Healing Grace (18 page)

The other problem was Tanya.

The girl had agreed to help watch Eddy over the summer. Shelby wasn’t planning to return to her former daycare business and helped out upon occasion after school. With his nephew complaining about lack of playtime with Grace and the stinky baby at Shelby’s, Ted was stressed, which didn’t help his health.

But if Tanya was on the other side of the hedge with Eddy, Jimmy was bound to sniff it out. After last summer’s sparks, who knows what trouble they’d cook up now? One thing for sure—Jimmy needed a job of his own if he was going to stay until he went to college in September. Washing dishes in Soo might not have been the most sought-after position, but it had been steady. The boy needed to occupy his time and keep his work ethic muscle in shape.

For two weeks Jimmy sweated picking at the local cherry orchards before flatly refusing to return. Randy had been rushing around getting ready to go to work and not in the mood to discuss the situation at that particular hour of the morning.

Angered, he sputtered, “You made a commitment, Jimmy. Everyone’s counting on you.”

“I’m sure they’re nice people, Dad.” Jimmy didn’t meet his eyes. “And yeah, I know everyone has to work hard. But I don’t understand Spanish. And they make fun of me when I can’t even defend myself.”

Randy opened his mouth.

Jimmy cut in. “And I have a scholarship. I don’t need more money for college. I been
saving
.”

Randy’s mouth pursed. Then he sighed and contemplated his son’s huge feet. “And when you fail English and have to stay another year? What then? Son, you have no idea.”

Jimmy slammed open the screen door, shouting. “That’s what everyone says! Why can’t you just let me find out for myself? I’m supposed to be a
man
now and everyone treats me like a kid!”

Randy looked at the door, heaved a breath, and drove to the co-op headquarters. What was a father to do?

East Bay was a hidebound community. It didn’t take long for the stories to circulate back to Randy. He could have guessed that, having nothing else to do, Jimmy discovered what days he might find Tanya not in the stuffy café uniform but in a cute and skimpy swimsuit and playing at the park with his cousin.

They told him, the ladies at the gift shops around the square, how Jimmy and another gaggle of boys hung around, discouraging their customers. No one wanted to pass the half-dressed, dirty boys and their smoke and spit to come inside and spend money.

He needed to do something about those boys. And tell that girl to put some clothes on.

How to approach his son? Was there any way possible, Lord, Lord, to have an actual conversation with a teenaged boy who thinks he’s an adult, without being treated like the Grand Inquisitor? Randy ran a stoplight on the way home. At least the crossroad had been empty, and only Madge Hardaway who watered the plants at church, stopped on the other side, saw him and honked.

Randy rolled into the driveway. Should he start the conversation with the story of his own failure? A question? A comment? Oh, God.

Pulsating music floated from behind the house. He followed it to spy his shirtless man child sprawled on a blanket, radio parked near his ear.

Randy loosened his tie and sat down. Jimmy opened one eye. Then the other.

Randy took a deep breath. “I think we should talk about girls.”

Jimmy rolled over onto his stomach and didn’t stop talking until the mosquitoes drove them inside.

The short version was he had dropped the ball with Tanya. He didn’t know what happened, why after Christmas he wasn’t all that keen on texting anymore. Not having her voice right in his ear made her seem too unreal—too far away. Jimmy was also embarrassed to tell her that his mom grounded him from the phone for the big bill he incurred after Thanksgiving.

The best he could do was watch her this summer since she wouldn’t talk to him. That’s why he went to the park so much.

Then the guys showed up. Coulda stuck his finger in a socket and not shocked him worse. “I mean, Dad, how did they know? The first time I heard Robert say ‘yo,’ I knew there was going to be issues.”

Randy figured he knew which boy was Robert. Hair was as shaggy as Jimmy’s, but streaked. A gold circle gleamed around one earlobe and scruffy black hairs spouted from a soul patch underneath his bottom lip.

“Jason, and Paul, too.”

“Which is the one who smokes?”

“Paul. Home-rolls.”

“Those were the ones in your band, right?”

“Yeah, Dad. I told them I wanted to
play
music, man. I didn’t want that backstage scene they were doing.”

Randy shivered. Should he ask? “You were uncomfortable?”

