Grace made a noise.
Trav found himself fighting a grin. That one hit, did it? He winked at her, which made her stiff expression soften. “I’m not bragging, but Dad wouldn’t have called me a troubled child. I got straight As.”
Grace rolled her eyes, but a small smile rested on her mouth, which made him oddly happy.
“So did Grace, eventually. But grades don’t tell the whole story, do they?” Mama G’s brow lowered. “I took care of a number of foster children, you know. Almost a dozen. I was always careful who I took.”
That was interesting. “How did you pick which ones to take?”
Grace, who’d been toying with her spaghetti, looked up at this, her gaze locked on Mama G. “I’ve always wondered that.”
“I had a method.” Mama G took a sip of water. “I took the ones who needed me the most. Grace needed me. And at the time, I needed her.”
“You needed me?” Grace gave an odd laugh. “I wasn’t an easy child. No one needed trouble like that.”
“There are no easy children,” Mama G said calmly, adding parmesan to her spaghetti. “I thought you’d already figured that out.”
Grace’s gaze dropped to her plate, and she seemed to be thinking this through.
Suddenly, Trav felt as if he’d stumbled into someone else’s conversation. He cleared his throat. “It takes a big heart to take in foster children.”
“It does. But I’ve never regretted a moment. Some were harder to deal with than others. Some would stay for years, some for days, and you’d love them as well as you could. And then, when the time came, you’d pack their bags, kiss their foreheads, and send them back home.”
“I can’t imagine having to let them go like that.” To be honest, he’d never considered it. “It must have been hard for both you and the foster kids.”
“Foster angels,” she said softly.
A crease appeared between Grace’s brows.
“So much pain.” Mama G shook her head. “You could see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices.”
Grace cleared her throat. “I’m sure Travis doesn’t want to hear about foster kids.”
“Sure I do.” He smiled at Mama G. “You gave those children a valuable gift.”
“It wasn’t one-way,” Mama G said sharply. “We helped each other. I gave them stability and love, and they gave me hope and laughter, and much, much more.” She put down her fork. “Let me tell you about Grace.”
“No, no,” Grace muttered. “Mama G, don’t—”
Mrs. Giano looked surprised. “Why not?”
“There’s no need. He doesn’t want to hear this.”
Oh, but he did. So much. “Please don’t stop on my account.”
Grace shot him a sour look, but he just grinned.
“He needs to hear this,” Mama G said stubbornly. She locked her dark gaze on him, leaned forward, and said, “Grace is like you.”
He had a fork of spaghetti halfway to his mouth, but he lowered it. “Like me?”
“She’s angry, too. Angry at life. At fate. Which does one no good, you know. But when one has suffered, been left, abandoned, over and over and—”
“Mama G,” Grace muttered, her face red. “Please. That’s enough.”
Trav had been a platoon leader for a couple of years, long enough to see through the facades of many of the men he’d led. The second he’d laid eyes on Grace Wheeler, he’d known she was strong, opinionated, and sharp-edged. It was in the way she talked, moved, spoke, and yes, even looked. And now he knew why. She’d come from a place of pain, and she’d fought her way free and was determined to never return.
He admired that. A lot.
“Of course, Grace has reason to be angry.” Mama G picked up her fork, her gaze resting on Trav. “Just as you do.”
Trav discovered that while he didn’t mind Mama G talking about Grace, he did mind it when she talked about him. “No offense, but you don’t know much about me.”
“Ha!” She pointed her fork at him, her eyes narrowing. “Sleep eludes you the way a cat runs from a snarling dog.”
He blinked.
“You don’t sleep, so you get angry.” Mama G turned her attention back to her plate and slowly twirled her fork in her spaghetti. “It’s sad, but life is not fair. I sometimes think it was never supposed to be. Life is made up of moments, good and bad. But while you don’t get to pick all the moments, you do get to pick which ones you cling to.”
“It’s not that easy,” Grace said, her voice sharp.
