Grounded (44 page)

“Sam, would you mind if I stayed here while you go to the diner? I—I just don't feel like making small talk with total strangers tonight. If you see our car attendant, would you ask if he'd bring me a plate? Chicken's fine.”

Sam crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows beneath the little twists that hung over her forehead. “Grace Meredith. Is there something going on with you and a certain Bongo agent whose name we shall not mention? You guys were gone from the office a long time this afternoon.”

“Not that you suffered,” Grace shot back with a teasing grin. Sam's interview with another Bongo agent—Terry Schroeder, mid-thirties—had taken place at one of Denver's high-end Asian restaurants. “All
we
had was Chinese takeout in the park.”

“Uh-huh. That's what I'm talking about. Sounds
very
businesslike.”

Grace felt her face color. “Tell you when I figure it out myself.”

“Okay.” Sam's voice softened. “Just want you to know I care.” The door to their compartment slid shut behind her.

Grace curled up in the corner of the long couch by the window. The setting sun off to the west outlined the sharp peaks of the Rocky Mountains into inky silhouettes against a rosy sky. But even though the sunset was beautiful, she closed her eyes, wanting to relive everything that had happened that day …

The Riverfront Park along the Platte River not far from downtown Denver was a pleasant oasis from the bustling city, and the midday temperatures had risen into the low seventies. “Nice,” Grace murmured as she and Jeff found a stone bench to sit on.

They ate their egg rolls in silence for a few minutes, muted sounds of traffic behind them, while the narrow river—fuller at this time of year, Jeff said, from melting snows in the mountains—splashed over boulders and rocks and under street bridges in front of them.

Jeff cleared his throat. “Grace, if you don't mind, I need to ask you a question. But before I do, I need to warn you that this might seem to come out of left field. Just hang in here with me, okay?”

“Okay …”

“Just before the tour, you said your fiancé—”

“Ex-fiancé,” Grace corrected.

“Well, that's the thing. You said Roger asked if you'd consider giving the two of you another chance, and my question is, uh … have you decided to get back together with him?”

Grace didn't dare look at him. She just shook her head.

“Does that mean, no, you're not getting back together with him, or no, you haven't decided?”

She swallowed the mouthful of egg roll she'd been chewing. “Haven't decided.”

“I see.” Jeff was quiet for a long moment, his Chinese takeout seemingly forgotten on the bench beside him. “Well, if you're still thinking about it, what I'm about to say might complicate things.”

Now she did look at him. His gray eyes were fixed on her, the five o'clock shadow outlining his jawline in a sexy way, his dark curls kept neat by a recent haircut. She felt like she couldn't breathe.

He took a deep breath. “I think I've fallen in love with you, Grace Meredith.”

She white-knuckled the stone bench, as if holding on for dear life. She knew it might be something like this—and yet she hadn't dared put the actual thought into words in her own mind. Or heart.

Jeff put up his hands defensively. “I know it sounds crazy. We haven't spent that much time together. But ever since our first meeting—at your house, remember? You'd just gotten back from your New Year, New You tour. Your voice was shot, you could hardly talk. Roger had just dumped you—”

Grace found her voice, though it came out in a croak. “Just say it. I was a mess.”

He grinned at her. “Well … yes. Wasn't going to say that, though. What I was going to say is how mesmerized I was by you, in spite of all that. And then that freaky snowstorm … I was never so glad to get snowbound in my life. Me, totally unprepared for snow. You, drying my clothes and feeding me, in spite of the fact that we'd just met. But the real clincher? Playing Scrabble till after midnight.”

“And I won.”

He laughed. “Yes, you won. Twice.” His face sobered. “You won my heart too.”

Grace gulped. “I can't understand why. You said it yourself. I was a mess.”

Jeff reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “All I knew was, I'd just met a beautiful, incredible woman, and couldn't understand how her fiancé could just kick her to the curb like that. I think I started to love you then. Wanted to protect you, or punch the guy out. But it scared me. At first I denied it. I was your new agent, after all. Not supposed to fall in love with a client. But … the feeling wouldn't go away. I'd already listened to every CD Bongo had of your concerts. And every time I heard your voice, scratchy as it was, my feelings grew. I watched you fight to overcome some pretty big obstacles and I fell in love with your toughness, your passion—”

“Thought you said I'd lost it. Down in St. Louis, remember?”

“No, I knew that passion was still there. You just had to dig deep to find it again. And … and you did, Grace. Everything about this last tour has just confirmed what I knew all along about the amazing woman I met in Chicago.”

She believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself …
Harry Bentley's words echoed in her head. Grace's eyes teared up, and she fished in the pocket of her jacket for a tissue.

Jeff looked alarmed. “I'm sorry, Grace. I don't mean to upset you. If you tell me to stop, I will. But I couldn't stay silent any longer. When you told me Roger had asked you to patch up your relationship, and you were thinking about it, I thought I'd lost you. Then I realized I'd never told you how I feel. So … here I am, doing that very thing. I know it's crazy, and I'm probably way over the line here, but … I just want to know if there's any chance for us.”

Grace looked away, staring at the river rippling through the city, at the large buildings rising on the other side. “You don't really know me,” she whispered.

“But I love what I do know. And I'd like a chance to get to know you more.”

