Finding Grace: A Novel (2 page)

And she would find love…on her own
terms.

Chapter 2

“
An Old
Friend
”

Someone was staring at her.

As she stood in the back of the company
store, Grace tried to ignore the feeling of someone’s eyes upon
her. She was used to being observed at home, but this felt
different. She tried to look interested in the everyday objects
around her, thinking it might distract her from the feeling of
being watched.

There was lots of bric-a-brac in that part
of the store…ceramic washbasins and pitchers, barrels of grooming
brushes and small sets of furniture. Various pots and pans hung
from hooks, along with several styles of mirrors. She came to stand
in front of one, and very slowly, she raised her eyes. But it
wasn’t her reflection she looked at. In the mirror, she saw a
man...of middling height and lean build...standing a short distance
behind her. At that moment, he wasn’t looking directly at her. But
when she caught an upward flick of his eyes, she knew he was the
one. A knot of uneasiness started to form in her stomach. She knew
all of the people in this town, and he was not one of them. That
was easy enough to see simply by the way he looked. The clothes he
wore, while not exactly elegant, were certainly of better quality
than what her neighbors had. He wore a buttoned shirt of soft blue
color. His pants and shoes, both dark brown, looked new and tidy,
and the rest of him seemed to match. He was clean shaven, with
neatly clipped blond hair. The men she knew, with their unkempt
ways and ragged clothes, looked nothing like him, and she couldn’t
help staring...until his eyes suddenly locked with hers.

She felt a burning of embarrassment in her
cheeks, and she looked away. With her head down, she moved towards
the front of the store, where her father and her brothers offered
security and protection. But she wasn’t quick enough. The man
stepped in front of her, and she tried to make a quick
retreat...until he said her name.

“
Hi, Gracie.”

She turned around, staring at him. She felt
a strange shock at the bright green eyes that looked back at her.
But what shocked her more was that he knew her by name. Her look
was one of curiosity…and suspicion.

“
How do you know who I
am?”

A little grin rose up in the corner of his
mouth. "You don't remember me at all, do you?"

Odd, how he spoke with a slight accent that
was similar to hers, although it wasn’t as thick. There was
something stunning in his smile, and for a moment, it robbed her of
speech. She managed to shake her head in response as he reached out
to offer her his hand.

"Charlie," he said. When all she could
manage was an odd look, he added, "Charlie Hillard?"

Her face blossomed with recognition at the
name. She smiled slightly, stunned, putting her hand in his to
accept his gentle shake of greeting. "Well my goodness,” she said.
“I’d have never guessed it was you.”

He shrugged. “Time changes everything, I
suppose.”

She nodded, marveling at the sight of an old
childhood friend. "How did you know who I was?"

He turned his eyes up a little, as if he
were thinking for a moment. That crooked smile still shined on his
face. "Well," he said, "Some faces you forget…some you always
remember. And yours hasn't changed much."

She smiled. Her eyes were playful. "Is that
good or bad?"

He chuckled. "It's good. Your face was one I
always took a fancy to."

She blushed at the compliment, beaming, even
as she felt a sense of foolishness coming over her. For a moment
she cast her glance away, wondering where her good sense had gone.
They had known each other as children, after all. He was just a few
years older than she was. So why, then, did she feel so unsure of
herself? She tried to speak, to break the awkward silence, though
her voice was low and shy.

“
You look so different,
Charlie.”

His reply was a proud smirk. “I know. People
can’t call me pudgy anymore. The Army took care of that.”

Her eyes shined with interest. “You’re a
soldier?”

“
I was,” he replied, nodding
his head. “But I served my two years, so now I can move on to other
things.”

“
So what brings you back
here? How come you ain’t in Richmond?”

Charlie's face lost its cheerfulness…his
mouth forming a grim line. “My father is sick. He won't live very
long. Maybe a month, if that.”

She felt a little pain in her heart. “Oh,
Charlie, I'm sorry.” She had a sudden urge to lay a hand on his arm
to comfort him, but she dared not. He was an old friend, but he was
also a man, and she wasn’t sure how he would react to a gesture of
comfort. So she refrained.

They had not seen each other since Charlie's
mother had died, and his father had sent him away to live with his
aunt and uncle. She only knew part of the story, and it had been a
long time since she’d heard about it. But from what she could
remember of Charlie’s father, Walter Hillard was not the kindest of
men. It was hard to be sure, because no one ever saw much of him.
When he did make an appearance in town, his expression was often
dark…his person usually smelling of whiskey. She had to wonder why
Charlie would choose to return after all this time, especially for
the sake of someone who had abandoned him. But she dared not ask
him about it. It was not her place to inquire.

There was a moment of silence between them,
as each tried to think of something to say to the other. It was he
who spoke first.

"I should go. I have to get this medicine to
my father right away." The smile returned to his face as he looked
at her. "I hope I'll see you around now and then."

She nodded and smiled back, unable to get
words out without making a fool of herself. What was it about that
smile of his that stole her senses, making her feel so funny
inside? She could only nod her head as he tipped his hat to her.
Turning with a smooth stride, he walked away…and she felt a sudden
sadness at seeing him go.

Her father called for her, and she hurried
to follow him and her brothers out of the store. All the while, she
felt as if she had wings on her feet. Her mind raced with
excitement, her heart fluttering like mad. How long had it been
since she'd known such a deep feeling of joy? She could not
remember. She wasn't quite sure why the feeling held her so
strongly. The encounter, after all, had not been anything so
extraordinary or unusual, but it held her just the same, and she
quickly ceased to question its existence. It would not last forever
- common sense said that. But she intended to delight in it for as
long as she could.

* * * * *

She felt the bowl of fruit slip from her
fingers. It hit the floor…just as her father’s hand struck the back
of her head, hard.

