Saving Grace (Madison Falls) (17 page)

Shifting to see around the man in the row ahead of her, she frowned. The guitar player onstage looked just like Sam. She squinted. It
was
Sam. He hadn’t mentioned that he played an instrument, but then, why would he?

She clucked in disgust. It was funny that church people could be such hypocrites—act however you want all week as long as you pray for forgiveness on Sunday.

Failing to pull her eyes off him, she couldn’t help but admire his form. Clearly, he was skilled at playing and he seemed to enjoy it. Why did that surprise her so much?

The song ended to wild applause. As it waned, the singer started to speak. “Lord we praise you for this glorious summer morning!”

More applause. Boy, were these people cheerful.

“Father, we gather here to worship You, to honor You, and to thank You for all the blessings You provide.”

Everyone seemed to have their eyes closed, so Grace did the same.

“We praise You, God, and thank You for dying on the cross for our sins.”

Grace opened one eye, checking to make sure he wasn’t joking.
Dying on the cross for our sins?
That was such a cliché. What did it mean, anyway?

“We know that we’re all faced with our trials, Lord, but we take comfort in knowing that no matter what, You are always with us, and that You know exactly what path we should take. All we have to do is ask, Lord, and You’ll lead us.”

She frowned. If only it were that simple. ‘Ask and You’ll lead us?’ If the Lord was looking down on her right now, He was probably just shaking His head.

She opened her eyes a bit, stealing a peek at Sam. He had one hand on the neck of his guitar and held the other above his head. There was an intensity about him which implied that he took this praying thing very seriously. Was God somehow leading him to be a greedy hot-tempered louse? What kind of god would encourage that?

“Amen!” Everyone around her spoke the word in unison and she felt like a complete outsider for not knowing her cue.

The band resumed playing, a slower song this time. Grace perked up. She knew this one. She’d learned it in choir years ago. As the room filled with singing she joined in, unable to stop herself. “
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
…” She closed her eyes and set her voice free.

The music carried her out of her concerns, out of her prison of fear.

In her mind she was lifted up, as if she’d never walked into that apartment two years ago. Never let down her guard or been nice to the wrong person. Music had always swept her up into its magic, allowing her to soar. That was the most precious of all that had been stolen from her, and for this moment she found it again.

The final chord resolved and she opened her eyes. Instantly her heart took off at a full-on sprint. Why was everyone looking at her? Even the performers onstage stared. Her eyes met Sam’s and he flashed an admiring grin. Just what she needed. She sank into her seat as applause again erupted around her. How could she have let herself get so carried away?

“You have a real gift.” Bob spoke softly, leaning toward her as he took his seat.

Her stomach churned. What good is a gift if you can’t ever take it out and enjoy it?

She had really blown it. It was only a matter of time before people started to question why she wasn’t using this
gift
. She slunk down lower in her seat. What story could she make up to explain her way around
this?

Chapter 23

Balancing a tray of mochas with one arm, Grace pulled open the front door of the rehearsal space. She shuddered. Inside, the pirates reached for each elusive note of the song they were attempting to learn as Myra plunked out her own version of the tune. True, they lacked proper instrumentation, but what passed for singing with them made Grace worry that her ears might bleed.

Scanning the room for a place to set her tray, she glanced up at the landing in the back corner and pursed her lips. Why was she going all the way outside and around when that door led directly into her stand? Too bad Nancy didn’t have a key.

She crossed surreptitiously to the director’s table which sat squarely in the center of the room and set down the tray. Devon turned his head and gave her a more-than-cordial smile that lingered even after his attention turned back to the taped-off stage area.

Feeling the heat of Sophia’s malevolent stare, Grace looked up. She tossed the little prima donna wannabe a look that she hoped read as victorious-but-not-too-haughty. No point in encouraging enmity.

“Fine everyone.” Devon’s tone was commanding and upbeat. “Let’s take fifteen.” He stood and grabbed a cup from the tray, his face just inches from Grace’s ear. “I’ll be out front.”

Her heart did a
ka-thump
that would have been audible if the room hadn’t been abuzz with excited chatter. She longed to tag after him, but thought better of being too obvious. It seemed best to keep her private life private even when she wasn’t playing witness protection program.

