Saving Grace (Madison Falls) (21 page)

Chapter 28

Grace toyed with the temptation to tell Sam she’d lost a parent too. It would have been a relief to just say it, but instead she held her tongue. Her good intentions weren’t exactly in sync with Grace Addison’s made-up life story.

She studied his face as his mind seemed to wander to a different time. She understood that too.

Silence settled for a moment. She knew how it felt when you just wanted to forget, at the same time wanting to confide in someone. Maybe Sam would welcome the opportunity to talk.

She cleared her throat, then took the plunge. “How did she die?”

His gaze dropped, and a tear glistened in the corner of one eye. He seemed to struggle for the right words. “She was helping out a family from church. They needed to sell their place, and their barn was a real mess. Mom offered to clean it out for them and she wound up breathing in a lot of dust. We didn’t figure out till she got really sick a few days later that she’d inhaled some kind of deadly bacteria.” He glanced up at her. “Something to do with rodents. Anyway, once it got her, that was pretty much it. We took her to the hospital but she was gone in a couple of hours.”

Grace felt her breath leave her. “Oh…”

His face lifted subtly. “The good thing is, I know where she went.”

Confusion colored her gaze. “Where she…?”

“
But the gift of God is eternal life
.” He finally looked at her. “See, she’d accepted the Lord the year before. It’s good to know she’s with Him.”

Accepted the Lord?
Unsure how she should respond, Grace fumbled for comforting words. “That
is
good.”

He went on, his voice raspy. “Trouble is, I’m the only one in the family who sees it that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad and my sister, they…” His eyes welled up again. “They totally blame me for what happened.”

“Blame you?” Her heart ached at the injustice. “She breathed in dust. How could that be your fault?”

He let out a controlled breath. “If it hadn’t been for me, my mom wouldn’t have started going to church. If it hadn’t been for the Holy Spirit guiding her to help that family—”

“She wouldn’t have died?” Grace’s mind boggled. “But she was doing a good thing. How could anybody have predicted what would happen?”

“I know. And I know the Lord allowed it and that He uses everything for good. I’m just having a hard time figuring out how He’s using this because the whole thing has really hardened my family against God and against me. I’m not sure they’ll ever forgive me.”

Grace pressed two fingers to her brow, then pointed her thumb toward the house. “But, your dad doesn’t seem like he’s mad at you.”

A sardonic smile crept over his lips. “It comes out. Mostly in small ways. I can tell it’s still eating at him.” His face grew remorseful. “Look, I really didn’t mean to burden you with my problems.”

“It’s not a burden.” Her hand brushed his elbow. “It’s good to talk about things.”

He nodded. “You’re a good listener. Thanks.”

Their eyes locked for a moment. With a start, he looked away. “I should grab those tiles.”

Her stomach clenched. What was going on with her? “Right.”

He moved from the porch and toward his truck, which he’d backed into the driveway.

Lingering at the crest of the steps, she watched him with fresh eyes. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he had more than his share of positive attributes. He wasn’t bad looking, if you pictured him in something designer with his hair gelled just a touch. In fact, under the right circumstances, she might even consider him a hunk.

He reached into the back of his pickup and unhooked the tailgate, his biceps clearly bulging under the fabric of his work shirt. She took in a resolute breath.
Okay, fine.
He
was
a hunk.

She scolded herself. Looks weren’t everything. True, he was witty, in his own way. Now that she’d seen his vulnerable side, she had to admit she found it appealing. He even knew something about music. She hovered on the porch steps, warmed by this unexpected attraction to him.

A sudden jab to her heart brought her to her senses. What was she thinking? How could she possibly overlook the facts? He was, by the look of things, an abusive, neglectful husband who had turned to drug dealing. Even if he had his reasons, they couldn’t possibly be good enough to justify any of that. A tsunami of irritation washed over her. Why was she feeling drawn to a guy who, for so many reasons, was clearly not a candidate for romance? Besides, she already had that area of her life covered.

At least, she’d
thought
she had it covered. Anger twisted in her stomach. A vision of Devon’s hand on Sophia’s back as they’d exited the Peach Basket that morning burned into her brain. She wanted to strangle that little wench.

