His Saving Grace

by Janice Carter

  “Sure. Why?” He ran his finger along the inside of his shirt collar.

  “You seem a bit tense.”

  “Nope. But...uh...isn’t the captain going to have us put on our life jackets?”

  “I don’t know.” She peered around at the other passengers, pointing at things on shore or snapping photos with their cell phones. “I suppose safety is a big issue for someone in the Coast Guard though. Do you think we should put ours on?”

  “No one else is. I guess it’s okay.” He swallowed hard.

  The boat was motoring toward the rocky spit at the end of the cove and beyond, open water. Drew tried to get his mind off the sea ahead. “I was taking some pictures earlier this morning when I saw a woman up there,” he said, gesturing to the lighthouse as they cruised past it.

  Grace turned sharply. “A woman?”

  “Looked like a woman. For a minute I thought it was you.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “You sound as if that would be an impossibility.” He managed a smile, in spite of his queasiness.

  “Well...uh... I was busy all morning.”

  “I walked out to the tower when I was looking for Felix, but there was no sign of her by the time I got there.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured, gazing indifferently out to the bay.

  “But I did see something interesting.”

  She turned back to him again. “What?”

  “I guess you’ve noticed that someone has been placing flowers on the path.”

  She nodded.

  “This morning someone—it must have been that woman—put a small flag and a packet of firecrackers by the flowers.”

  Her eyes grew big in her small face. She swiveled round to stare at the lighthouse until the boat made a slow, wide turn toward the outer bay and left it behind.

  Drew was interested in her reaction. She’d known about the flowers but hadn’t seemed very curious about them. As if she already knew who was bringing them? He was about to ask her when the sea breeze picked up and the boat rolled gently into oncoming swells. Drew gripped the edge of the bench.

  “You’re not seasick, are you?” She was peering down at his hands.

  He might have laughed at the incredulity in her voice if he wasn’t feeling so nauseous. “Not exactly,” he mumbled.

  “You don’t look as if you’re enjoying this.” She touched the side of his face. “Do you want some water?”

  He cleared his throat. “Um...sure...thanks.”

  She opened a plastic bottle and handed it to him, watching him take a couple of long swigs.

  “Thanks. That’s better.” Except it really wasn’t and Drew prayed the cruise boat didn’t go out of the bay. He felt her staring at him. “What?” he asked, trying for a casual tone.

  “I’m thinking it’s a bit funny that a Coast Guard officer might be seasick.”

  Drew took a deep breath. “I haven’t been in a boat for quite a while. I’m more of a land Coast Guard officer.”

  “I didn’t know there was such a creature.”

  “We’re a rare breed.” He aimed for a smile but failed.

  She lifted one of his hands off the bench and held it in her lap. Drew’s eyes met hers and this time he could smile. As his breathing slowed, he eased his hand out of hers to stretch his arm across her shoulders and draw her close. He looked across the wide bay and relaxed against the back of the bench.

  I can do this, as long as she stays right here, close by me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “CAN YOU OPEN THIS, dear?”

  Evelyn handed Grace a jar of pickles. Her mother never complained about her rheumatoid arthritis, but there were signs when she was experiencing a flare-up: slow, deliberate movements, fatigue or a lack of strength in her joints.

  “Sure, Mom.” Grace unscrewed the lid and handed the jar back. “Aches and pains?”

  Her mother grimaced at the euphemism she’d established with her children years ago when they were little and she sometimes couldn’t lift or carry them. She’d developed rheumatoid arthritis after Grace’s birth. Fortunately, modern medicine had made a huge difference in the autoimmune disease, but there were times when the symptoms recurred.

  “What time did you ask Drew to come?”

  “You said six, right?”

  “Yes, but I thought you were both coming then.”

  “I thought I’d come early, to help.” Which was true, more or less. She’d tossed and turned all night, replaying the day with Drew and his parting words after kissing her good-night. “Think about telling your parents, Grace. Soon.”

  He was right. They needed to know but now that she was here alone with her mother her courage was fading. Charles was resting upstairs and Ben had gone into the company office. She wanted to get it over with so that they’d have time to process the news well before Drew arrived. But she was running out of time, she realized, looking at the microwave clock.

  “I’ll set the table for you,” she said, getting up from the kitchen island’s bar stool.

  “It’s already done.”

  Grace shook her head. Her mother’s organizational skills had definitely not been passed down to her. “Have you left anything for me to do?”

  Evelyn thought for a minute. “Check the table for me to make sure everything’s on it that should be.”

  Grace headed through the open kitchen, which had been modernized three years ago, and down the hall toward the dining room. Except for electrical and plumbing upgrades, along with necessary redecorating through the years, the Winters family home had changed very little from Grace’s grandfather’s time. With five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a formal dining room and two parlors that had been combined into one airy living room overlooking the bay, the house had always been far too big for their small family.

  Once when she was little, her grandfather Desmond had rummaged through his rolltop desk and pulled out a large piece of yellowed paper marked with faint pencil lines. “Your great-granddaddy Hiram drew the plans for this house and started its construction,” he’d explained. “And I followed his design as best as I could when I finished it.” Grace figured old Hiram had anticipated more descendants than he’d gotten.

