Finding Grace: A Novel (17 page)

Lord have mercy,
he thought. His peace of mind was wrecked, and he
didn’t like it. Not one bit. Just yesterday morning, his life had
been so set, so organized. Hell, even his way of thinking had been
in perfect order. He had his daily routine that he stuck to, and a
limited list of subjects that he had to keep his mind on, and
beyond that, there wasn’t much in life he cared to worry about.
Now, he was suddenly a mental wreck…and it was all her
fault.

Grace Langdon, you little
witch
, he thought bitterly.
What kind of spell have you cast on me?

The last thing he wanted was to have a new
woman on his mind. But his head was filled with thoughts of her. It
had been that way from the first…ever since he’d first seen those
stormy blue-grey eyes at the train station. It was the eyes he kept
thinking of. It was said that eyes were windows into the soul, and
there was something fascinating behind that gaze of hers. The girl
was a puzzlement. He couldn’t figure her out. She looked so serene
and sweet…so passive. He recalled watching her through the window
yesterday, and again tonight. He recalled the way she looked… how
she looked like an eager little girl exploring her new world. But
when put upon, this wild little woman appeared, looking like she
could tear him apart. In his head he heard her cursing him.

Téigh trasna ort
féin
.

Suddenly he found himself grinning. His mood
was suddenly lifted as he thought of her, now with a streak of
admiration. Such spirit. Such bold honesty. How many people looked
him in the eye and dared to say exactly what they thought? It was
the second time she’d bluntly insulted him…this time more harsh
than the first. He started to wonder…

What would she do if he pushed her hard
enough?

It might be fun to find
out
, he thought. If he pushed her buttons a
little, what would she do? He was almost excited at the prospect.
The next time they met, he intended to provoke her… and to enjoy
every moment of it. As a boy, he’d prodded the occasional hornets’
nest with a stick, just to watch the swarm get angry. It was
childish…maybe even a little bit dangerous. But what fun it was.
And what was life without a bit of entertainment?

* * * * *

She stood at her bedroom window, staring out
at the moon. But the beauty of the night hardly concerned her. She
reached up to her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped her
eye.

Why had she ever, even for just a moment,
thought that Henry was different from any other man…from any other
person in general? Maybe he’d been right in telling her she didn’t
belong back stage, but why did he have to be so vicious about it?
He’d insulted her quite cruelly, and though she’d insulted him
right back, it hardly helped her feel better.

No one in the world had ever cared for her,
except for Jack and Alice. Henry was just as cruel as all the
others...and she'd been a fool to hope otherwise. Then why was her
heart hurting so badly?

What good was a heart…a thing so easily
broken? If only she could shut down her feelings. Love and
generosity... kindness and compassion. They were all empty notions,
doing more pain than good. And yet they remained in her soul,
imbedded like a deep root.

Well if they were to stay there against her
consent, she swore she would save such soft feelings for her
brother and sister-in-law. Who else had ever been worthy? No one.
It seemed that’s how it would always be.

Henry would certainly never get close to her
heart, if she had anything to say about it.

* * * * *

The next morning was a Sunday…a welcome day,
in her mind. One on which she hoped to meditate and find strength
in her faith.

The pilgrimage was rather different than the
one she’d known at home. The church was but a short walk away,
reached in only a few blocks. She found it lovely that everyone
walked there together, all dressed in their finest. The sense of
community was wonderful.

Their church was a much grander house of
worship than the little place she’d known back home. With its red
brick exterior, two stories with stained glass, and white columns
out front, it put her in awe as she stood looking up at it. But
when she went in, she found the same sense of reverence that she’d
known back home. She was glad to find such a familiar feeling in so
much that was unfamiliar.

There were many people to meet, most of whom
she remembered seeing the night before…and most of whom had been
tipsy. But she was polite, keeping her thoughts to herself.

As she, Jack and Alice were taking their
seats, two more familiar faces came around. Henry and Victoria
appeared and sat a few places behind them. Looking at them, she
recalled the notion that sinners sometimes got struck down by
lightning. And wickedly she thought…

I’d like to see that for myself.

Her face flushed with anger, remembering how
he’d acted. He deserved to be beaten senseless with a hymnal book.
But she knew she was in a sacred place and had to behave. So she
just did her best to ignore him.

But all through the service, she kept
feeling his eyes on her. She tried to think of other things…tried
to concentrate on a hymn or the reading of a passage. But still now
and then she felt his gaze, and for the first time in her life she
felt like daring to flee from a church service, just to get away
from him.

When the service was over,
there was the familiar ritual of people gathering outside to talk
and visit. She watched from the door as Jack and Alice spoke to
some of their friends. Not wanting to interfere, she took to
walking slowly through the empty sanctuary, enjoying the calm and
serenity that a church always gave her. Finding herself near the
piano, looking at it for a moment, she could not resist the urge to
sit down and play. But it wasn’t a hymn she performed. It was
Beethoven’s
Pathetique
, which Alice had once given her to play. It had become her
absolute favorite piece of music. As she played, she lost herself
in the beauty of the melody…and was so engrossed that at first, she
did not notice a figure approaching. When she realized it was
Henry, she chose to ignore him and continue, even though he came
right up and stood in front of the piano. Her brain suddenly
flashed a memory of a passage from
Pride
and Prejudice
…and with a smirk she quoted
it, certain he would not have the slightest idea what she was
talking about.

“
You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in
all this state to hear me? But I will not be alarmed. There is a
stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the
will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to
intimidate me.”