“I just wanted the music.” Jimmy rolled over. “They told me they wanted to see the dunes.”

“Let me guess. You were all at the park where Tanya and Eddy were playing.”

“Yeah.” He put an arm across his eyes. “I told them to leave her alone.”

“And that didn’t go over too well.”

“You could say that.”

“Do you know if they’re still hanging around? Or where they’re staying?”

“No. Please—don’t do anything, okay?” Jimmy sat up and begged him with an earnestness that Randy remembered from his own youth. “I’ll deal with it.”

Randy nodded, certain he was going to regret it.

As a physician’s assistant at the medical clinic Grace felt useful if unremarkable. She was still called to heal, just not be spectacular about it. There had been no “recharge” after working on little Alyssa, no sparks when she touched her patients, no rush…nothing special. Since she longed for anonymity, could she accept that the special gift to perform miracles had fizzled out? The only thing it hurt was her pride, and that she could do without. She didn’t have that sheepskin with her credentials for nothing.

The clinic counted on steady funding from the fruit growers’ co-op, for which she knew Greg was grateful. Migrant workers came in all summer, and she enjoyed learning a few phrases of whatever nationality they were.

A few bothersome annoyances persisted. Tony’s eyes widened every time he saw Grace. She no longer took care of him, per his mother’s request. Since Tony was a little monster, she could deal with that.

One slow afternoon at the clinic she volunteered to take inventory as Nancy wanted to put together a restock order. Grace sat on a low stool to take a breather after counting towels. She heard a polite cough and looked up.

Greg leaned against the door frame, his legs and arms crossed. “Quarter for your thoughts?”

She laughed. “Inflation that high?”

“Are you okay? Things going all right? I know the pay can’t be living wages for you, and I know you don’t always—”

“I’m fine, Greg.” His concern for her welfare was a surprise. They had treated each other with friendly professional deference since Christmas. “It’s nice of you to be concerned, but I assure you I have no financial worries.”

Greg stood up straight and put his hands in his pockets. “How about your house, then? I can recommend repairmen, or help out with some”— he grimaced—“ah,
simple
, work, if you need anything done. Or work on your car.”

Grace smirked. “You forgot lawn-mowing. All those helpless female chores,” she teased. Greg’s expression sobered. She stopped smiling.

He looked down at his feet. “I just thought I’d remind you—I care.”

She set the towels on the wire shelf and stood up, facing him. “Greg.” She touched his arm. “Thank you. Really. I don’t mean to be one of those people who can’t accept help from anyone. I appreciate your offer, and your…care. I see it all day long, and I know that you’re sincere.”

She dropped her hand and stepped back. “People around here rely on you. They don’t really understand how much you’ve given up to stay in East Bay to care for them.”

Greg took it all in. “And you? Will you ever be able to rely on me?”

“I have, ever since I first met you.”

He unfolded his arms and took a step toward her. “You know what I mean. I backed off. Since Christmas, I’ve sat back. I’ve waited and watched. Things are not getting better.”

Nancy breezed in through the door, crowding the little space with her perpetual annoying cheerfulness.

“Have you got that order, Grace? MediCo is on the line and I want to save our dime if they’re calling here first.”

“Sure, Nancy. I’ll come with you.” Grace moved past Greg, asking him with her eyes to drop the matter. His own hooded expression told her that he wasn’t finished.

* * * *

“Let’s play hooky,” Ted greeted her one late June Saturday morning. “We feel like going to the beach today. Wanna come?”

Eddy wiggled at his father’s side, grasping the metal cross bar of the new crutch.

How could she resist the display of unusual cheer? Ted was often morose these days, and seeing him in a good mood was worth its weight in—raspberries!

Glad she’d started working with the berries before it got too warm, she wiped her hands on her apron, wondering how Ted would manage crutches on the sand. Well, if he thought he could, who was she to spoil the party? “Hmm, sounds like a plan. I just have this last batch of jam to set up. Can you wait for a while?”

“It smells soooo good, Grace. Can I help?”

Eddy’s “help” might cost the rest of the morning. His enthusiastic stirring last time spun a goodly portion of the sticky red stuff on her table, the chair, through the seams of the leaves of the table, the floor, and his shirt front. She tried to let him down gently. “Thanks, my little man, but I have to finish the cooking and stirring.”

