His Saving Grace

by Janice Carter

  “I better call Mom now and tell her I can make it for lunch.” She kept her eyes on Drew, but he simply nodded.

  As she turned to go to her bedroom, he suddenly asked, “Do you want me to wait for you here?”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be, but we still need to talk later. You know...”

  “Yes,” he said, keeping his eyes on hers. He didn’t speak again for a frustrating few seconds. Then, “I think I’ll head back to Portland. I have some business to finish up but I’ll be back, I promise. Later today or maybe tomorrow.”

  Grace hid her disappointment. There wasn’t time to continue their talk about the lighthouse, but a sign from him about his intentions would have bolstered her spirits, especially now that she was about to face the biggest challenge of her life—admitting to her family what she’d done seventeen years ago.

  “Okay,” was all she said. On her way to the bedroom, she heard him gathering his things and by the time she’d changed, he was gone.

  An hour later she was sitting at her parents’ kitchen table and biting her fingernails.

  “I haven’t seen you do that since you were a teenager,” her mother remarked as she popped a quiche into the oven. “And in spite of what Ben might have told you, I wasn’t worried because you didn’t answer my calls last night. I wanted to know before I went to the trouble of making this.” She gestured to the oven and the quiche inside it.

  But Grace knew otherwise. She’d heard the relief in her mother’s voice an hour ago when she returned her phone call. “How long till the quiche will be ready?” she asked.

  “About forty-five minutes. Why, are you hungry?”

  “I can wait, but when is Ben coming?”

  “I told him noon and it’s almost that now. I always give him some leeway, you know, because he’s so seldom punctual.”

  “True enough,” Grace said. “And Dad?”

  “He’s upstairs. He’ll come down when everyone’s here. What’s this all about, dear?”

  “I have something to tell everybody but not until Dad and Ben are here.”

  “Does it have to do with tearing down the lighthouse? Because Ben has some thoughts about that.”

  “It kind of does, but not the tearing down part.”

  Her mother’s frown prompted Grace to add, “You’ll understand.”

  “If you say so though right now, I’m very puzzled and these ambiguous remarks don’t help at all.”

  Grace sighed, wishing she hadn’t said anything. There was still the quiche to be eaten, unless she told them beforehand. No. Then no one would have an appetite once they heard the truth and her mother had gone to some trouble to bake the quiche. She sighed again. She didn’t even like quiche that much.

  Lunch was eventually consumed and in record time even for the Winterses, Grace thought as she watched Ben take their empty plates to the sink. Meals had often been anxiety-inducing when she was a teen—rushed, sometimes fraught with tension or outright arguments. Most of them centered on Ben, whose impatience and occasional temper matched his father’s.

  But except for small talk, this meal had been mostly silent. No one wanted to raise the lighthouse situation, which was okay with Grace because she didn’t want to be sidetracked from her real purpose in coming for lunch. When her mother asked if anyone wanted tea and they all shook their heads, Grace knew it was time.

  “I need to tell you something,” she began when her mother and Ben were sitting down again. “And it’s not about the lighthouse.” She knew they were anticipating a different story. She took a moment to calm her nerves, picturing Drew’s face and his steady, encouraging eyes.

  “It’s about Brandon.” She hesitated, noting her father’s frown, took another deep breath and said, “It wasn’t Ella Jacobs who sent him the note about meeting her that night near the lighthouse. It was me.”

  Much later, Grace realized that for the first time in ages no one in the family had interrupted her and, ironically, she’d been wishing someone had. Their silence had been unnerving, though facial expressions and eyes had revealed much—shock, horror, disappointment. Not blame and for that, she was grateful. But when she finished, they did have questions.

  Her mother pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair and cheek. “Why didn’t you tell us right away?”

  “I was afraid to. I thought you’d be angry or even worse. When Ben told me he found the note I’d left for Brandon and gave it to the police, I knew I should have said something but I was afraid. Then I heard that Ella was questioned and I thought if they knew Cassie and I were responsible, we’d be arrested. I don’t know why Ella didn’t tell the police about us. Maybe she tried to but because she’d thrown her note into the fire, she couldn’t prove anything.”

  Her mother shook her head. “Oh, Gracie, how frightened you must have been. I wish you’d told us, so we could have helped you.”

  “What were you afraid of?” her father wanted to know. “There was no actual crime here. Just a very unfortunate decision to play a mean trick on your cousin.”

  “I was fifteen. I didn’t know anything about criminal acts. I just knew that something I did led to Brandon’s death and I thought you would never forgive me,” Grace said, watching her brother pacing about the kitchen.

  “It wasn’t even your idea,” her mother went on. “That girl, Cassie. She had some kind of control over you as I recall.”

  “Cassie didn’t make me do it, Mom.” It was difficult for them to accept what she’d told them without editing her story, lessening her role in it.

  Suddenly Ben spun around to face her. “Ella had nothing at all to do with this whole thing? She was basically a victim, too, of that—I won’t call it a joke because there was nothing funny about it—that thoughtless plan you and Cassie cooked up.”