She smiled a little to
herself and thought,
Take that you big
bully.
But his reply came as a complete
shock.

“
I shall not say that you are mistaken. Because
you could not really believe me to entertain any design of alarming
you, and I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough
to know, that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing
opinions which in fact are not your own.”

Her eyes grew big. Even as a smug look came
to his face…one that said he had bested her challenge…she was too
stunned by what he’d said to pay attention to his look.

“
You know Pride and
Prejudice?” she asked, enthralled for a tiny moment…until he
replied with distaste.

“
I hate it. But it was my
wife’s favorite book, and she used to read her favorite parts to
me. Unfortunately, they’re branded in my brain.”

She felt her spirits sink. She looked down,
and as she closed the lid on the piano, she wished that his fingers
were there so she could slam the lid down on them.

“
I prefer masculine
reading,” he said, “Like Robert Louis Stevenson and Jack
London.
Call of the Wild
was always one of my favorites. You should read it
sometime, instead of all that romantic nonsense.”

She sneered. “Why am I not surprised to hear
that from you?”

Eager to escape him, she rose to her feet
and started to walk out. But before she got to the door, she heard
him call out to her. When she turned to look, he was coming her
way. His look was defiant and stubborn.

“
If you expect me to feel
guilty about what happened, I won’t. And if you expect an apology,
then you’re off your nut, sister.”

He came to stand in front of her, blocking
the door. When he leaned his hand on the doorframe, looking down at
her, she felt herself growing tense. That overwhelming sensation
came to her again as she stood so close to him. A flood of warmth
flowed from his frame to hers, and for a moment she wondered if she
might melt under the heat of his gaze.

But she suddenly remembered the way he had
looked last night…how he had talked to her. And it gave her fresh
courage. Her eyes narrowed up at him.

“
You’re a jackass, Henry
Shaw.”

To her frustration, he only smirked.

“
Sticks and stones may break
my bones,” he started to say. But she refused to hear anymore. With
an angry shove she pushed past him, going off in search of Jack and
Alice.

* * * * *

They went to lunch in town. She tried to
enjoy the little diner they took her to, where she had her first
hamburger and fries, and her first milkshake. But her mind kept
wandering back to Henry. Oh, what a troublesome monster he was. Why
couldn’t he just go away?

As they were coming home, her mind was still
on him. As they came up the front porch, Jack opened the screen
door…and a little square parcel, wrapped in brown paper, fell out
on the stoop. Picking it up, looking at it, he turned to Grace.

“
What’s this? Why does it
have your name on it? You don’t know anyone around
here.”

Alice smiled. “Maybe it’s from a secret
admirer.” Taking the package from his hand, she handed it to
Grace.

Jack’s eyes grew. “What? Who? Open it and
let me see.”

But Alice scolded him. “Leave her alone.
It’s her mail, not yours. She’ll open it when she’s ready.”

She guided him away towards the kitchen,
while Grace went up the stairs, opening the package as she went. A
moment later, she was holding a book in her hands.

It was a copy of Jack
London’s
Call of the Wild.

Chapter 9

“
Cat and
Mouse
”

Henry was in bed, again unable to sleep. But
now, it was not a nightmare that kept him up…but a busy mind.

He was overcome with curiosity, wondering
what had happened since she’d found the book. He’d given it to her
just to tease her…to see if she could keep away from it.

But had it worked? Had she given in to
temptation?

Suddenly he had a thought…a realization.
Knowing what a little hard-head she was, she’d probably kept away
from his gift just to spite him. It seemed like something she would
do.

Stubborn little
brat
, he thought.

He rolled over, giving his pillow a hard
thump of his hand, trying his best to get comfortable…trying to
retrieve his common sense.

To hell with the
book
, he said to himself.
To hell with her. Who needs this
aggravation?

* * * * *

Standing at the living room window, he
casually sipped his cup of coffee…and stared at the house across
the street.

Two days had passed. Not once had he caught
sight of her, even though he found himself looking for her more and
more often. He’d tried not to do so…but found he couldn’t keep
himself from it.

“
Henry, do you plan on
sitting down to eat this morning? Your breakfast is getting
cold.”

He didn’t look at Victoria, who sat at the
table behind him. Several times over the last few days, she’d
questioned his occasional moments of distraction. But his replies
gave her no real information. Most times he changed the subject, as
he did now. He put his cup down on the table.

“
I’m going out to get the
paper.”

Stepping outside, he found his newspaper
waiting on the step. He reached down to pick it up…and as he rose,
his eye caught sight of the front door across the street. It was
opening. A familiar little figure was emerging. But no sooner did
she look at him, pausing in the doorway, than she stepped back
again, slamming the door shut.

He shook his head. Clearly, two days time
had not eased her temper…

Over a few more days, though he kept
vigilant watch, he saw no sign of her. She never came out to work
in the front yard, or to take a walk. He never saw her leaving for
a trip into town. And he soon came to understand the reason.

She’s in there
hiding
.

So that was the contest she played at. How
typical of a woman, to make a man give chase. To play cat and
mouse, as it were. And he thought to himself…

Well what am I, if not
game
?

What would she do if went over and knocked
on the door? He was very tempted to give it a try. But as he
thought about it, he realized that he didn’t have a clever enough
reason to go.

What should I do?
He asked himself.
Ask to
borrow a cup of sugar?
Actually, that
didn’t seem like such a bad idea. It was a tired excuse, but that
would be part of the fun of it. And he almost went through with his
plan.