“Let me tell you something, sweetheart.” Mama G reached over and placed her hand over Grace’s. “I once knew two children, two beautiful little girls, who’d experienced the exact same agonies in life. No difference at all. Parents who didn’t care. A mother so selfish she couldn’t do her job. Those girls were abandoned by adults who knew better. Then they were thrown into a cold and callous system and transferred from home to home to home and school to school to school, labeled as troubled by teachers and mentors alike, and cruelly mocked by the other children they met. And yet one would turn out good, and one bad. Why? Because one chose to cling to the dark moments, while the other one clung to the light.”
“Oh lord.” Grace sent an embarrassed glance at Trav. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it?” Mama G patted Grace’s hand. “Eat your spaghetti, dear.”
Grace looked at Mama G’s hand where it rested on hers.
Trav watched a gambit of emotions cross Grace’s face—anger, embarrassment, worry—but behind it all was love. She dearly loved this strange, confused old lady.
Mama G turned her dark gaze on him. “Why are you so mad, young man? What makes you angry?”
Grace turned to look at him, the question reflected in her gaze.
“I don’t know.” He put down his fork, and although he hadn’t planned to, he found himself answering her. “I’m more sad, I think. I guess that’s most of it. I had men who looked up to me and counted on me and I thought I had things in hand. That they were safe. That we were all safe and—” He shook his head. “It was a myth. We were never safe.”
“That’s a hard lesson to learn,” Mama G agreed serenely. “Life is full of surprises, and not all of them are good.”
He couldn’t argue with that. “So here I am, back home. I’ve been alone since my dad died, except for my friends. I guess I’m just waiting.”
Mama G tilted her head to one side. “For what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’ll figure it out.”
Mama G nodded thoughtfully, and the silence, already heavy, lengthened.
But it was a peaceful silence. Trav found that he didn’t mind this sort of quietness.
Grace stirred. “We should go. Mama G, are you done?”
“No, stay,” Trav said.
Both women looked at him, various degrees of surprise in their eyes.
His face grew warm. He hadn’t meant to sound so demanding, but damn it, he didn’t want them to go. It had been so long since he’d had dinner in his kitchen like this, with people who made him feel as if he were a part of a family. Their family. And it felt . . . right. He felt safe. Alive. Connected. It was an odd feeling, and he wondered if Sarah might understand it better than he did. She came from a huge family, and few people were as attuned to the nuances of family life as Sarah. Maybe he’d stop by the library tomorrow and see what she thought.
Mama G nodded. “She has a lot of answers, doesn’t she?”
Grace frowned, confused, while Trav stared at Mama G.
Good God, did she read my mind? Surely not. He pushed his plate away. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, I know things. I always have.” She pushed her plate away as well, having barely touched the spaghetti. “I’m losing my memories but I think I might be gaining other people’s. Has that ever happened to you?”
“No. Not that I know of.”
“That’s good. It’s not much fun, you know. In fact, it’s a little
scary.”
“Well!” Grace stood. “Thank you for having us. Dinner was delightful, but we should get home.”
Mama G looked around, as if searching for a clock. “What time is it?”
“Time to go,” Grace said briskly. “Dinner’s over and we should get home.”
“Is it late?” Mama G suddenly looked tired. “I’d like to go to bed.”
Trav started to stand, but Grace threw up a hand. “That’s okay. I’ve got this.” She didn’t spare him another glance as she helped Mama G from her seat.
Mama G went willingly, shuffling along as if almost too tired to walk.
Trav stood. “I’ll walk you home. I—”
“No,” Grace said sharply. “You’ve done more than enough.” She had her arm around Mama G and they were already heading for the door. “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder.
But as Grace opened the door, Mama G looked back. “You need to heal faster,” she told him.
“Mama G—” Grace started.
“No,” he said. “Let her talk.”