  Grace flinched. She hadn’t expected this reaction from Ben, who’d always been her staunchest supporter in almost everything. But of course, she ought to have factored in Ella.

  “Ella was—” he said no more, leaving the room and seconds later, slamming the front door.

  Evelyn turned to Grace. “He’ll be okay. He’s going through a rough time right now with his divorce and—” she shifted her gaze briefly toward her husband “—at work. Don’t worry about him.”

  Grace figured he wouldn’t be the only person in the family, or even the town, to be angry at her.

  “You’ll have to tell Jane and Suzanna,” Charles said.

  “I plan to. I phoned Suzanna before I came here and asked her to have Aunt Jane come to the Cove for an important meeting. Something we couldn’t discuss on the phone. She thinks it’s about the memorial.”

  Evelyn looked at Grace, sitting on the edge of the chair across from her. “Do you want to stay here for a while? Have a rest in your old bedroom, perhaps?”

  Grace struggled to smile. “Thanks, Mom, but I should go back to my place.”

  “And what about the lighthouse being torn down? Is it really going to happen? Can Drew do anything about it?”

  Grace shook her head. “I don’t know, but maybe not. I got the impression his boss told him it had to be torn down.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. He can’t go against his boss.”

  “I guess not. Anyway, I don’t think Drew would ever consider that.” Maybe not even for me, she thought.

  “He’s nice. I like him and I hope we see more of him.”

  Me, too. Though her earlier optimism about any kind of future with Drew Spencer was slowly fading. There was still the lighthouse problem to be solved.

  Her father suddenly cleared his throat and stood. He’d never been the kind of father to reveal his emotions—unless they were connected to impatience or anger. “Think I’ll go have a nap,” he mumbled, but on his way out, he paused beside Grace and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You did well, Gracie. That took courage. Com
e and see us tomorrow. We can talk some more.”

  He left the room before Grace had a chance to speak. It was the first time in years that he’d used her childhood name. She looked at her mother and burst into tears.

  * * *

  DREW BOOTED UP his laptop as soon as he was back in his apartment. The drive to Portland had been a good opportunity to gather his thoughts. Well, he amended, some of them—the ones that hadn’t been devoted to Grace. Those had bombarded his weary mind basically the whole way. He was still processing her story, especially the part she played in it. The entire narrative was a compelling portrait of the teenage Grace. Gracie.

  He wished now he’d thought of something more to say than “you were only a kid,” but his focus had been on the regret in her eyes that he knew no words of comfort could erase. Experience had taught him that. Even now, a year after Southwest Harbor, he sometimes caught that same expression reflected back from his bathroom mirror. Perhaps there were no words anyway, only shoulders to lean on. Or cry on.

  Yesterday, Jim had asked for a revised report. Drew couldn’t recall his boss’s exact words. Something about keeping his eyes on the target, whatever that meant. They’d been talking about the conflict of interest with Grace, and Jim had leaped to the right conclusion, Drew thought.

  He stared glumly at the computer screen. What he was about to do could likely jeopardize his chance at the promotion. But it was no coin toss. There was only one solution to the problem Jim had mentioned. He began to type.

  Later that night Drew called Grace, after his phone had finally begun working.

  “You were right,” he said.

  “About what?”

  “The rice. I’m obviously using my phone right now. I wanted to find out how things went today with your parents.”

  Her hesitation worried him until she said, “Better than I imagined. Tomorrow I’ll call on my aunt and cousin while I still have the nerve.”

  “It’s not nerve, Grace. It’s courage.” She was quiet then and he thought he heard a sniffle. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I am...just that my father said almost the same thing and it was so unlike him that I spent most of the rest of the day thinking about him and all these random things from my childhood.”

  “We have lots of things to talk about ourselves, Grace.”

  Another silence. Then, “We do.”

  After he assured her he’d return to the Cove the next day, Drew ended the call. He took a few minutes to read over his revised report one more time before emailing it to Jim and going to bed.

  Early the next morning he was standing in front of Jim’s desk, squeezing his hands into fists and releasing them over and over behind his back while his boss read the print copy of the report.

  “I don’t check my email on the weekend unless I’m expecting something important. And you were supposed to be here tomorrow morning, not today,” Jim had announced at Drew’s question on entering the office moments ago.

  The terse reply hadn’t been a good sign and now that Jim seemed to be unreasonably slow going over the report, Drew’s anxiety level soared. His heart rate picked up and he guessed circles of perspiration were already visible in his uniform shirt.

  Finally, Jim set the report down and raised his head. But he took his time, clearly thinking before he spoke. Drew wasn’t sure whether that was promising or not. At least he hadn’t flung the paper back at him and ordered him from the room. That wasn’t Jim’s style.

  “It was obvious to me yesterday that you have feelings for Grace Winters. Now, I don’t know if they’re reciprocated and that’s none of my business, but I was worried that your judgment might be clouded by your emotions. Hence my decision to have you take another look at your report. I wanted to know how much it would change from your original one.”

  Drew cleared his throat. “I—”

  “I’m not finished, Drew. I can see that you have very wisely heeded my advice when I suggested yesterday that you keep your eyes on the target. This report tells me that you have done so.”