  Now when she watched her mother and father shuffling around, avoiding the narrow stairs leading to the turret bedrooms that she and Ben had once occupied—though Ben was back in his again—and basically living in only a few of the rooms, Grace realized that her parents might have to consider downsizing. As she entered the formal dining room with its gleaming oak wainscoting and massive bay window, she felt a pang at the thought that one day this beautiful home might no longer be in the family. Of course, it would be an inheritance, but realistically neither she nor her brother considered their move back to Lighthouse Cove permanent.

  Grace knew that Ben’s taking over the family business had been a challenge, mainly because their father couldn’t let go. Charles refused to officially retire, in spite of his doctor’s—and his wife’s—advice, and Ben struggled with having to double-check every action or decision. Grace had no idea what her brother’s plans would be after his divorce was finalized because his desire for privacy was almost an obsession. But she suspected that unless he was given full autonomy of the family business, he might not stay beyond the year he’d promised.

  As for Grace, her refusal to consider the return home as anything more than temporary was what got her up in the morning. That and the bookstore. Drew’s remark at dinner on Thursday night about reconnecting with school friends had been a sobering reminder that, except for Cassie and her summer friend, Ella, Grace had been pretty much a loner in high school. Especially after that summer when everyone was speculating and whispering about what had happened on Labor Day weekend.

  She strolled around the table, set the way her mother liked it. Not too fussy but fancy, with the Win
terses’ collection of china, crystal and silver. Then she paused to recount. There were six places rather than five.

  “Mom?” She headed back to the kitchen, where her mother was tossing a salad.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Is someone else coming besides Drew? There are six settings.”

  Evelyn placed the salad tongs on the island counter. “Suzanna is coming.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Your father and I feel this rift between our families has gone on far too long.”

  “But why now?”

  “His heart condition has resulted in some self-reflection, I think. We thought this would be a good opportunity for the family.”

  “Isn’t her husband coming?”

  “Apparently he had other plans.” Evelyn pulled a face. “I think there might be some trouble with their marriage.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Suzanna and I have been in touch these past few months. She reached out to me when your father had his surgery. We’ve chatted a few times on the phone, about how her mother is doing in Bangor, the hotel and so on. Once when we were speaking, she implied her husband might be having an affair.”

  Grace was speechless, trying to process this information and realizing how out of touch she’d been with her extended family.

  “You know the family story, I’m sure,” Evelyn was saying but the only narrative in Grace’s mind at that moment was her plan to tell her parents the real reason behind Drew’s arrival in the Cove. “Your father and his brother fell out not long after your grandfather died. Fred always thought it was unfair that Charles got the business. He felt he was stuck with the hotel that never brought in nearly as much money as the construction company. And to be fair, he had a point. Then after Brandon died...” Evelyn shrugged.

  Everyone knew how that story ended, Grace was thinking. And maybe now was a good time. “Speaking of Brandon,” she began. Her mother’s puzzled face caused Grace to falter briefly but she thought of her promise to Drew and plunged in. “I’m... I’m sorry, Mom, but I misled you and Dad the other day when Drew and I bumped into you at the harbor.”

  Evelyn frowned but waited for her to continue. It was a trait in her mother she’d always appreciated, especially as a teen. The ability to listen, without interrupting.

  Knowing her mother hated the bar stools, Grace gestured to the round bistro table near the glass sliding doors leading out to the deck. “Why don’t we sit over there?”

  When they were seated, she took a deep breath before starting. “I didn’t meet Drew through Henry as I implied, but we met because of a plan that Henry and I concocted.”

  Evelyn leaned forward, placing her forearms on the table and fixing her eyes on Grace.

  “Drew’s work for the Coast Guard has to do with lighthouse maintenance. He’s been traveling up and down the coast the last few weeks inspecting lighthouses, but he came here because of a request Henry and I sent to the Coast Guard offices in Portland. We...uh...we asked for funds to restore the lighthouse. We want to restore it as a memorial to Brandon. With a plaque.”

  Now her mother’s eyes widened and sensing she was finally about to speak, Grace rushed on, “Drew came to discuss our request and to check out the lighthouse. Or tower, as he calls it, because there’s only the tower and no other building attached to it. Then it would be called a light station.”

  Evelyn held up a hand.

  “Okay, I know I’m digressing.”

  “Why now, Gracie, after all this time?”

  Grace sighed. “That’s what Ben said.”

  “Ben knows?”

  “I just told him this morning. Since I’ve come home, everything that happened that summer has come back. I see the lighthouse almost every day and...and it makes me feel sad. I thought that maybe if it could be a positive reminder of Brandon for all of us that we might feel better. That it would be a kind of—”

  “Don’t say that word,” her mother warned.

  “What word?”

  “Closure. I dislike that word. There’s no such thing as closure. There’s only acceptance.”

