Devlin's Grace (14 page)

Lauren grasped her hand for a
moment. “They did and I don’t think anyone knew he’d been called it
before.
 
I don’t have any idea what
happened to him in Iraq, but it had to be terrible.
 
Despite his mom’s drunken cruelty, Devlin
went into the Marines a different man, happier, more confident.
 
He came home different.
 
I’m afraid having another person or group use
the same nickname wounded him again.”

“I’m sure it did,” Gracie
said.
 
 
Inwardly, she vowed no one would ever hurt him
so deeply again, not if she could help it.
 
And if she could, she’d restore joy to the day he was born.

Although Halloween fell on a
weekday, Gracie skipped class, a rarity for her, and took the day off at
work.
 
She begged the car from Devlin the
night before and without even asking why, he handed her the keys.
 
Although he acted disappointed, Gracie didn’t
spend the night, but headed home instead.
 
He’d get over it, she rationalized, and when he learned what she planned
to do on his birthday, he’d understand.

On the 31
^st
, despite
the weather, Gracie rose early.
 
She
finished packing up everything in her apartment and carried out her boxes,
bags, and clothes on hangers to Devlin’s Ford.
 
Then she spent an hour scrubbing the place until it sparkled.
 
After it met her satisfaction, Gracie headed
downstairs to turn in her key to the landlord.
  
Once he inspected it, he forked over her fifty dollar cleaning deposit,
grunted how sorry he was to lose her as a renter, and hung a
For Rent
placard in the window.
 

At Devlin’s place Gracie carried
her stuff inside and managed to integrate it with his.
 
She gave the place a going over and brought
along a few things to make the place homier, things like scented candles, a
couple of throw pillows, her rag rugs from the other apartment, and two posters.
 
One depicted a Honda Magna like Dev’s, the
other a beautiful sunset.
 
Her original
plan included baking a cake, but by the time she’d settled in there wasn’t
time.

She didn’t want to pick one up at
Wal-Mart because Devlin worked at one so Gracie found a small bakery not far
from where she had lived.
  
The triple
layer yellow cake – golden vanilla on the menu – with a rich chocolate frosting
would be perfect.
 
Decorated with a few
fondant bows in blue and green, Gracie asked them to write
Happy Birthday, Devlin
across the top.
 
Since she wanted to make a homemade meal for
him, Gracie headed for a supermarket.

Drawing on memory and the things
she’d cooked back on the farm, Gracie created a meatloaf from scratch.
 
She cheated on the mashed potatoes by buying
instant and did the same with gravy in a jar.
 
By the time Devlin would arrive home from work, expecting to walk into
an empty house, she’d have the meatloaf baking in the oven.

Gracie walked through the place,
one room at a time, adjusting to the idea she lived here now.
 
If Devlin hated her surprise, she guessed she
could rent a studio apartment somewhere, but she’d hate it.
 
Besides, she thought he’d be happy when he
found out.
  
According to his schedule,
Dev would get off shift around three-thirty or four.
 
By four-thirty when he wasn’t home, Gracie
started getting nervous.
 
When he hadn’t
arrived by five, her anxiety records hit new highs.
 
Steady rain continued to fall and the wet
streets could be slick in spots.
 

Worried he could’ve taken a spill
she reached into her pocket for her cell phone and couldn’t find it.
 
Before she could look for it Gracie heard the
unmistakable sound of his motorcycle pulling up outside.
 
A smile spread over her face as she peeked
out the window, watching until she saw Devlin’s face.

A frown line furrowed his
forehead into two halves and his mouth drooped in a scowl.
 
As he parked the bike and headed toward the
house, Devlin’s face radiated distress. Uncertain now if his birthday created
so much angst, if she should have made plans, Gracie hesitated.
 
She almost retreated into the kitchen where
delicious aromas escaped, but concern trumped her desire to flee.
 
Before Devlin reached it, she rushed to open
the door to let him in.

“Hi,” she said.
“Happy birthday, hon.”

Devlin halted and stared at
her.
 
His expression shifted from gloom
to shock in seconds.
 
His deep eyes
caught hers and held them.
 
“So you were
here all the time?” he asked, in a strained voice.

Gracie nodded. “I’ve been here
most of the day. What happened? You looked unhappy when you came home.”

“Unhappy?” Devlin’s voice shot up
the scales. “God damn it, yes, I was miserable.”

“Why?” she asked, noting he’d
used past tense.

Standing still, he shook his head
slightly. “I got off work and thought I’d go by and see you at the
bookstore.
 
Today’s not my favorite day
and I thought visiting you might cheer me up.
 
But you weren’t there.
 
One of the
other clerks, Sarah, Sasha, something said you called in sick today.
 
You left early last night. I thought maybe
you hadn’t felt well then, so I went to your apartment to check on you.
 
I knocked and knocked until the landlord
hollered up the stairs you’d moved out this morning.”

He paused and guilt ate her up
inside, gnawed at her belly like bad indigestion.
 
Devlin put his hands on her shoulders, as if
to reassure himself she was solid and real.
 
“So I thought you’d split,” he said, simple and soft. “I thought you
left, ran out on me.
 
I couldn’t figure
out what I might’ve done wrong.
 
I tried
to call your cell a dozen times, but you didn’t pick up.”

Gracie stepped forward and put
her arms around his neck.
 
“I’m sorry,
Devlin.
 
I never dreamed you’d go by work
or the other place.
 
I just wanted to
surprise you,
that’s
all.”

With a sigh deeper than a hand
dug well, he said, “You did.”

