His Saving Grace

by Janice Carter

  When he was on his feet, he reached down for both of her hands and gently pulled her to her feet. They staggered down the dune to where they’d left their things. Grace watched, numb with cold, while Drew tossed items aside until he found the blanket. He rubbed her arms and legs with it until they tingled and wrapped it around her.

  When her trembling eased, she said, “I’m okay. You get dry now.” In spite of the balmy night, they were both shivering. Grace still couldn’t move. “I kept thinking about Brandon the whole time I was underwater. That maybe this was my punishment.” She saw him frown.

  “Let’s get to the car, Grace,” was all he said. He picked up the cooler and her tote bag, then clasped her hand in his free one.

  There were no lights in Henry’s place when they reached the car. “I wonder what time it is,” Grace said as Drew helped her into the passenger side. She sensed she wasn’t thinking clearly. Everything around her—Henry’s bungalow, the halo around the streetlight and the cool leather of the car seat—melded in a blurry collage of touch and sound. There were no edges to hold on to.

  Suddenly Drew was revving the engine and the car was moving slowly down the street, around the corner and onto the waterfront road. Grace dug her fingers into the armrest.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice sounded peculiar—thin and taut, like a wire. She saw him look sharply at her, as if he’d only discovered she was there. The notion made her giggle.

  “Grace,” he said in a tone that immediately got her attention. “We’re going to your place.”

  Later she tried to recall the interval between leaving Henry’s and sitting on the sofa in her apartment, holding a mug of something hot—maybe tea—but the time span was blank until Drew sank down beside her. He was drinking from a mug, too, and she watched him set it down on the coffee table in front of them before reaching for hers and placing it next to his.

  “Where’s your cell phone?” he asked and she wanted to laugh again, the question was so unexpected. But a tiny part of her brain suggested she shouldn’t. Slowly objects around her began to form into recognizable shapes with stark outlines.

  “Um, I think I left it here somewhere.”

  “Okay. Just that mine’s toast now. Where do you usually leave it?”

  She noticed him glance around the room, as if waiting for the phone to raise its hand. Here. Another suppressed giggle. Grace took a deep breath and released it in a long exhale. “Maybe on the nightstand beside my bed?”

  She watched him get up and head for her bedroom, returning seconds later with a phone in his hand. “Why?” she asked as he sat next to her again.

  “In case I need to call someone to come and stay with you.”

  “You’re here. You can stay.”

  His eyes were serious and he kept them fixed on hers. “I will, Grace. And right now you’re going into your room to change and get into bed.”

  She nodded. “This sofa isn’t big enough for you.”

  His smile was the first she’d seen in hours. Or so it seemed. “If you’ve got an extra pillow and blanket, I’ll be fine on the floor.”

  A faint disappointment breezed through her. It would be nice to feel his warmth and his strength close beside her all night long, to chase away the nightmares she anticipated once the lights were out and she was alone in the dark.

  By the time she was under the covers, the familiarity of everything around her had returned. Drew tapped on her door and opened it slightly when she said, “Come in.”

  He moved to the bedside and silently watched her for a long moment. Then he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “You look better now,” he murmured. “I can see some color in your cheeks.”

  “Are you still going to stay?”

  He smiled. “I am. I found a pillow and blanket where you said, in the hall closet.”

  Had she? She couldn’t remember telling him that but knowing he would be in the next room eased her mind. “Drew?”

  He turned around on his way out of the room. “Yes?”

  “You saved my life.”

  He shook his head. “You’d have been fine, Grace. You just slipped. The water wasn’t over our heads.”

  “But it was strong. I couldn’t fight against it.”

  “We managed, Grace. Together.” He looked down at her for a long moment. “Sleep well. We’ll talk in the morning.” He switched off the lamp on her nightstand.

  After he closed the door, Grace lay for what seemed hours, forcing her mind away from the rush of water and suffocating blackness. None of her nightmares over Brandon equaled the intensity of those seconds underwater and for the first time she’d caught a glimpse of the panic and fear that he must have been feeling that night. She knew there was no way she could ever make up for what happened. No memorial would bring her cousin back. But she could do something. She could tell the truth to those who deserved to know. Her family—all of them. This revelation kept her awake most of the night. What finally lulled her to sleep was Drew’s calm face, his worried eyes and strong hands. The kind of hands Grace would like to have nearby, always.

  The aroma of coffee roused her next morning. She’d slept well after all and felt energized, relieved to have her old self back. She slipped into sweatpants and a T-shirt, wanting something cozy for the talk she knew she had to have with him. Wanted to have. If anyone could listen without interruption or judgment to what she’d done all those years ago, it would be Drew. Still, Grace hesitated at her bedroom door. She wasn’t certain about the judgment part. What if a teeny seed of doubt about her—worry about the kind of person she was now—were to spring up in him and ruin everything? What if he didn’t like her anymore, afterward?

  She took a deep breath and opened the door.

