Falling From Grace (57 page)

Grasping onto the seriousness of the situation, I sighed again.
 
“Well, I guess you’d better let me get up then so I can get ready.”
 
His arm lifted and I sat up, the loss of the weight making me feel suddenly bereft.
 
I climbed to the foot of the bed and reached over, slamming my hand against the droning buzz coming from the alarm and basked in the resulting silence.
 
Feeling the need for urgency, I ransacked my drawers for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
 
My first pair of jeans in weeks!
 
The amount of satisfaction in that thought was immeasurable; at that moment, I didn’t care if Dad grounded me for a month!

Clutching my clothes to my chest, I looked over at Robert, who was lying on my bed, one arm propping up his head, his other arm lazily toying with my comforter and I silently thanked Janice for seeing a need there and changing it.
 
“I’m going to change in the bathroom.”

He smiled, already knowing that was my plan.
 
My head was clearer to him now.
 
He could see beyond the fog and the void that my cluttered mind portrayed.
 
And, I could feel him in there, too.
 
How odd.

I wanted to know what that meant, but I needed to change and brush my teeth first.
 
The idea of waking up with him in my bed and scaring him away with dragon breath was enough to get me moving at a pace that would rival his own.
 
It was when I had closed the bathroom door and stared in the mirror that I could hear his laughing in my head.
 

I ignored it as I quickly changed my clothes, being very careful to avoid the mirror just in case he chose to not be so gentlemanly and take a peek.
 
That was going to be difficult now that I had made myself aware of it, this whole privacy thing.
 
I knew that if I made him promise to never do that, he’d be tied to it, but I had to admit to the small, minute, microscopic part of me that almost didn’t want to.
 
Almost.

I brushed my teeth.
 
Twice.
 
And I headed towards my room, crashing into Dad in the process.
 
“Um.
 
Morning Dad.”

 
His eyes were still glazed over from sleep, and his hair looked as though he’d fallen asleep under one of those vacuum hair-cutting deals, but he was still shrewd enough to give me a once over, as though he knew something else was different about me.
 
I was too cheerful this morning, I told myself.
 
That’s what it was.

“Morning, Grace,” he replied gruffly.
 
“I’m going to call the hospital and see if we can get your arm x-rayed early, so I suggest you get dressed and ready to leave by eight.”

“But I-”

He held up his hand, “No buts, Grace.
 
I’m going to get your arm back in that cast.
 
I saw those x-rays, and there’s no way that your arm would have healed this fast.
 
Now go and get dressed.”

“Dad, I’m already dressed,” I pointed out.

Blinking a few times to clear his foggy vision, he finally noticed my jeans and t-shirt.
 
Unfortunately, he also noticed that my jean clad right leg was conspicuously cast free.
 
“Where’s your cast?” he asked, his voice calm but hinting at the anger that was threatening just beneath the surface.

“My leg is fine Dad
—
there’s no need for the cast-”

It was as if I had learned nothing from the night before.
 
The puce shade was back, but when combined with his helter-skelter hair, and his glassy eyes, he looked terrifying.
 
I backed away, fearful of him for the first time.

“Grace, I want you to get in your room, I want you to call Robert, and I want you to tell him to meet us here in thirty minutes.
 
Is that clear?”
I nodded, and inched my way around him, quickly opening my bedroom door and shutting it, bracing myself against it.
 
As soon as the sound of the latch could be heard, Robert had me in his arms, my face pressed against his shoulder, his hands at the small of my back and the back of my head, warm and comforting.

“Oh, I’ve made a mess of things,” I groaned.
 
“I’ve never seen him that angry before.
 
What is he going to do?”

Robert’s movements were a blur of speed as I was sitting in his lap on the bed before I had even gotten to the word “angry”.
 
He stroked my hair, his hands reassuring.
 
He’ll yell at me, accuse me of not caring for your welfare after all the trust he’s put in me, threaten me with bodily harm if I ever set foot near you again…the usual things a father says when he loves his daughter.

The groaning didn’t seem to cease.
 
“He’s completely overacting.
 
I’m so sorry about all of this.”

A finger beneath my chin forced my face to look up, and a soft smile urged me to relax.
 
You have nothing to be sorry about.
 
If you had to spend all night in those things, you’d have had a much worse night than it was.
 
I’ll deal with this.
 
Don’t worry, Grace.
 
It’ll work out.

I shook my head.
 
How was this going to work out?
 
How was he going to convince my father that it was perfectly sane and safe for him to have removed my casts without telling him how or why?
 
And even if he did, what were the odds that Dad would believe him?
 
It wasn’t looking to good on this end.

A knock on my door jolted us apart, and when my door opened before I had a chance to answer whoever it was on the other side, Robert had disappeared and Janice was walking in.
 
“I just wanted to see that you were okay.
 
See if I can’t try and get James to see it a bit from your side.”

She sat down next to me, oblivious to the remnant of gray mist creeping out of my window, and placed her hands on mine, squeezing them and sighing, “How was your date?
 
Did you have fun?”

“Yes, for the most part,” I replied, once again unable to do anything but be honest.

Janice’s face was full of happiness, and I knew that she would be understanding about the casts.
 
“Will you really talk to Dad about my casts?
 
He doesn’t want to see that I really am fine without them.”

She lifted her hands from mine and reached for my arm.
 
She examined the length, looked at my elbow, watched my face as she bent and straightened my arm.
 
