Falling From Grace (41 page)

His deep, beautiful laugh rang out and filled my room with its sweet sound.
 
I tried to hush him, not wanting Dad or Janice to hear, but he only laughed louder.
 
“Grace, Janice and your father are not here.
 
I have not heard their thoughts since I’ve been here.
 
Let me laugh as loudly as I like, because you have allowed me to sway you.
 
I might be an angel after all!”

I took a moment to allow him his joy before asking, “They’re not here?”
 
That information was very shocking to me.
 
Where would they have gone so early in the morning?

“While I was here yesterday, I noticed that Janice had been thinking about some tests she had to take this morning.
 
She was worried because had she been younger, she wouldn’t have had to take them.
 
It causes her to worry about the baby.”

I felt the heaviness of that small slice of reality settle on me.
 
“Ugh, why is it always so up and down?”
 
I sank even deeper into the mattress of the bed.
 
“Can’t I have at least one day of happiness without the world crashing down on me?
 
A month ago I didn’t even want Janice around, and now I’m worrying about her and the baby.
 
It’s like something is around my neck, Robert, and I can’t breathe!”

“Grace, don’t worry about Janice and the baby.
 
They will be fine.
 
She’s healthy, and the baby is, too.”
 
Robert looked at me, his face a roadmap of concern, kindness, compassion, and caring.
 
I felt the strong enclosure of his arms surround me, but it was his voice that gave me the greatest comfort.
 
“There is nothing to worry about, trust me.
 
I have it on good authority.”

I smiled, and sighed in relief.
 
I could trust him.
 
I knew that more than anything else in this world.

Wrapping my arms around him and taking a deep breath, I marveled at the way the day was beginning.
 
“It’s not even seven o’clock and I’m ready to sleep in until Sunday.
 
So, now that we’ve gone through my dramatic moment of the day, can I ask you where are we going tonight that requires me to be dressed so semi-formally?”

“Well, my friend-” the way he said
friend
seemed almost mocking “-I would like to take you to a wedding for the granddaughter of a friend of mine.”

A wedding for the granddaughter of a friend?
 
“How long have you known this friend?”

“I’ve known the family for nearly fifty years.
 
Well, I should say that we’ve known the family for nearly fifty years.
 
Lark and my mother will be there as well tonight.”

“So will this meeting be like the last one?
 
With secrets and revelations coming forward?” I asked playfully.

“There will be some surprises, yes.
 
But we’ll talk about that later.
 
You have a day planned with Graham, and I don’t want to ruin it.”
 
He eased away from me, my arms no match for his casual strength.
 
“I will be back here at five, with your dress.”

The word “dress” sent a cold chill down my spine.
 
“Um
—
what color are you planning on getting this
dress
in?”
 
The way I said “dress” made it sound like it was an expletive.

“I was thinking something in green.
 
It would suit your coloring quite nicely.
 
With no ruffles, of course.”

I could find no fault in the color choice, and would have to trust that he’d choose something that didn’t make me look like the frosting on a sickly looking cupcake.
 
I couldn’t do anything else.

“Fine.
 
I wear a size two, just in case you were wondering.
 
I’d hate for you to go to all this trouble only to purchase something that doesn’t fit.”

An amused grin spread across his face.
 
“So you would be more concerned with the trouble I had gone through to get the dress, than if I brought you one that was a few sizes too big to fit or the connotations that could be made as a result?”

My lips pulled tight into a very concentrated frown.
 
“It will be baggy on me anyway, so what’s it being a few sizes too big going to do?
 
Make sure it has some kind of tie in the back so that I can at least cinch it in a bit.
 
I don’t want to embarrass you too greatly in front of your friends.”

He pulled me back into his embrace, squeezing me tightly, but gently.
 
“Stop thinking so little of yourself.
 
Did you not just see how beautiful you are?
 
I will be showing you off tonight, in a dress that will make you look like the treasure that you are, and there will be nothing that you can do, say, or wear that will embarrass me in front of my friends.
 
Alright?”
 
He kissed the top of my head again.

I nodded my head.
 
He had done it again.
 
“You’re definitely an angel.
 
You’ve gotten your way twice in less than an hour with the two things that I haven’t been able to do since I was a child: wear a dress and feel good about myself.
 
Only someone with divine powers could accomplish such a feat.”

His laughter once again filled the room, and this time I let the sound fill me.
 
I could afford that now, knowing that no one was going to come barging in with shock and accusations.
 
It was such a wonderful feeling, I couldn’t help but laugh with him.
 

The joy I felt at hearing our mixed laughter bouncing around the room, coupled with the warmth I felt, not just from the morning sun streaming through my window, but also from that place deep within me that appreciated the wonder that was happiness, melded to form a great bond around my quickly beating heart, turning it into something that I knew was strong, much stronger than I had ever imagined possible.

You are incredible.

And with a soft kiss on my forehead, and an even softer whisper of goodbye, he dematerialized into a faint mist again and slowly made his way out of my window.
 
I watched as he disappeared, already missing the feel of his arms wrapped around me.
 
Quickly, before I knew he was out of my mind’s reach, I asked him one pressing question.

