tossing his around.

  Every time someone said something ugly about him, the hair on my arms stood up. Every time someone called him a monster, I wanted to stand up to them. He wasn’t a monster at all, not the real Jackson. He was so gentle and kind. He saved me when I felt so alone.

  When Susie Harps remarked that the town would be perfect if we didn’t let white trash stay, I was seconds away from leaping at her and pulling out her extensions. “I’m just saying, it would be best if his father just went ahead and drank himself to death. Then maybe Jackson would off himself next,” she said in such a despicable tone.

  How could those words ever leave someone’s mouth?

  How could someone be so shockingly evil? Wishing death on someone? Really?

  My arm reached out and if not for a hand landing on my forearm, she would’ve been on the ground.

  “Whoa there, slugger,” Alex whispered. As I turned around, I saw his smiling face, and he shook his head. “It’s not worth it.”

  “Did you hear what she just said?”

  “Yes, but still, it’s not worth it,” he told me. “The more you react to their comments, the more power they have over you. Just walk away. Come on, let’s get some cotton candy.” He placed his arm around my shoulders, still smiling, but I felt sick to my stomach.

  “They wished him dead,” I barked.

  “Yeah, well, that’s their karma to deal with. If you pulled out that girl’s hair, that would be your karma, but look! Now your karma is clean, and you get cotton candy. I call that a win-win.” He bought me a cotton candy, and I shook my head at him in disbelief.

  “How do you always stay so positive? With everything and everyone?”

  “Oh, that’s easy—I smoke a lot of marijuana.” He smirked. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Jackson, actually. I just wanted to say thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Giving his darkness a chance. As you know, he’s a good person once you peel back those layers, and it means the world to me that you took the time to do that.”

  “It’s not just a one-way thing, Alex. He’s done the same thing for me. Whenever I feel like falling apart, he’s there to catch me.”

  “That’s the type of friend Jackson is—loyal and always there for you.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “You think I’m his friend?”

  Alex snickered and cocked an eyebrow. “You think you’re not? Rumor has it he sends you texts.”

  “Yeah…”

  “Not to sound dramatic or anything,” he said, leaning in, “but the asshole doesn’t even text me back. You might be his new favorite person. If it was anyone else, I’d probably be pissed, but since it’s you”—he shrugged—“I’ll allow it.”

  “So what does he do for the festival days? Does he hang out with his dad?”

  “Nah. Normally he sits on top of the shop and drinks while watching the fireworks.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yeah. I’ve tried to join him, but he won’t have it. Alone is something he’s used to, I think, and he has a hard time breaking that pattern.”

  Well, maybe it was time to have someone try to break it for him.

  * * *

  “What are you doing here?” Jackson asked as I made my way onto the roof of the auto shop, holding a bag in my hand.

  “What does it look like? I’m bringing you barbecue.” I handed him the food, and he gave me a somber look.

  “Thank you. You can leave it and go.”

 
; “Orrr…” I smiled brightly, sitting beside him. “I could stay.”

  “Orrr,” he responded, frowning sharply, “you can go.”

  “Even though I brought you food? That just seems rude. I won’t talk, I swear. I just want a nice place to watch the fireworks.”

  “Did Alex tell you I was here?”

  “He might have mentioned it.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Of course, he did. How was the carnival?” he asked.

  I smirked. “Do you really care about the ins and outs of Chester events?”

  “Not at all, but it seems like a big deal to you, so I thought I’d ask.”

  Swoon.

  Wait, did I just swoon?

  When was the last time I swooned?

  “It was good. They raised a lot of money for a great cause.” I told him about the MISS Foundation and what it meant to me, how they’d helped me through my miscarriages.

  “Seven?” he questioned.

  I nodded slowly. “Seven. I spoke with Josie about it a few weeks back. She’s lost a few of her own, too, and she has little hearts on her wrist with angel wings in memory of their lives. I thought about doing that, too, but my family’s a bit against tattoos. It’s not classy, as my mama would say.”

  “Your body, your choice,” Jackson said, making me smile a little. “I think it’s a good idea to have a reminder of them.”

  “Yeah…maybe. I’m just a bit tired of disappointing my mom.”

  “Sometimes, you have to disappoint people to better yourself,” he told me.

  “Maybe,” I said, still uncertain.

  “You’ll get there,” he told me. “To the point where you don’t care what other people think.”

  “That sounds like a great place to be.”

  “Trust me, it is.” He turned toward me, locking those beautiful hazel eyes with mine. “You would make a great mother.”

  Oh, Jackson…

  “Ah, come on, princess. I thought we were past the crying thing,” he joked, brushing his thumb beneath my eyes.

  “Sorry, I…that was a really nice thing to say, Jackson. Thank you.”

  “Just the truth.”

  We sat in silence, and it wasn’t long before the big show began. If there was one thing Chester was extremely good at—other than gossip—it was putting on a fireworks display.

  “This peach festival was the last chunk of time I spent with my mom,” Jackson told me, staring out at the sky as it lit up. “We sat up here eating Bomb Pops and Cheetos Puffs, watching the display. We were quiet, and I just remember feeling whole, like for the first time in a long time, everything would be all right. I mean, sure she passed away shortly after that, but at that moment, the world was still. At that moment, I was happy.”

  “Those are the things you have to hold—the moments.”

  He gave me a half smile. “This is a good moment,” he said, his voice low as he turned back out toward the fireworks.

  Yes, it was.

  “So, Jackson, are we like…friends?”

  He groaned, rolling his eyes in the most dramatic way. “Come on. Don’t do that, Grace.”

  “Do what?”

  “Be corny.”

  “How is that corny?”

  “Because you don’t ask people if they are your friend. They just…are.”