  * * *

  HE KNEW HE needed to give her plenty of time. They’d finished the coffee and scones he’d brought back to her apartment from Mable’s and had a brief debate about immersing his cell phone in a bowl of dried rice.

  “What’ve you got to lose?” she’d teased, grinning, and he felt such relief that the Grace he knew and loved—yes, he told himself, it is love—was back. When she suggested they leave the kitchen for the sitting area, he guessed by her sober expression that she was ready to talk.

  “This is a long story,” she began, “going back to the summer I turned fifteen. Seventeen years ago. I had just finished my freshman year and was pretty insecure in those days. I was a bit of a nerd, with few friends. Reading was my pleasure and main pastime. But a girl in tenth grade took pity on me toward the end of the school year. She started talking to me and soon we were friends. She lived near the beach with her mother. You must have seen her place. It’s all boarded up now. I heard her mother is in a nursing home in Portland.”

  Drew nodded, trying to keep his focus through this meandering start. “Uh-huh,” was all he said, reluctant to distract her further with any question or comment. Maybe she needed to begin this way.

  “Her name was—is—Cassie Fielding and I worshipped her. She was daring and unafraid to speak her mind to anyone, like boys and sometimes even teachers. She was popular, too, in her own way although looking back now, I think some kids might have been intimidated by her. But I would have done anything to keep her friendship. I have to emphasize that fact, so maybe you can understand what happened later.”

  That got Drew’s attention. “Okay,” he said.

  “There was another girl, too. Ella Jacobs. She was a summer kid. In those days, there were two groups—the full-time residents, like me and Cassie, and the summer kids who came for July and August every year. They were regular vacationers and we all got to know and accept them. But at the same time, they weren’t from the Cove. The difference between us was always there. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I think so. We had something similar back in Iowa. The farm kids and the townies.”

  “Yes
! We were the townies, here all year round in good weather and bad, with families and neighbors going through hard times, like divorces or unemployment and sicknesses. We knew all about each other whereas what we knew about the summer kids was only what we saw or heard during vacation. They told us things about their lives in the cities they came from, but they were things we could only see in our imaginations.”

  Drew suppressed his impatience. Her story, however convoluted it seemed, needed to be told—and heard.

  After a pause—perhaps to gather her thoughts?—Grace continued.

  “I was actually friends with Ella long before Cassie. Every summer for years her parents rented a cottage that my father owned. He’s sold most of them now, but back then he had a few near the beach that he rented out. I think we started being friends when I was about twelve and she was thirteen.” Grace suddenly smiled. “We met here. Well, downstairs in Henry’s bookstore. She loved to read, too, and she was buying a book that I had just finished. I recommended the book and we left the store together, talking about our favorite authors. And that was it. We just clicked. We were together almost every day and at the end of the summer, we traded the books we hadn’t read, so we’d have something new to read when we had to say goodbye after Labor Day.” Grace stopped then. “Is there more coffee? I feel like a boost.”

  “I can make some for you.”

  “I’ll do it. I need a break.” She got up from beside him on the sofa and stretched.

  Drew watched her lithe body move and had an abrupt image of the Grace from last night—smaller and forlorn—lost in her fog of shock. He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her but knew she had to finish her story. He followed her into the kitchen while she brewed another pot of coffee and was content to simply observe her every move—the quick opening and closing of cupboards, squinting at the water level in the glass coffeepot before pouring the water into the machine, flicking the on switch and spinning around unexpectedly to face him and quip, “Too bad the scones are gone.”

  He smiled. “I could get some more.”

  She pursed her lips. “No. I need to finish this.” Then she glanced away. “Otherwise all of what I felt last night will be for nothing.”

  Drew tensed, remembering her cryptic remark about being punished. The story that minutes ago was ordinary now seemed ominous. The coffee maker beeped then and the chance to ask her about that was gone.

  “Do you need to go somewhere today? I mean, is it okay if I finish?” she asked, pouring their coffee. She raised her head to look at him.

  He saw the uncertainty in her face and wondered whether she was hoping for a reprieve. Or maybe she was worried about how he was processing what he’d heard so far? He chose his words carefully. “If you feel you want or need to tell me what happened that summer, Grace, then you should.”

  “Thanks. Yes, I do need to.”

  He saw the determination in her face and wanted so much to take her into his arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. At least, that was his hope.

  When they took their coffees back to the living room, she sat in the armchair opposite the sofa where he was sitting. Drew wondered if she wanted that small distance between them as a kind of buffer.

  She started where she’d left off—the summer that Cassie became the third person in the Grace and Ella friendship. Drew imagined what was about to unfold—a teenage threesome of friends could be complicated.

  “Cassie wasn’t into books the way Ella and I were, but she was fun and so was Ella. They had that in common. The three of us were always together, especially at my house.” She paused. “Ella and Cassie were my friends and I had been the link, the one who connected the three of us until suddenly... I wasn’t.”

  Although Drew was guessing where this familiar tale was heading, he couldn’t figure out how it led to the lighthouse and Grace’s cousin Brandon.