“Miss Addison.” Hank tipped his cap as he approached the table and reached for a cup.

“Evening, Hank.” She smiled. “Love your eye patch.”

A hint of confusion crossed his face as he touched his cheek. “Oh, I almost forgot I had this thing on. Thought I should get used to it.”

“A wise choice.”

A hopeful glint pervaded the eye she could see. “Have you had much of a chance to hear us sing?”

With some difficulty, she kept her expression pleasant. She
had
heard. Every sour note. “You’ve all been working very hard,” she encouraged.

“Aw, thank you, Miss Addison.” He looked satisfied with the answer as he took a healthy swig. “Mmmm. Great cuppa joe.”

“Thanks. Tell your friends.” She puckered her brow, marveling at Carl’s attempt to pick up a mocha with the hook he held in his hand. “Nice to see you guys are really getting into character.”

“It’s not every day we get a chance to express ourselves artistically.” Carl gave up the piratical prop in favor of his field-roughened hand.

“For the life of me, Miss Addison,” Hank flipped up his patch, “I can’t understand why you didn’t audition. After that beautiful singing you did on Sunday—”

“Oh, that.” Her knees buckled. “I just really love that song.”

“I’d belt it out too if it was called ‘Amazing Carl’.” Carl chuckled in apparent delight at his own wit.

Grace let out a nervous titter as Ruby wedged between the two men. “Step aside and let someone else get some coffee, guys.” She elbowed them playfully. “Grace, you really
were
amazing the other day, but I’m grateful you didn’t audition. I wouldn’t have had a chance at Mabel.”

“Oh, Ruby.” Grace waved off her comment. “You’re doing a great job.”

“Thanks,” Ruby lowered her eyes. “But I’m not trained like you obviously are.”

“You’re kidding.” Grace handed out a few more cups to enthusiastic actors. “You’ve never had voice lessons?”

“Nope.” Her expression humble, Ruby lifted her gaze. “Besides church, the only singing I’ve done has been to the cows when no one else is around. When I saw the audition notice, I started to think…”

Grace smiled. “That you should be singing to people, not just livestock?”

A pleased sparkle glinted in Ruby’s eyes. “Exactly. But I have a long way to go to be as good as you. Your voice reminds me of a singer I heard once.” She looked at the boys. “Guys, remember a couple of years back when my mom and I went to Frisco and we got to see
Madame Butterfly
?”

A sudden jolt of nausea surged through Grace’s stomach.

“I just love opera.” Ruby looked dreamily back at Grace. “Do you know that one?”

Grace bit her lower lip to keep it from shaking.

“The woman who sang Kate Pinkerton was astonishing. Her voice was pure and clear just like yours and she was beautiful.” Her eyes steadied on Grace. “In fact, you look a lot like her. What was her name…? Tracy something.” She looked away, her brow creasing, then snapped her fingers. “I know. Tracy Fontaine.”

The trio continued talking but for Grace, their banter blurred. Her throat closed and breathing became difficult. She needed to get outside. Gulping in a lungful of air, she reeled abruptly toward the door just as Sophia stepped into her path, her arms folded like a sentry.

“You look a little green,” she sneered. “I think you’ve had too much of that awful coffee of yours.”

Grace reined in her thoughts and forced a controlled smile. “Thanks for your concern, but I’m just fine.” She turned back to the table, picked up the one remaining cup, and offered it to Myra as she passed by.

“Why, thank you my dear.” Myra’s coarsely-lined eyes widened slightly as she grabbed the cup and eyed it as if she’d never seen coffee before. She lifted it to her carefully painted lips and took a wary nip. Her eyes softened and she made a pleased sound as she swallowed. “My dear, that’s the most remarkable coffee I’ve ever tasted.” She patted Grace’s hand. “This ought to perk me up to play all those fast notes.”

Grace smiled weakly at Myra’s departing back. If only that could be true.

A derisive snicker escaped from Sophia. “Some people have no taste.” She rounded the table and looked at Grace head-on. “Take Ruby. So what if she thinks you look like some singer nobody’s ever heard of?” She scoffed. “People always tell
me
I look like Jessica Alba.”