Mama G looked from him to Grace, and then back. “You’ve both let your anger take over your lives, but it’s time for that to stop.” She locked eyes with Trav and then put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “One day, you’ll need to be there for her.”
Grace flushed. “Don’t—”
“Shush.” Mama G leaned toward Trav. “You and Sarah both. And Daisy, too. You will need to be there together. Do you understand?”
“Mama G,” Grace muttered.
Trav, astonished at the sincerity in the old woman’s dark gaze, nodded.
Mama G examined his face, looking for something. Whatever it was, she must have found it, for she broke into a huge smile. “You’ll know when.” She turned to Grace and patted her cheek. “Now we can go home.”
And with that, she turned and shuffled out.
Grace sent him a pained look. “I’m sorry. That was . . . It was weird, but she’s not—” She shook her head and then left, closing the door behind her.
Helpless to do more, Travis stood, staring at the closed door for a long, long time.
And then he went back to his plate of spaghetti and sat, the golden glow of the lamp overhead drawing a solitary circle around him and the empty table.
CHAPTER 13
Grace
The next morning, Grace sat in her car in Sarah’s driveway and waited. It had taken a lot of discipline to get up early enough to be here, especially after Mama G’s late-night run next door to cook dinner. “Spaghetti in the middle of the night,” Grace muttered. “Who does that?”
Between Mama G’s odd pronouncements and Trav’s quiet intensity, it had been an uncomfortable dinner. Grace had to give her neighbor credit, though. He’d been more than kind and had gone out of his way to make Mama G feel safe and welcome, even after she’d started making prophetic statements like some sort of seer.
Grace leaned back in her seat and sighed. The whole thing had been unbelievably awkward. After she got Mama G home and back to bed, Grace had been too awake to sleep. And so she’d made herself some coffee, sat on the steps on her crooked porch, and did something she hadn’t done in forever—she watched the sunrise.
It had been beautiful. The night had taken on a pinkish morning glow that had gradually warmed to an orange and then a bright golden hue as it lit the tree-lined street, burnishing leaves, catching the glisten of the dew, shimmering across puddles left by yesterday’s rain, and highlighting the ornate trim work of the gorgeous houses. And as Grace watched the sun grow brighter and the neighborhood slowly come awake, she remembered what Mama G had said during their spaghetti dinner about clinging to the good things in life, rather than the bad. Mama G had made it sound easy, but Grace knew it took effort and a lot of love to find brightness in the middle of gloom.
As Grace drank her second cup of coffee, it dawned on her that perhaps the people of Dove Pond felt that way about their festival, that it was one of the good things that they clung to when life wasn’t going well. From what she could tell, it might well be the only thing they had left. That explained the anger they’d expressed when the budget had been cut.
And so, here she was, waiting on Sarah. Grace wanted to see the archives located in the basement of the library that Kat had mentioned at the café, but it was more than that. Seeing Trav sitting at that big table in his kitchen, looking so alone, had tugged at Grace’s heart. She knew he had friends, as she’d seen them coming and going throughout the weeks. But last night during dinner, she’d recognized him, one soul to another. He was private, quiet, intense, feeling everything deeply while trying not to. She was the same way. Mama G had been right about that: Grace and Trav were the same in many ways.
The door opened and Sarah stepped out onto the porch carrying her heavy tote bag. She came down the steps and had just reached the sidewalk when she saw Grace sitting in her car.
Sarah stopped in her tracks.
Grace picked up the two cups of freshly brewed coffee she’d brought with her and showed them to Sarah through the car window. Then Grace set the cups down and held up the bag of croissants. “See?” Grace said, rolling down her window. “I have snacks!”
Sarah smiled.
Grace grinned back, relief washing over her.
Sarah came down the rest of the walkway and opened the car door. “We’re carpooling?”
“Yes, please,” Grace said.
Without hesitating, Sarah climbed in, setting her heavy tote on the floorboard. “What’s in the bag?”
“Chocolate croissants. I got them from the Moonlight.”
“You drove there this morning?”