  “It’s funny to think about now but at the time it definitely wasn’t. See, I wasn’t the one attracting their interest, it was Ben. What made things worse was that I didn’t know about Cassie’s feelings for him either, until after. She kept dropping hints about Ella, but I didn’t want to believe her. When I realized Cassie was right, I was angry at Ella and at the same time, jealous of my brother who was getting her attention.”

  Grace gave a sad smile. “So I was all too willing to go along with Cassie’s plan.” She brought her hands to her face, massaging her forehead and temples.

  He could see the toll the memories were taking on her and wondered if she wanted to take a break. He was about to suggest that when she said, “That’s why I agreed to take notes to Ella and Brandon. It was supposed to be a practical joke, but it ended up a tragedy. For all of us.”

  Her voice caught. Drew thought about getting her a glass of water but decided not to. Instead he sat still, hearing the rest of it and forcing his mind away from the pain in her eyes. When she reached the part where Brandon and Ella realized they’d been tricked, Drew leaned forward on the sofa.

  “We ran back to the bonfire and a few minutes later, Ella showed up. She didn’t say a word to us, just tossed her note into the flames and left. I never saw her again.” Grace’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Cassie and I weren’t friends any longer either.”

  Drew watched her struggle to compose herself.

  “I thought Brandon had gone home, but he didn’t. No one knows for sure what happened but the police inquiry and coroner’s inquest determined that he might have gone to the lighthouse—it wasn’t always locked in those days and teens often hung out there. Then the tide came up and he tried to swim to shore but got caught in the currents.” She stopped to catch her breath. “Just like we did last night. Except Brandon had no one to save him.”

  Drew closed his eyes. This is what her insistence on the memorial is all about and why it means so much to her. Atoning in some way for her part in a thoughtless, childish prank. He heard her softly cry. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and Drew saw the weight of that seventeen-year-old burden in the slump of her shoulders and the resignation in her eyes. He knew that, like his own role in the botched sea rescue, there was no way back for either of them.

  “Grace,” he murmured. “You were fifteen. You were a kid. It’s all right.” He got up from the sofa to pull her up into his arms, shushing her weeping until it finally stopped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CONFESSION WAS SUPPOSED to be good for the soul and Grace did feel lighter inside. At least she was no longer the only person to know how much she regretted her actions seventeen years ago. Now there was Drew. If only confession could also erase memory.

  Somewhere in the apartment a cell phone was ringing. Grace wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and looked up at Drew. “Yours or mine?”

  “Well, mine is sitting in a bowl of rice so...”

  “And wherever mine is now, it can—”

  “Go to voice mail.”

  Laughter was good, too, she decided. She moved out of his embrace and arched her back, yawning.

  “Tired?” Drew asked, grinning. He tugged her back to him, kneading the tension at the nape of her neck.

  Leaning against him, Grace murmured, “Relieved.”

  He gently turned her around. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “Why are you thanking me?”

  “For trusting me enough to tell me your story.”

  For loving you enough, Grace wanted to add. “I do trust you, even more now that you know my story. Only two other people do and neither of them is likely to return to the Cove.”

  “So where do you go from here?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?” But she knew what he meant.

  “What’s your next step?”

  “My parents,” she whispered. “And Ben. Then Aunt Jane and Suzanna.”

  “Want me to go with you? Whenever you decide to speak to the
m, I mean.”

  “No. But thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I need to do this on my own.”

  “I figured you might want to but if you change your mind...”

  She leaned toward him, kissing him on the cheek. “I won’t. I can’t. In fact, I’ll call them right now.” She stepped away from his arms and started to walk away. “Where is my phone, by the way? I think you had it last night.”

  “On the kitchen table. You were a bit out of it last night. I wanted to keep it handy in case I had to call emergency or something.”

  His smile wasn’t reassuring. “Um, I hope I didn’t embarrass myself.”

  “Not at all. The aftereffects of...you know...what happened. I was worried.”

  “The whole night was like a movie, wasn’t it?”

  “A bad one,” he said quietly. “Until this morning.”

  “Yes.” She was afraid to ask the question that had been troubling her since her talk. Do you feel differently toward me now? No, she decided. Sometime soon I’ll ask him that but not yet. “I should listen to my voice mail,” she said, heading to the kitchen for her phone.

  There were three messages. Two from her mother. “I didn’t hear back from you about dinner today. I hope everything’s all right. Maybe you’ll come for lunch instead? To talk about your plans for the lighthouse?” And the last one from Ben, who said, “Mom’s worried because you haven’t replied to her messages. Can you call her, please? And I emailed you that report.”

  Drew came into the kitchen while she was listening and when she finished, she said, “Mom’s asked me to lunch today—to talk about the lighthouse. Ben was calling to say she was worried when I didn’t reply. I guess it’s back to real life now.”

  His face was thoughtful, but he didn’t respond to her mention of the lighthouse. What had happened yesterday—the unexpected meeting with the Historical Society and Drew’s boss—had yet to be discussed. Grace waited a few more minutes for him to comment about their unfinished business.