“
Watch your clumsy hands!
Them peaches are for your Mama’s dessert cobbler.”

She nodded as she knelt down to clean up the
mess. She knew she should have been paying more attention, the way
she usually did. Most of the time, she was very vigilant in her
actions, always watching to avoid mistakes. But since that morning
at the store, her common sense seemed to have vanished. She
couldn’t stop thinking of Charlie, and she really didn’t want to.
He was on her mind all the rest of that day, and into the night as
well.

Later as she lay in bed, she thought of how
much he’d changed. As a boy, he’d been a bit heavy, and rather shy.
He’d been a little clumsy too, but he had been so sweet. Now, she
saw very little of that awkward boy.

It was his eyes that she remembered so well,
and the way he looked at her…with that smile. No one had ever
looked at her that way before. If she’d been a believer in magic,
she would have sworn he'd cast a spell on her, to make her heart
beat so and send her thoughts reeling this way.

Then a moment of sense returned to her, and
she chastised herself for her wild thoughts and feelings.

Grace Langdon, you are the
biggest fool in the world
.
If there were such a thing as magic, why would it
be wasted on the likes of you?

She wanted to be logical…to think with her
head, and not her heart. And yet, it was the voice of her heart
that spoke louder. All through the night she slept fitfully, the
two powers of hope and reason warring for control, until at last
she came to a decision.

She needed to see him again. Judge his
words, study his reactions. Only then could she begin to tame this
struggle within her soul.

* * * * *

Out in the bean patch, she sat on an
overturned bucket. Her back was bent low as she searched the leaves
for the hateful little vegetables. Under the blazing sun, her
bonnet didn’t offer much protection. Sweat trickled into her eyes,
and she ran her sleeve across her face. For a moment, she sat up to
take a breath and to stretch her back, which ached miserably from
the way she was forced to crouch down. She sighed, bending back to
resume her work…and she jumped in sudden fright, startled by one of
the barn cats as it pounced on a field mouse. Fury drove her up to
her feet. Rocks flew from her hands.

“
Devilish beast!” It would
have served the wretched varmint right to have its head cracked by
a stone…and it would have served her temper as well. She needed
something to unleash her frustrations upon, especially of
late.

It had been a week since she’d seen Charlie.
After seeing him at the store, her hopes had been high that he
might make an appearance, maybe drop in for supper one afternoon.
But each day went by without an appearance or a word. Before long,
the joy she'd felt at seeing him started to fade, and soon, her
spirits were lower than they'd ever been before. Had he been a
ghost, appearing for that brief time, only to vanish without a
trace? She knew he was tending to his father, which of course that
would be taking up all of his time. But still, she had a selfish
wish that he would take time to come and visit. Heaven knew there
was little chance of their meeting any other way.

It made her heart sink a little when she
thought of it. Their school days were long gone, and they wouldn’t
see each other at church. The Langdons were Methodists, and the
Hillards had always been devout Baptists, so their paths did not
cross in religious circles. Trips into town were rare, so that was
not much of an option. On top of everything else, Walter Hillard
did not live nearby. As a child, Charlie had lived with his mother
and father on a nearby farm - a beautiful place with a gleaming
white house and a big red barn, set in a huge plot of rich bottom
land. But after the death of his wife, Mr. Hillard had abandoned
the old place and moved into a little shack high up in the hills.
Now, that was where Charlie was, and for the time, it was where he
would remain.

Thinking of all that, she began to wonder
what had really happened to the Hillards all those years ago. She
knew that Mrs. Hillard had died, but beyond that, the details were
pretty vague. When it had happened, people had talked about it in
whispers, so she hadn’t caught much of it. She could remember her
mother and someone else discussing it, but when Grace got too
close, the talking ceased. Her curiosity had eventually faded, as
the topic was eventually forgotten in time. But now it sprang back
to life in her mind, and being a nearly full-grown woman, she felt
she had the right to ask questions and hopefully have them
answered.

As she set the table for supper that night,
she looked at her mother, who was stirring a pot on the stove and
humming to herself. Mrs. Langdon was in a good mood…a rare thing to
see, but in this case, a welcome thing. That might have had
something to do with the fact that, this being Sunday afternoon,
the house was empty and quiet except for the two of them. Mr.
Langdon had taken all the boys fishing, and Grace usually was happy
to join them, but today she had preferred to spend her time alone.
Now she was glad she had done so. To ease her way into the subject,
she started with a bit of small talk.

“
Mama, guess who I saw in
town the other day?”

“
Charlie Hillard,” her
mother answered

Grace’s mouth formed a little circle of
surprise.

“
How did you
know?”

Rachel looked slightly annoyed by the
question. “For heaven’s sake, Gracie. Everybody knows by now that
he's back in town. And everyone knows about his father being so
sick. Poor old Walter.”

So there is sympathy
there
, Grace said to herself. Thinking of
that, she wondered if this might be a good time to press for
information. What would be the harm in doing so? Feeling a little
bit braver now, she spoke.

“
Mama,” she began. “How did
Charlie’s mother die?”

Rachel turned down the fire on the stove.
She opened the oven to take out a skillet of corn bread. She turned
it over on a plate, and then turned it right side up. Grace waited
with half-hearted patience, wondering if her mother had even heard
the question. But she hadn’t long to wait. As Rachel took a knife
from the drawer and began to slice the corn bread, she began at
last to speak.

“
I don’t know if you
remember her much,” she said. “You were hardly seven at the time.
Charlie was about nine, and Katie was a few months away from having
another child. Walter had just left the house one morning, when he
heard her screaming. He ran back as fast as he could.”

Grace’s eyes grew wide with apprehension,
and Rachel paused in her story. Wanting to know it all, Grace asked
with some hesitation, “What happened?”