  “I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

  “The target was always the lighthouse, correct? Whether it ought to be torn down or sold.”

  Drew nodded.

  “I worried your personal target was to please Grace—her memorial plan. I know that’s important—for her at any rate—but I was looking for something more about the community in that town. Lighthouse Cove. What you’ve written here shows me how much you’ve come to like and care for it. I saw some of those feelings the other day when you were with the people from the Historical Society and that friend you’ve made—Henry. You’ve presented a solid case for the tower’s preservation, given the aftermath of that tragedy and its importance to the town.”

  Drew unclenched his fists. Every muscle in his body slowly relaxed as he listened to Jim, though his mind was racing far ahead, out of the office and halfway to the Cove before Jim finished reading.

  But then his boss looked up, frowning. “I see that a structural assessment has already been done, but not by one of our engineers. Did you authorize that?”

  Drew sensed he wasn’t off the hook yet. “Um, no, I didn’t, sir. It was arranged by a civilian.”

  “Ah. I’m thinking that civilian might have been someone you know?”

  If Drew hadn’t seen the glimmer of amusement in Jim’s eyes his anxiety might have reappeared. He nodded.

  “Okay, well perhaps you can get a copy of that report and send it to me.” Jim continued staring at the paper in his hand for what seemed an interminable moment to Drew. Then he raised his head and smiled. “All right then, I will endorse your report and add my personal recommendation, as well.” He studied Drew a minute longer. “But I ought to warn you, I can’t guarantee the success of your job application. Though I intend to support it.”

  “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that very much.”

  “Relax, Drew. You’ve done well. The town can apply to purchase the lighthouse and I’m sure you’ll be able to assist Grace with that.”

  Drew thought his boss had winked but decided later he must have been mistaken.

  * * *

  GRACE BELIEVED WITH all her heart that Drew would come back. He’d promised and although she still had so much more to learn about him, she knew he kept his promises. Even if they weren’t always in her favor. That was one of his traits she admired most. He was flexible when it came to plans or decisions, but not with principles or ethics.

  It had been a mixed-up morning, complicated further by information that left her already busy mind spinning. She’d noticed the slip of paper Becky had handed her yesterday, with the title of the book that had garnered rave reviews, and decided to order a few copies. This new interest in the bookstore surprised her and she wondered if it had something to do with Drew. Or the beginning of a future she’d never dared dream about.

  When she typed Always Be Mine into the Google search bar, a flurry of sites appeared and with them, the name E. M. Jacobs.

  Grace clicked on the author’s website and gasped. Ella Mae Jacobs. And there she was in some photographs—older, but even more beautiful—smiling confidently into the camera. Grace logged on to her book supplier’s website and ordered a dozen copies of the novel. She suddenly thought of Ben’s face when he realized Ella hadn’t been involved in the prank and his voice when he’d uttered her name. Perhaps there was something she could do about that—another way to make up for that day.

  But right now, she had a meeting to attend with her aunt and cousin. The stomach rumbling she had prior to talking to her parents was nothing compared to the stress headache, the clammy hands and rapid heartbeat she was experiencing as she set out for the hotel where they were waiting. Yesterday when she’d confessed to her parents, she’d feared their disappointment and questions she couldn’t answer—like how could you or why? But they were her par
ents. Forgiveness would come. With Brandon’s mother and sister, Grace had no such assurance.

  When the hotel receptionist told her to go on into Suzanna’s office, Grace had stood, her cold hand grasping the door handle, a full thirty seconds before opening it.

  Suzanna, sitting behind her desk, and Aunt Jane in a chair opposite, stopped whatever they’d been discussing to stare at Grace as she closed the door behind her.

  “Have a seat, Grace,” Suzanna said. “And some tea?” She gestured to the tea tray on the desk.

  Grace shook her head. She didn’t dare lose her momentum. “Thanks for coming, Aunt Jane. I know this is last-minute but it’s important and really couldn’t wait.”

  “Something about the memorial, dear?”

  “Not really, but kind of.” She took a deep breath, trying to focus on the main story rather than digress as she so often tended to do. “It’s about Brandon, but specifically what really happened the night he drowned.” She saw her aunt’s face pale. “I’m sorry that this is going to be painful for both of you—” she turned toward her cousin, whose face was bright red “—but I’ve kept this inside for seventeen years and I need to get it out. Not just for my own sake, but for all of us.”

  “Grace—”

  “Zanna, please, if I stop now I’m afraid I’ll lose my courage.”

  Jane reached out to pat her on the arm. “Go on, Gracie. We won’t interrupt.”

  “You know that Brandon went to the lighthouse that night because he had a note signed by Ella asking him to meet her on the path. He had a crush on her that summer. You probably didn’t know about that part and why would you? He was a teenager. But he confided in me early on. He didn’t realize that Ella had a crush on Ben. That scenario was the reason why my friend Cassie Fielding—maybe you remember her?” She looked at Suzanna, who was frowning. “Maybe not. She was younger than Ben and you were just finishing your freshman year at college. I think you stayed in Augusta that summer to work.”