“Oh, and I have something for you.” Sam called out from across the yard, tugging her out of her homicidal thoughts.

She frowned. What could he possibly have for her? She heaved a sigh, hoping against hope that this wasn’t going to be one of those awful moments where a guy tried to win her over with an inappropriate gift. Didn’t she have enough problems?

She stomped down the steps and over to the driveway, determined to tell him that whatever this ‘gift’ was, he could just take it back. She didn’t want or need anything from—

Staring into the bed of the truck, her mouth fell open.

“Lucy mentioned that you still needed it.” He spoke with a swift, almost apologetic tone. “And since Bob doesn’t have any time right now, I thought that…”

Much to her surprise, her eyes started to well up as she stared at an intricately constructed wooden crate. It was exactly what she’d described to him.

His voice was uncertain. “So, if you think this will work for you, I can take it inside.”

Afraid to speak for fear of signaling her emotional state, she nodded with a close-lipped smile.

He let out a breath. “Okay. I’ll just grab it then.” He balanced the crate on a box of tiles, picked them both up, and began walking to the house.

She followed his departing back with her eyes before finding a steady voice. “What do I owe you?”

He turned around, his eyes warm. “I just used some scrap wood from the store. Consider it a gift.”

Her knees felt weak. “But I asked you to do it.”

The corners of his lips rose. “That’s true, but you also fired me from doing it, remember? It’s no big deal.” He turned again and moved back inside.

She felt like a hot air balloon that had been deflated and left puddled on the ground. It was just so strange—him making this for her. She was touched by the apparently unselfish gesture, but the irony left her more confused than ever.

She hoisted a box into her arms. It was okay. Sam had helped her get over a hurdle. Soon, she’d have the painting shipped off, it would sell, and she’d have her life back.

Surprised by the weight of this small box of tiles, she stepped gingerly into her house. Sam had propped the kitchen door open with the crate, and she stopped to peer through the doorway. When he saw her, he stepped across the floor to relieve her of her load. His arms brushed against hers as he took the box, and their eyes met. Her heart beat like a steel drum band.

From across the room, Mr. Roberts let out an audible breath. Grace and Sam both looked at him, and he flashed an innocent grin. “Getting a lot of work done, I see.”

Sam’s face flushed as he quipped. “Just worry about your own project.”

Mr. Roberts clicked the cupboard door shut. “I’m all done. Why are you so slow?”

Sam rolled his eyes, placing the box on the floor. “Excuse me. I have to get that other box of tile.” He edged past Grace. She followed him into the living room.

“Sam.”

He turned. “Yeah?”

“It’s just…I didn’t really say ‘thank you’.”

He smiled. “It was nothing.”

“It was huge.”

He tipped a casual shoulder. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your bathtub.”

A twinge stirred inside. “My bathtub?”

He tilted a sideways glance. “The leak…?”

“Oh. Right.” She shook off her unwarranted recollection. “And thanks for telling me about your mom.”

He nodded, his eyes glistening. “Thanks for listening. Not everyone understands.” He smiled his reassurance, then made his exit.

She stood for a moment, looking at the door through which he’d just walked and would shortly re-enter. Turning her head, she stared at the crate. Sadness filled her. Yes, she understood. If only there was something she could do about it.

***

“I can make that á la mode for fifty cents more.”

Grace slunk down lower into the comforting vinyl of the booth. “Why not?” She handed over her menu, content to celebrate her repaired pipes by visiting the Country Kitchen.

She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. She glanced out the window as Sam helped a customer load some wood into a flashy orange pickup truck. He’d apparently gone back to work after finishing her floor. Didn’t that guy ever take a break?

She heaved a sigh. She appreciated that he’d confided in her, but that didn’t change the kind of guy he was. Why was he constantly perched on the periphery of her mind like a sentinel?

“Here you go, honey. Peach pie, fresh baked this afternoon.”

The pastry the waitress placed in front of Grace was tall as a slice from Pie in the Sky stacked on top of one from Pie Heaven. New York should be ashamed of itself.

Her mouth watered as she picked up her fork, a little daunted by the task at hand. “Thanks, ah…” She glanced at the waitress’ nametag, embarrassed that she hadn’t thought to do so till now. “Thanks Gloria.”

