Authors: Ann Warner
Ann Warner
S
ilky
S
tone
P
ress
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Published in the
United States of America
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission, except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical works or reviews.
Dedication
To my husband, partner, friend
.
Many friends and relatives have been supportive of my career as a writer. It is the encouragement of these special people that has helped me through the many rough patches every writer encounters.
My heartfelt thanks!
Evelyn Bowman
Michael Bowman
Shauna Buring
Jayne Close
Eugene Coats
Barbara DeSalvo
Elizabeth Eichel
Gary Grunewald
Kay Hartsel
Lois Kupferberg
Jean Nichols
Charles Pippenger
Rose Reifenberger
Kathy Steele
Andrea Wall
Delores Warner
Daphne Wedig
Dennis Worthen
Patti Worthen
I also wish to acknowledge Jason Black, who saw more clearly than I did the story
Absence of Grace
needed to be and helped me to see it as well.
Colorado Springs,
Colorado
“Hon...we need to talk.”
Her least favorite words, especially when they came from her mother.
“Michelle Marie, there’s something we...” The girl winced at the use of her given name, but that wince gave way to alarm at the sight of both her parents standing in the doorway to her bedroom.
Quickly, she reviewed the past month, searching for a transgression to explain their obvious distress. There was the paper airplane incident during honors English, but she’d already done her penance for that. So...could they have learned she planned to ditch the college wardrobe picked out by her mother with such love and determination? The boys had figured it out, and she’d threatened them with excruciatingly painful deaths if either of them said a word. Still, a clothes contretemps would hardly explain her father’s upset.
Her mom sat on her bed, while her dad hovered. “You know that fainting episode Josh had?”
Joshua hit a home run in his last Little League game, but he’d passed out crossing home plate. Very scary. But he was fine after he drank some water and sat in the shade awhile—so what was the problem?
Her father’s hand came to rest on her mother’s shoulder. “The doctors did some tests.” He drew in a breath. “Joshua has leukemia.”
Leukemia
? It made her feel light and floaty, untethered, like that time she rode the roller coaster at Elitch’s and couldn’t stop shaking for an hour afterward. Joshua and Jason could be real pains. But that, after all, was younger brothers’ territory. She yelled at them sometimes. Okay, a lot. They were brats. But this...
Her throat tightened. “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?”
“Of course he is.” Her mother’s words sounded more incantation than certainty, and it didn’t help when her eyes filled with tears.
“What about Jase? Is he okay?”
“Of course,” her father said.
But there was no ‘of course’ about it. Joshua and Jason were identical twins.
“They were both tested,” her mother said. “Jason is fine.”
“I guess I better stay home. Not go to college.” They were the hardest words she had ever said. She’d been looking forward to college with a desperation she hadn’t admitted to anyone. Had barely admitted to herself. And that despite the fact Marymead, like her wardrobe and hairstyle, were more her mother’s choice than hers.
Her mother sat up straight and blew her nose. “Of course you’re going to college, Michelle. Joshua is going to be just fine.”
She should have felt relieved, but somehow she didn’t.
Marymead College - Mead,
Kansas
She left for college on a Greyhound bus. It wasn’t the original plan, but her mother had to be in Denver for Joshua’s treatment, and her father couldn’t take the time off. In some ways, though, taking the bus made it easier to leave.
Despite the fact her mother wasn’t there, she still wore one of the outfits her mother had chosen. But at the dinner stop in Limon, she replaced the full-skirted dress with slacks and a tailored shirt. She also cut her hair, something she hadn’t had the heart to do before. Peering into the wavy mirror in the bus stop restroom, she did the best she could, although the result wasn’t even close to the pixie cut she’d envisioned. But then, she was no pixie.
The boys were the ones who’d inherited her mother’s delicate bone structure. She took after her father. In his case, tall and awkward was endearing. On her? Well, suffice it to say she made it all the way through high school without anyone asking her on a date.
When she climbed back on the bus, the driver frowned and asked to see her ticket. He examined it thoroughly before waving her aboard, still frowning. She accepted that lack of recognition as a sign her transformation was a success.
Since there was nobody in the seat beside her, she turned sideways and curled her feet under her. Bits of snipped hair had slipped down her neck, and they itched, making it difficult to doze off. Although that was okay, since she didn’t really want to sleep. Instead she wanted to savor this transition from past to future.