  “Oh.” I nodded slowly, staring out into the night. “So, we just…are?”

  “Yeah.” He nudged my shoulder with his. “We just are.”

  I wouldn’t tell him how good it felt—just being with him.

  As he looked out, his voice dropped low. “Listen, I know I’m not easy all the time. I’m a bit cold and hard to read, so thank you.”

  “What are you thanking me for?”

  “Being my friend. I never knew I needed you, but I did—I do.” He tilted his head my way and gave me a small smile, the kind that always made my heart skip. Jackson Emery didn’t smile a lot, so whenever he did, it felt like a secret gift he was only giving to me. “The only friend I’ve ever had was Tucker, you know? Then came you.”

  “You want to know a secret?” I asked him.

  “Yes.”

  “I think you’re the most graceful person in this town.”

  He laughed. “Bullshit.”

  “No, I mean it—not the you they make you out to be, but the real you, the one who gives his all to care for his father, the one who holds a girl who’s having a panic attack, the one who doesn’t fight back when the world is fighting you. You have the most grace I’ve ever seen.”

  “Princess?”

  “Yes, Oscar?”

  “You make it really hard.”

  “For what?”

  “For me to hate the whole world.”

  31

  Grace

  Jackson and I began seeing one another most days. It was as if I was his escape from reality, and he was mine—or more so, we were each other’s escape from the façade of superficiality in Chester. The town had been my home all my life, but lately, it felt as if I didn’t fit there anymore. The only time I felt like anything made sense was when I was with Jackson.

  In his darkness, I found my light.

  We began doing all types of activities together as a way of learning more about each other and ourselves. His life was spent caring for his father, and mine was spent being perfect for my mother, so for the first time ever, we took the time to learn who we were as individuals—together.

  We went to movies we would’ve never seen before and loved them. We went hiking, which I hated. We tried to build furniture just to say we could do it. (He could. I couldn’t.)

  Some of my favorite times, though, were sitting in the back of The Silent Bookshop beside one another, flipping through different novels together. It was so easy to be quiet with him. The silence felt a little like home.

  My other favorite moments were spent on his couch doing nothing but talking about anything and everything. Those were the times when I felt as if I learned the most about the man across from me. Those were the small moments I adored.

  “I didn’t learn to swim until I was seventeen years old. I’ve only ever had one pet, and it was a cat named Mouse. My two front teeth got knocked out when I fell face first during the Founder’s Day parade one year. I can understand Spanish but can’t speak a word of it, and I think cardinals are my favorite bird,” I told him, giving him random facts.

  He melted into the couch cushion a bit. “I was named after Jackson Pollock. My middle name is Paul because that was Jackson’s real first name. I almost fell in love once when I was nineteen with a girl passing through town. I think I chose her because I knew she wouldn’t stay. I hate peas but think they work fine in beef stroganoff. I’m obsessed with Game of Thrones, and I secretly judge anyone who isn’t.”

  “Confession: I’ve never seen Game of Thrones.”

  His eyes darted over to me before quickly looking away. “Oh, well, that’s okay.”

  I laughed. “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Secretly judging me.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “I’m not.”

  “You totally are! I see it in your eyes.”

  “No, I mean, I get it—it’s not your fault you’re shockingly uncool.”

  I snickered and shoved him. “Screw you.”

  “Nah, I don’t screw people who don’t fuck with Jon Snow.”

  My cheeks heated at his comment, and I hoped he couldn’t see the redness of my face in the partially darkened room.

  “I bet you’re the type of person who’s never seen Breaking Bad or The Walking Dead either.”

  “Guilty as charged.”

  “Sons of Anarchy?”

  “Um, never heard of it.”

  His eyes bugged out. “Geez, Grace! What exactly do you do with your time?”

  I smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know, live life?”

  He grimaced. “I bet you crochet for fun.”

  I blushed.

  He narrowed his eye
s. “You do crochet, don’t you?”

  I bit my thumb.

  I freaking loved to crochet.

  “Oh my gosh, you’re an old woman,” he groaned, slapping his hand against his face. “Well, hell, if we are going to keep crossing paths, you’ll have to sit through a few episodes of Game of Thrones. I’m going to un-old you.”

  I kept laughing. “Well, if we’re watching Game of Thrones, I’m crocheting as I do it.”

  “You can’t crochet while watching. You need to be one-hundred-percent focused on the show, otherwise it’s just a waste of time. You won’t know what’s…Grace?”

  “Yes?”

  He glanced down, and I saw that somehow, at some point, my hand had found its way to his. I’d laced my fingers with his fingers. I’d moved in close enough to touch him, and I hadn’t even noticed.

  I quickly pulled my hand away and took a deep breath.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  “Don’t be,” he replied. His hand slowly inched closer to me, and his pinky finger brushed against mine. “You miss this, yeah? The small moments?”

  I closed my eyes at the touch. “Yes.”

  His hand slowly slid on top of mine, our fingers intertwining. “And this?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth. “Holding hands?”

  Take a small breath…

  “Yes.”

  He moved his body closer to me then took his other hand and placed it on the nape of my neck. His fingers slowly began to massage my skin, making me tilt my head to the side. “And you miss this?”

  Yes…

  Oh, yes, I missed that.

  Our thighs brushed, our breaths sawing in and out in sync.

  Yes…yes…yes…

  “I miss this,” I confessed, placing my hands on his chest. “I miss being touched…miss being held without the hooking up and all.”

  “Let me do this,” he said softly, placing his forehead against mine. His gentle breaths caressed my lips as I kept my eyes closed. “Let me hold you.”

  He lifted me into his arms and placed me on his lap. My legs wrapped around him, and he held me close. I was so close that my head fell against his chest. We were so close that each time I took an inhale, I could listen to his heartbeats.