The waitress smiled. “Call me Glo. Everyone does.”

“Glo. I like that.” Grace cracked the golden crust with her fork. She put a bite of ice cream-swathed pie into her mouth and closed her eyes. The taste of sweet peach burst on her tongue like a flavor firecracker.

“Good, isn’t it?” Glo said.

“Mm hmm.” Grace nodded, unwilling to rush through that first bite.

“Well, you just take your time and enjoy. The dinner rush won’t hit for a good half hour.”

Grace nodded, not only appreciative for the satisfying meal, but the companionship.

“How’s that job working out for you?” Glo retreated behind the counter, a few feet from Grace’s booth.

Grace swallowed. “Fine
now
. It’s everything else that’s confusing.”

“Anything I can help clear up for you?” Glo picked up some stray coffee cups and swabbed the counter.

Smiling, Grace prepared another bite for launch. “I just have a little money problem.”

Glo nodded as she turned to start a fresh pot of coffee. “Not enough?”

“A little too much, actually.”

Glo shot a questioning glance over her shoulder. “Well, that’s a new one.”

It was far too complex a situation to do justice between bites. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should share it with someone. It’s complicated.”

“Oh. Well, you know what the Bible says. ‘Store up your riches in Heaven, for your heart will always be where your riches are’.”

Her fork hovered midair. “That’s really beautiful. I’m not sure it answers my question though.”

“Well, think about it. Pray about it.” Speaking over her shoulder, Glo filled a coffee filter with dark grounds. “What else is on your mind, honey?”

Grace looked around. A couple seated by the window paid her no attention, but she picked up her pie and moved to the counter just the same. She kept her voice low. “Glo, how well do you know Sam?”

“Sam?” The question appeared to catch her by surprise. “He’s a dear. One of my best customers.”

“I’m sure.” Grace swirled her fork in the rich vanilla ice cream. “So, how long has he been married?”

Glo’s well-mascara-ed eyes flew open wide and she nearly dropped her coffee pot. “Sam isn’t
married
.”

Grace swallowed a thick slice of peach without chewing. Coughing, she felt the blood rush to her face. “He’s not?”

“Oh, gosh no, honey.” Glo grabbed a glass and filled it with water, handing it to Grace. “He’s a catch, that’s for sure, but he hasn’t been lassoed yet.” Glo picked up her coffee pot and went to welcome a couple of teenagers who had just walked through the door.

So Sam wasn’t married? Why did that news make her even happier than the taste of fresh peach?

Her next thought twisted her stomach. She let her fork rest on the side of her plate.

Glo returned, tilting a concerned look. “Something wrong with the pie?”

Grace looked up. “Oh, no. I’m just confused. I’ve seen Sam with a couple of kids.”

“Kids? Oh, you must mean Jill’s kids.” Glo rested the coffee pot on the burner. “He’s like a dad to them in a way. Goodness knows those kids need one.”

Jill
. So Sam was dating a woman with kids. And dealing drugs on the side. Who’d want to lasso that?

Watching as Glo clipped an order up for the chef, she weighed her words, not wanting to appear too ignorant. “Glo, what does it mean to ‘receive the Lord’?”

“Now there’s an easy one.” She gave Grace a warm smile and leaned on the counter. “It means to believe Jesus died on the cross to pay for your salvation.”

“And ‘salvation’ means going to Heaven? It’s really that simple?”

“Simple as pie.”

Grace pushed a flake of crust across her plate, contemplating Glo’s words.

Glo spoke matter-of-factly. “All you have to do is pray for Jesus to come into your heart.”

She left to greet the start of the dinner rush and Grace pushed her fork across the plate to pick up the last of the crumbs. All you had to do was
pray?
Finally, it was starting to make sense.

Chapter 29

Grace tossed a filter basket into the nearly-full bussing tub, where it landed with a
clunk
. Since realizing that keeping the stand open after the show nearly doubled their daily revenue, she’d fallen into a nice routine. Act two was just long enough for her to clean up from the intermission rush and prepare for the after-show and post-rehearsal crowd.