Her fancy plans ended up hurting
him, the opposite of what she intended and so she asked, “Are you mad?”

“Hell no,” Devlin said. “I’m glad
you’re all right and happy you’re here.
 
Jesus, Gracie, you scared the shit out of me.”

“I didn’t mean to, Dev.”

His arms caught her up and he crushed
her in a tight embrace.
 
“I thought you
were gone, girl, for good.”

By now Devlin must’ve figured it
out, but Gracie revealed her surprise. “I’m not – I’m here to stay.
 
I moved in.
 
It’s supposed to be my birthday present to you, Dev.”

Devlin relaxed his python tight
hold and whooped aloud.
 
Before Gracie
could think, he swept her from her feet and carried her into the house, her
arms still about his neck.
 
Once inside,
he kicked the door shut with one foot and kissed her with enough force to rob
her breath.
 
Just about the time Gracie
decided they’d make love before supper, Dev paused and sniffed the air.

“Did you cook something?”

“Meatloaf,” she confessed.

“It smells good,” he said. “I’m
hungry.”

“It’s ready if you want to eat
now.”

“Sure, soon as I wash up.”

They sat down at the wobbly
kitchen table with their plates.
 
Gracie
picked up her fork, but Devlin grasped her hands.
 
Although he usually didn’t, he asked a simple
blessing, and she chimed in at the end with “amen”.
  
Although she didn’t ask, he smiled. “It just
seemed like the right thing to do, okay? It’s no big deal.
 
I’m just relieved.
 
You don’t know how fucking worried I was
about you.”

Gracie could guess, but she shed
her guilt like worn out shoes. “I don’t care if you ask a blessing, Dev.
 
So you don’t mind I moved myself in today?”

His grin told her more than words
could. “I don’t mind.
 
It’s the best
birthday present I ever had, babe.
 
I
like it.
 
And I like the meatloaf, too.”

“Thanks,” she said.
 

The simple supper felt so right,
Gracie thought.
 
Her few plants, a couple
of African violets and one aloe Vera plant added homelike ambiance.
 
They rested in the south windowsill, and she
made a mental note to pick up a cheap tablecloth next time she went
shopping.
 
Devlin praised her simple fare
and meant it.
 
“I hope you saved room for
cake,” she said when she pulled out the bakery dessert.

“Did you make it, too?” Devlin
asked, admiring the fancy frosting and the bright bows made out of fondant.

She laughed. “I can bake a cake,
but I can’t decorate one like this.
 
No,
I picked it up at a little shop.
 
Do you
like it?”

“Yeah,” he said and sounded
sincere. “I haven’t had one in years.
 
At
least you didn’t get me one all tricked up with witches, goblins, and
pumpkins.
 
The few cakes I had as a kid
from a bakery were all Halloween style.”

The idea never entered her mind,
but there was something she hadn’t gotten. “I forgot candles,” she said,
contrite.

“I don’t need any,” Devlin said.
“But you can sing
Happy Birthday
to
me to make up for it.”

Bashful about singing, Gracie
tried to talk her way out of it, but he insisted so she sang, cheeks flaming
hot.
 
Then they shared some scrumptious
cake.
 
As she cleared the table and
cleaned up, Gracie thought Devlin might wander into the living room, but he
remained in the kitchen, talking to her as she worked.
  
He turned one of the chairs backward and sat
in it, telling her about his day. It made Gracie feel like a real domestic
goddess.

Later when they settled down
together on the couch, his arm draped over her shoulders to watch some
television, the sense of home resonated.
 
Snuggled against him, Gracie reflected on the homes she’d known – the
old farmhouse where she grew up and on a lesser scale, her grandparents’
houses.
 
Her just vacated apartment provided
a refuge at the end of her long days, but it never quite felt like home, sweet
home.
 
Her first year in Springfield
spent on campus in the dorms proved to be a miserable experience.
 
Gracie disliked the communal bathrooms and
not one of her ever changing series of roommates ever became a friend.
 
None shared her likes or interests and each
moved on.
 
Devlin’s simple place managed
to feel like a home, more tonight than before.

Knowing she’d bunk here tonight
and every night in the foreseeable future pleased her, and Gracie could tell
Devlin liked the idea.
 
He hadn’t stopped
grinning since he realized she hadn’t abandoned him.
 

Sitting close together, she
sensed the contentment oozing from him.
 
If he’d been a cat, he’d have been purring.
 
In his current state, calm and happy, Devlin
wasn’t shaking a foot or wiggling fingers or any of the other things he often
did when agitated.
 
His laid back
attitude offered a balm to her spirits.
 
Although Gracie regretted frightening him earlier, his response hit deep
as an indication of how much he felt.
 
And she savored the knowledge, kept it close to her heart.

As they relaxed, half somnolent
and in accord, Gracie sighed with joy and said, “It’d be nice to do this every
night.
 
I like being here instead of at
the bookstore.”

Devlin gazed at her with
possessive delight. “I like having you around.
 
Why don’t you quit?”

Her first gut response equaled a
desire to do it, but her second sensible reaction was she couldn’t. “I wish I
could,” Gracie sighed.

“Why can’t you?”

“I need the money,” she said,
hearing in her tone the bitter echo of her mother’s voice.
 

“For what?”
Devlin asked.
 
“It’s your last semester and I thought you
have a scholarship.”

“I do,” Gracie said. “It pays
some of my tuition and part of my books, but it’s a long way from a free
ride.
 
This semester’s paid for though,
but there’s still my rent, utilities, and…”