“I did. I got the coffee from there, too.”
“Wow. This is nice.” Sarah settled into her seat and was soon sipping her coffee. “I could get used to this.”
“Me too.” Grace smiled, put the car in reverse, and pulled out of Sarah’s driveway. “I wanted to talk to you.” Here we go, Wheeler. Let’s do this right. “I’m going to do something I really, really suck at. I’m going to apologize. I’ve been an ass. That’s all I can say.”
“You don’t owe me an apology.” Sarah pulled the croissants out of the bag. “I owe you one.”
“No, it was me. I just—”
“Grace, it was my fault! We should never have forced you back onto the committee. I knew Zoe was going to do something—I encouraged her to do it. I wanted you back on the committee so badly and I—”
“Damn it, Sarah. This is my apology, not yours!”
Sarah’s eyes widened.
Grace gave a reluctant laugh. “We are a crazy couple of women, aren’t we?”
Sarah’s smile returned. “Yes, we are. By the way, I saw what happened yesterday.”
“Which time?” Grace said drily. “Yesterday was a long day.”
“You know . . . The truck? The puddle?”
“Oh yes. That.” Grace shook her head. “Not my finest hour.”
“I’m sorry I laughed.”
Grace looked at Sarah. “You did?”
“Yes. I thought you saw me.”
Grace shook her head. “By the time I could see anything, you had your hand over your face. To be honest, I thought you were just sending me the message that I was getting what I deserved.”
“Oh no! But I shouldn’t have laughed, either. It was just . . .” She shrugged helplessly. “It was a really good splash.”
“Too good,” Grace agreed, smiling. “I told Kat it was like a movie splash. I saw her at the café later. But look, about who owes who an apology and the committee and the festival and all of it. I’ve been rude to you all week and it was stupid. I don’t know why I got so mad at you, rather than at Zoe and Kat. They had the most to do with it, but you . . . I guess I thought you were on my side.”
Sarah groaned. “See? I knew that’s what you thought. Grace, I was wrong. But I just wanted you to help us. We need you. The town needs you.”
Grace turned the car towa
rd Main Street. “I should be flattered by that. Heck, I am flattered by that. But . . . well, it hurt.”
“Which is why I should apologize.”
“No. You all were right when you said that if you hadn’t pulled that stunt, I wouldn’t have taken back the chairmanship. I didn’t really give you a choice, so it’s my fault. I walked into that first meeting and threw the folder at Zoe and left. At the time, it felt like the right thing to do, but I was wrong. To be honest, I’m sort of glad I’m back in charge.”
“Really?”
“Now that I know the real issues with the town’s finances, I have something more important to do than all of that boring data entry. I think I can help. I may not be here long enough to fix things completely, but I can at least get you all started.”
Sarah’s smile had disappeared. “I hate it when you talk about leaving. You should stay. You really should.”
Grace shook her head, smiling. “That’s not going to happen. But while I’m here, I should at least commit.”
“To what?”
“To this town. To the committee. And to being a good friend.” Grace turned the car onto Main Street. “I’ve never really had a friend, you know. Not like other women do, someone to talk to and share stuff with. I’m sort of new to this, so I’m going to make mistakes.”
“But we’re friends? You mean that?”
Sarah looked so happy that Grace laughed. “Yes, I mean it. We’re also officially carpooling and I’ll bring the snacks next week.”
“Deal.” Sarah put a napkin on Grace’s knee and placed a chocolate croissant on it. “I have to admit something, too.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve been a little jealous of you.”
“Of me? What on earth for?”
Sarah looked at her croissant and she said slowly, “I was jealous because growing up, I always thought I was going to be the one to save Dove Pond.” Sarah raised her gaze to Grace. “But it’s not going to be me. It’s going to be you.”
“Hold on there! I didn’t say I’d save the town. I said I’d get you all going in the right direction. That’s all I can do. I can’t save anything right now, not even myself.”
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