She made me flex my fingers, flex my arm, make a fist.
 
She was school nurse Janice and I was patient Grace, being given the once over to see if I could go back outside and play.
 

“I think your arm is perfectly fine, Grace.
 
I don’t know how.
 
From what your father told me, it was a clean break, and that should take at least six weeks to heal, never mind the dislocated shoulder.
 
And then we have your leg.
 
I saw you walk to the bathroom this morning, and there’s no way that you should be able to walk if your leg were truly as bad as it was made out to be.
 
I don’t know how or why, and right now, I don’t want to.
 
I’ll tell your dad what I think, and after that, it’s in the doctor’s hands.
 
I can only hope that Robert can somehow convince your father not to kill him.”

I burst out into hysterical giggles as I thought about how my hand had looked after my playful jab at Lark.
 
I didn’t want to imagine what Dad would look like if he intentionally hit Robert.
 
Janice’s face was reproachful at my fit of laughter, and I attempted to stem it, not wanting to lose her confidence in my side.
 
I quickly tucked my lips between my teeth and pressed down hard, the pain and the resulting tears doing much to sober me up to the gravity of the situation.

When Janice stood up and left, I looked at the clock and saw that there was exactly ten minutes left before Robert would be standing on the doorstep, ringing that bell.
 
He hadn’t told me he’d be there in thirty minutes, but I knew that he’d heard Dad’s orders and wouldn’t do anything to cause me to get into any more trouble.
 
I looked at the sunlight shining through my window, and saw the glint of amber reflected against the wall; I followed the reflection to its source.
 
It was one of the crystals from the dress; it had apparently fallen off after I had removed the dress and dropped it in Robert’s lap.
 
I bent down to retrieve it and held it up into the light.

The colors that sparkled from within it reminded me of fire and gold all at once, bouncing out onto the walls, sending shards of light and flash into every corner.
 
I twisted my hand, causing the crystal’s ocher rainbow to move along the white walls, as though splashing it with the colors of the sunrise and sunset that you couldn’t see without staring directly at the sun.
 

My gaze was drawn to the center of the crystal; my vision entranced by the sweet hum of the soft colors that swayed and bent in the light.
 
Their hypnotic dance lulled me into such a state of repose; I could see flames leaping and dancing around a familiar woman holding tightly to a child.
 
I could see the woman’s tears, and I could see the abject fear on her face as the flames grew higher and hungrier, their tongues reaching towards them, smelling the sweetness of apprehension.
 

She turned to me and she reached her hand out, her dark eyes filled with hope, as though I were her salvation.
 
I felt my arm rise, felt it reach out towards her, but she was too far away.
 
I saw the way her eyes glossed over with unshed tears as the fire surrounded her, cutting off all means of escape, and I watched as the flames consumed her.
 
I could not close my eyes until hers blinked in the recognition of death, and the darkness that was there was replaced by amber gold.

It was then that I opened my eyes, not realizing that I had closed them, and noticed that the crystal seemed to have lost some of its sparkle.
 
Yesterday’s sun was definitely a fluke, I decided
 
as I looked out of my window and saw that the clouds were rolling through, settling in for another rainy October morning.
 
The sunlight that had warmed up the room and had helped the pretty bauble decorate my life with a bit of color was fading behind a gloomy Sunday morning.
 
Sighing, I placed the crystal on the nightstand next to my bed and headed downstairs.
 
My daydreaming had burned a few more minutes away, leaving me absolutely no time to be left alone with Dad while he plotted the dozens of ways he’d kill Robert.

As soon as my foot hit the bottom step, the doorbell rang.
 
Dad, having forgone his usual routine of sitting at the kitchen table to read his paper and eat his breakfast, had instead placed a cup of coffee and a plate of toast on the coffee table.
 
Alongside them was an unopened paper and a book on first aid.
 
He sat in the recliner, waiting, a contemplative look on his face.
 
I was tempted to ask if the book was for him or Robert, but kept my mouth shut.
 
It just wouldn’t do for me to start running off at the mouth.

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get up and get the door, I went to answer it.
 
I took a deep breath as I turned the handle on the knob.
 
He was standing there in the same black jacket he had worn the first day that I had seen him.
 
His hair was disheveled, but everything else about him was perfect.
 
His smile was reassuring, and his eyes were full of promise and reassurance.
 
Maybe there wouldn’t be a need for the first aid book after all.

He looked at me, puzzled, and his eyes softened with humor.
 
Your father has a first aid book out?
 
I could feel him, feel him in my thoughts as he searched my memory for the image, and when he saw it, he smiled.
 
He truly does love you.
 
You are very blessed, Grace.

I gaped at him.
 
My father was about to give him the third degree and here Robert was, praising the man.
 
Too perfect.

He grinned and held his arm out to the side of me.
 
“Ladies first.”

I sighed.
 
Even though it had been only a few minutes since I last heard him speak, hearing the words come out of his mouth reminded much I loved his voice.
 
“You should do that more often,” I prodded, “Just so I don’t ever forget what it sounds like.”

“I’ll remember to from now on.”
 
His smile was playful, teasing despite the reason his presence was required.

Entering the living room, I reached for his hand.
 
If Dad was going to give him the third degree, he’d do it while facing me, too.
 
Robert intertwined his fingers with mine.
 
It was the only thing either of us could do before the onslaught of Dad’s anger was upon us.