“Hmm…” Suddenly lucid, Grace studied Sophia’s harsh features. “I really don’t see it. Jessica’s so
pretty
.”

A fire lit behind Sophia’s eyes and she turned on her heel.

Grace twisted her mouth.
‘Nobody’s ever heard of’, my eye.
She’d honestly intended to steer clear of any low blows, but Sophia made it too easy.

Her tray now empty, she picked it up and headed for the door. In the commotion of the last few minutes, she’d forgotten all about Devon.

Her pulse played a staccato melody as she stepped out into the warm evening and saw him push off the brick wall he’d been leaning on.

He eyed her suggestively. “I was starting to feel stood up.”

Assuming a demure attitude, she moved toward him, clasping the tray under her arm. “I never promised I’d come out.”

“You can’t blame a guy for hoping.”

She sidled up next to him. “So, will I see you at the potluck tomorrow?”

His eyes bugged out in amusement. “Potluck’s aren’t exactly my style.”

“Mine either. But Lucy’s quartet is playing and I promised her I’d go. I know it’s not the Met, but…”

He chuckled lightly. “Or the New York Grand? If your audition for me the other day is any indication, you could be on the inside track at both.”

She flashed a grin. He’d seemed impressed by her a cappella rendition of Carmen’s Act I aria, but she hadn’t wanted to push a decision. “So, have you heard any more?”

“They seem just inches away from hiring me. When I hear, you’ll be the first to know. Why don’t you go to the concert in the park and tell me how it was? I have some business to attend to anyway.”

“Business?” She teased. “In the evening?”

He shrugged, checking his Rolex. “Time to get back. Oh, and I had a word with Sam. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

Her heart sank slightly as she forced an appreciative smile. Had he doomed her to finish the job herself?
Plumbing Repair for Dummies?

With a hand squeeze and a wink, he turned to go. She watched him disappear into the storefront, then headed back toward the theatre. Sauntering up the sidewalk, she enjoyed the evening breeze that always seemed to waft through town at about this time. With a sense of leisure, she commenced climbing the steep porch steps.

Reaching the top, she turned and leaned on the pillar, a dreamy smile forming on her lips as she thought of Devon. She hated lying to him, but surely when the time came to fill him in, he’d understand. He’d probably applaud her courage and ingenuity, not to mention the twist of fate that had brought them together.

She perched on the railing, leaning her back against the pillar, and took in a restorative breath. There was still a good half hour till intermission, and it was nicer out here than inside.

Relax.
All she had to do was get through the next few weeks.

As her body loosened up, Ruby’s comment slipped back to the forefront of her mind. She gritted her teeth. So what if Ruby had noticed she resembled Tracy? She hadn’t seemed to think much of it. If she ever realized how right she’d been, Grace would be long gone anyway.

She shifted on her narrow perch. What if Ruby mentioned her observation to other people? It wouldn’t take much for somebody to Google ‘Tracy Fontaine’ and come up with all kinds of interesting information. Turning her head, she glanced at her image in the window and ran a hand through her hair. The short Warm Cinnamon was a far cry from the long blonde of just a few weeks ago. Would that be enough to deter the curious?

She scoffed. What was the worst that could happen? It wasn’t like she was a fugitive with a reward on her head. Or was she? If Kirk had his feelers out…. She shivered. He’d bought the loyalty of people she’d trusted in the past. Who knew what might happen?

Her stomach churned. She couldn’t waste any more time. She had to get the painting shipped to an art dealer so it could go to auction and she could get the money that would buy back her freedom.

Just then a movement across the street caught her attention. The door on the corner that looked like it led to an apartment over the hardware store swung open. Out stepped Sam into the lengthening shadows.

Grace narrowed her eyes. What was he doing up there, fixing the plumbing? Not likely without any tools. He looked one way down the sidewalk, then the other, like a spy on a secret mission. Head down, he thrust his hands into his pockets and strode toward his truck. He climbed in, revved it to a start, and drove off.

It was probably nothing, and why did she care anyway? Maybe he lived up there, but hadn’t he said something about a yard? Could be they had an office upstairs, but the frilly curtains in the windows made that seem doubtful.