  “I think looking at a memorial every day would give us a warmer feeling than just seeing the lighthouse as a place of death. And yes, it would also be a kind of acceptance for us.”

  “Who are you referring to, Gracie, when you say ‘us’?”

  “Well, all of us. The family.”

  “What about Brandon’s immediate family? His mother and sister?”

  Grace felt as if she were in a time loop, the same questions arising over and over but with different people posing them. Perhaps there’s a reason for that, she thought. I’ve been conveniently overlooking the most important part of the whole equation. Aunt Jane and Suzanna.

  “I intend to ask them how they feel about the idea, Mom, but the problem is that it might not happen at all. Drew says the lighthouse will be decommissioned and after that, it could be sold or torn down. But it can’t be sold unless it passes a structural inspection, to see if it’s stable and can even be repaired. So...” She stopped, noticing her mother’s head shaking.

  “Grace, please don’t tell me you hope to purchase the lighthouse.”

  “Well, not me personally. But we would fundraise for it. Get the whole town on board.”

  Evelyn ran her fingers back and forth across her forehead. Thinking what to say and how to say it, Grace thought. Her mother was far more circumspect than she had ever been.

  “When were you planning on discussing this with Suzanna? Or Jane?”

  “I wanted to tell you and Dad today, before Drew came.”

  “Does he know all about this...this family situation of ours?”

  “A bit. He suggested I confer with everyone as soon as possible.”

  “I’m pleased to know he’s sensible as well as nice.” Evelyn smiled. She thought some more before adding, “You can’t ambush Suzanna with this tonight over dinner. It’s not fair. She needs time—and privacy—to consider the whole idea and what it would mean to her and her mother.”

  “I’m afraid the matter might come up.”

  “You’ll simply have to make sure it doesn’t, Gracie. Do your best. Without any more misleading statements.”

  Grace smiled. Her mother had always been low-key, even in her scolding. “What about Dad?”

  “Let me deal with your father.” Evelyn stood and glanced at the time. “Would you set the wineglasses out on the dining room sideboard, please? Our guests will be here soon.” She opened a cabinet door and began to take out serving dishes. Their talk was over.

  Grace went to the dining room china cabinet for the wineglasses. Some of her nervousness about the dinner had disappeared, but she knew this was only her first step back into the past. The next one—if she ever had the courage to take it—would be much more painful.

  * * *

  DREW KNEW SOMETHING was up when Grace met him at the front door of her parents’ house and said in a low voice, “I told my mother and she’s going to speak to my father but just to warn you, my cousin Suzanna is coming, too.” She tucked her arm into his, leading him inside.

  Drew could only nod, overwhelmed by the greeting. He wondered if there was always this much drama with Grace and could someone like him, who preferred an even keel in life, grow to tolerate it? But looking down at the mix of worry and pleasure—at seeing him, he hoped—in her lovely face, Drew knew right then he wanted the opportunity to do just that. To discover all the sides of Grace Winters.

  “And Mom thought it isn’t fair to drop the news on Suzanna like this, so I’ve decided to contact her tomorrow and tell her.”

  “You don’t have to explain your actions to me, Grace. I realize what I said last night sounded a bit too much like advice and I’m sorry for that. You don’t need to listen to advice from me, much less take it. I’m
not the person to give advice to anyone, believe me.”

  “Maybe I told you all about the family situation and my dilemma because I wanted some advice. Besides, I trust you.” She smiled, her dark eyes shining. “Come, Mom says to give you a quick tour of the house while she puts the finishing touches on her dessert.”

  I trust you. No one had said those words to him in a long time and they were nice to hear. He hoped he could live up to them.

  Grace led him into the entry hall with its chandelier and staircase that wound up to the second floor. He stopped to look up at the landing where the stairs branched off on either side. “Do those sets of stairs go to the turrets?”

  “Yes. There’s a bedroom in each one. Dad says they were for servants in my great-grandfather’s time. When my father was growing up, he and his brother had them for bedrooms and so did my brother and I. Ben’s back up there again, for now.”

  “His return to town isn’t permanent?”

  “I doubt it. He promised he’d help out for a year but he’s in the middle of a divorce, so who knows?” She shrugged. “I’ll show you the rest of the ground floor, but Suzanna will be here soon, and we’ll be having drinks in the living room.”

  The old house was beautiful. As they walked through room after room, Drew gaped at original wood paneling and light fixtures, stained and beveled glass panes above door lintels; a study/library with floor-to-ceiling bookcases; another room that Grace explained had been a bedroom before its transformation into a den with comfy leather furniture and a wall-mounted TV; a small solarium and finally, a powder room.

  When he’d driven through the wrought-iron gates at the front of the house, Drew had surmised that the rear of the house overlooking the town would have expansive windows and he was right. The large living room that they now entered had breathtaking views of the harbor and Casco Bay beyond.

  “My parents had this room redone twenty years ago. When I was little, this space consisted of two small, gloomy parlors. My father’s company did the reno,” she said with a sweeping gesture of her arm toward the floor-to-ceiling windows along the length of the room.