Ted caught her hesitation. “Why don’t you show me what’s new at the playhouse, Eddy? We’ll come back when Grace is done, okay?”

She watched them amble around the corner before she went back inside to finish the batch of jam and make a picnic lunch.

Ted drove them drove north on M131 an hour later.

“You people don’t seem very imaginative on naming your roads,” she commented after passing signs for exiting onto 9 Mile, 14 Mile, and 22 Mile Roads. “I can see why the country folk feel at home here, though,” she continued. “The hills aren’t so high nor the valleys so deep, but it has the same wild and lonesome feel.”

She looked over at Ted’s profile. Sunglasses perched on his nose and his hair fluttered in the breeze of the open window. Intimate scents of soap mingled with warmed skin wafted in her direction.

He glanced at her. “No fighting over using family or American Indian names this way. We’ll reach the tourist spots soon enough. The shoreline has gotten all built up over the few years. Industry has obviously changed from agriculture, general farming, and the like. There used to be a thriving lime works, too. That, and the mission are what started Petoskey going, if I remember right, after the railroad went in.”

“Petoskey?”

Eddy sang in the backseat. “Pitashkey, pitashkey.”

“Pe-tah-sky,” Ted repeated, over the sound of his son. “It was the name of an Ottawa man who owned a lot of land on the shoreline. Or, I guess, technically, his name was changed to this pronunciation and spelling by the white settlers.”

He hummed, tapping the steering wheel. At least he seemed comfortable in the driver’s seat today. Grace sat back. “How far are we going?”

“Not much farther. You need to stop?”

She laughed. “No. I was just curious. I didn’t hear you say where we were headed.”

“Right.”

“You’re kidnapping me?”

He gave a cheeky grin. “If you want to look at it that way, go ahead.”

Grace stuck out her tongue. She turned to stare out the window as they came into the next city. Charlesvoix perched alongside the bay, its quaint and beautiful Victorian homes lining the street.

Ted seemed intent on stuffing her full of history. “You can probably tell by the name that this part of the state was deeply influenced by the French. Fur-traders, ’way back. That’s where most of the early money was made. The good old days of John Jacob Astor.”

Eventually they wound around the shore to the village of Petoskey which overlooked Little Traverse Bay. Ted drove past the trendy marina, tidy buildings, and ballpark. “We’ll stop at the Historical Society Museum on our way back,” he told her as he pointed out the pretty blue-gray and white painted building. They traveled along the coast to the north until they came to Petoskey State Park. Ted drove in through the gate to the ranger station.

“It’s usually best to come here in the morning, early in the season after the ice is off, but that doesn’t mean you can’t find them anytime.”

Grace didn’t have a clue what he meant. This time she refused to ask for clarification. She began to leaf through the brochures Ted handed her after showing their park tag.

“Petoskey stones,” she read aloud, “are Michigan’s state fossil.”

For a petty second she was pleased at hunting up this answer for herself. “So, we’re hunting for rocks?”

“Not just any rocks. These are special. They were part of an ancient reef off the coast of Lake Michigan, and break off due to wave action, washing in toward shore. They’re gray, anonymous-looking things, actually. The pieces are all sizes. It’s easiest to see the pattern of the reef when they’re wet. It appears like clusters of white rings, or sometimes sorta like broccoli. They’re really cool when polished. People even make jewelry out of them.”

“Oh! I think I’ve seen some at an antique store.”

They drove in toward the beach through the dunes and parked the car.

“Are we gonna find one today?” Eddy asked his father.

“They’re not always easy to spot, remember? Especially with all these people around, looking, too. But we’ll have fun checking out the beach, won’t we?”

Grace admired the way Ted left hope for his son, but also did not promise something he couldn’t be sure of.

They walked along the narrow waterfront, moving at a slow pace. Eddy skipped among the waves on the sandy beach which was filled with people wading up to their knees, eagerly searching in the breakers for the special fossils. After struggling across the deeper gravel to get to the water’s edge, Ted had fairly easy walking where the wet sand gave him smoother ground to travel. Using only one crutch, he held Grace’s hand. Support, she could give.