It’s a stargazer lily, because now you have more than one reason to look up at the sky.

I couldn’t help but smile.
 
I hugged myself; the idea that he had put so much thought into something as simple as a flower just for me was overwhelming and surprising.
 
Surely, I didn’t deserve so much as this?
 
Sighing, I reached for the phone once more and dialed Graham’s number.

By the time Graham honked his horn, announcing that he was ready to leave, it was well past nine.
 
As soon as I told him that Janice and Dad weren’t home, all motivation to rush on over were gone for him since he knew that meant no hot breakfast would be waiting him in the kitchen.
 
I was content with a bagel and some orange juice while he needed hulking amounts of everything.

I wrote a quick note to let Dad know where I would be, not wanting to have him come home to an empty house and not knowing where I was.
 
I made sure to grab the vase that contained Robert’s flower before heading out the door, opting not to take the crutches, and instead expound on the perceived wonders of painkillers.
 
I was still feeling overwhelmed by Robert’s gesture that did wonders to push me closer and closer to that edge where friendship ended and something else that I knew I wanted desperately began.

Graham eyed the solitary blossom with speculative eyes.
 
“Where’d you get that?”

I placed the vase between my knees as I buckled my seat belt.
 
“Robert brought it over this morning to place on Mom’s grave.”

He looked at me as though I had just told him that the world was rectangular in shape and was governed by two headed goats.
 
“He brought them over this morning?”

“Yes.
 
He said he wanted me to put this vase and flower on her grave, as a way of thanking her for giving birth to me.”
 
I enjoyed hearing the words come out of my lips.
 
It solidified the sentiment, cemented it.
 
I was even more pleased with Graham’s reaction.

“Wow.
 
Even I never thought of something like that.
 
Score one for the new guy.”
 
The muttered statement went a long way to keeping the smile I had on my face.

We rode in near silence to the cemetery, the thought of where we were going and why heavy in both of our minds.
 
Mount Calvary Catholic Cemetery was a few miles out of Heath in Newark.
 
It was a simple cemetery that boasted no fancy entrance or signs.
 
The sign that greeted visitors was quite rudimentary:
 
Simple wooden planks were painted brown, while the name had been painted on with streaky white letters.

Mom used to bring me here when I was a little girl.
 
There were many old civil war graves here, and we would play a game where we’d pick a headstone and create a story about the person’s life.
 
I was always saying things like how they were mythical creatures, or super heroes whose alter-egos had to die in order to protect their secret identities.
 
She would always give them normal lives, but that they had made small, but significant impacts to the lives of those around them.

I remembered one particular headstone, where a mother and child had been buried together, their dates of death the same.
 

“Annaleigh and Katherine MacDonnell, died on June 12, 1890.”
 
Mom had read, her fingers touching the weathered engraving, lovingly tracing their indentations as we both knelt down on the damp grass.
 
“Annaleigh was a beautiful woman who was the town’s only teacher.
 
She had a sister and two brothers, all of whom had reddish gold hair.
 
She gave her daughter, Katherine the same hair color, although her eyes weren’t blue like her mother’s, but the chocolate brown that were the same color as her father’s.”

She took my hand and placed it on the almost imperceptible carving of a cherub above the names.
 
“Annaleigh would have been a great mother, and Katherine would have been a beautiful, bright, and sweet natured girl had they survived past childbirth, but the angels came to take them to Heaven instead.”

“Why, Mommy?
 
Why did the angels take them to Heaven?”

A sad smile came over her face.
 
“Because the plan God has for each of our lives isn’t always the same plan we have for ourselves, Grace.
 
Sometimes, our deaths have more of an impact than our births.
 
It can inspire people to do great things, even greater than they would have had the deaths not happened at all.”

She helped me to trace the wings on the cherub, and sighed.
 
“The death of these people might have changed the world, Grace, so we sometimes have to look at death not as something sad, but as something to be glad for.
 
Sometimes death changes our lives in ways we never expect.
 
It can bring with it every emotion; we have to learn to recognize the ones that help us and the ones that hurt us.
 
And we also have to be willing to accept that with everything else, death also brings with it love.
 
That is why we must always be grateful and appreciate it, even if it brings some sadness with it.”

She wiped a tear away from her eyes with her free hand.
 
“I’m sorry baby.
 
I’m making you all nervous and worried, aren’t I?
 
What do you think about Annaleigh and Katherine?”

In all my childish wisdom, I answered, “I think she was a super hero, and she didn’t want her child to be taken away by evil mutants who wanted to turn her into a monster, so she ran away and pretended to die.
 
I think that she put a doll in her coffin and she really ran off with a handsome hero who took her away to someplace safe forever and ever.”
 
I pointed down to the ground.

My mother brought me to her chest and hugged me very tightly.
 
She kissed the top of my head and rocked me gently.
 
“Your story is much better, baby.
 
So much better than mine.”

That was the last of our stories.
 
We were coming home from that visit when we had the car accident, and other than that and waking up in the hospital, I remember very little from that night.
 
Everyone said it was a miracle I had survived without any burns, because our car had been turned into a big, black hunk of metal, and my mother’s body was burned beyond recognition.