Grace gripped the stone bench again, afraid to look at him. Afraid she'd melt into his arms without thinking. But his gentle
words felt like cool water spilling over her spirit. Was this what love felt like? Was it real—or just a fragile bubble that would burst if he knew the truth …

He had to know. She had to tell him. She turned and met his eyes searching hers. “There's … there's something I need to tell you. About me.” She drew in a deep breath, her voice tremulous. “You wanted to know why I chose this new theme about grace, and I said I'd tell you later—but I think you need to know. You might change your mind …”

Taking a deep breath, she managed to get it out in fits and starts—about being raised “a good Christian girl,” and how everyone had so many high expectations of her, expectations that felt impossible to live up to. How much she wanted to fit in at school, to be liked. How naïve she'd been, dating a popular guy behind her parents' backs and ending up in the backseat of a car—and pregnant. “I couldn't face it. Couldn't face letting everybody down. So I …” Her eyes fell to her lap. “I had an abortion. And I never told anyone. But I hated myself. Thought God hated me too.”

“Oh, Grace. I'm so sorry. That must have been so hard to face alone.”

“I tried to make it up to God, to make myself worthy again—that's why I got so passionate about my purity theme. Huh. Traveling all over the country, people thinking I'm this great role model, telling kids they're ‘worth the wait.' But …” She lifted anguished eyes to his face, once again fighting back tears. “That woman you say you fell in love with? She was a fraud. A fake. Worth the wait? She didn't wait herself. All those years, living with secrets, afraid I'd be found out.”

Jeff seemed about to say something, but she lifted a hand to stop him. “I'm … I'm only now beginning to understand that God's grace is so much bigger than my sin. That's why I wanted to rename this tour, why I wanted to sing about God's gift of grace. But … I still didn't have the courage to tell my own story from the stage. I—I still haven't told my parents. Or Roger.” She paused, sobered by a sudden realization. “I haven't told Roger, but I've told you …”

Grace's shoulders began to shake with regret … and relief. Regret that she hadn't told her parents or Roger. Regret that she had to burst Jeff's bubble of the “wonderful woman” he thought she was.
But also relief that she'd been honest with him. She never wanted to live with secrets and fear, ever again. Even if the truth pushed away a truly wonderful man who'd just said he loved her. Who believed in her. Who—

But then she felt Jeff's arms go around her, and he pulled her close, holding her, his lips on her hair, whispering in her ear. “Oh, Grace. I'm so glad. So glad you trusted me enough to tell me, to let me know what you've been struggling with. None of us are perfect. You are who God made you to be. And I love the whole Grace even more than the Grace I knew before …”

A loud rap on the door of the sleeper bedroom shook Grace out of her memory of those precious moments in the park. Reluctantly she got up and slid back the door. There stood Billy, red-headed, owlish glasses perched on his rather short nose, holding a tray with a covered dish. “Your dinnah, madam!” he announced playfully. Did they call him Billy the Kid?

“Thank you so much.” She took the tray. She should give him a tip. But before she could get to her purse, he'd already disappeared down the hallway, whistling. Well, they'd take care of him later.

Grace sat back down. Jeff's words still echoed in her ears. What was it Mr. Bentley had also said about Estelle? …
She makes me feel like a complete person. Like I can be who God wants me to be
.

Jeff had always been totally supportive. Well, of course, he had to be. He was her agent. That was his job. And yet … it'd been more than that. Jeff sincerely believed her voice was a gift from God, and that she should use it to glorify him. But he was also sensitive to her needing time to recover, time to regroup, time to rebuild her confidence—and he'd done everything he could to build up her confidence too. Not just to sing again, but her confidence to be … herself.

Had she ever felt that kind of support from Roger?

Grace sighed. Maybe it wasn't fair to compare the two. Jeff had been thinking about her career. Roger had been thinking about their
life together. She couldn't totally dismiss his concern about how much she traveled and its impact on him … uh, she meant, on them.

Grace blinked. No. She was right the first time. He'd never once worried about the impact of her travel on
her
. It was always, “I don't like it.”

The door of the compartment slid open. “Grace Meredith!” Sam scolded. “You haven't touched your food! Bet it's all cold now. Good thing I brought you something to warm you up.” She handed Grace a disposable cup with a plastic lid. “Hot tea with lemon and honey. The café guy made it special.”

Grace took it gratefully, suddenly realizing she was hungry after all. “Don't worry, I'll still eat it. Just been thinking …”

“Mm. Let me know when you feel like talking.”

Grace nodded. She did want to talk to Sam. But not yet. She didn't need opinions. She needed … prayer.

As she lay in the dark later that evening, she turned her thoughts and her heart toward God.
God, I confess I … I think I love Jeff. But I don't want to rush into something I don't fully understand. I loved Roger once—if I gave our relationship a chance, would I love him again? I need your guidance! What is my next step? I need to talk to Roger—I owe him that much. But what do I say?

She'd been honest with Jeff. Before she and Roger could move forward, she needed to be honest with him too, about the Grace he didn't know. About the secrets of her past. About the spiritual crisis that had launched her new theme of God's undeserved grace. The truth about herself that she couldn't promise to keep private forever—not if God wanted her to share her story with the young men and women who came to her concerts, who thought they were the only ones who'd messed up.