Rhythms of Grace (44 page)

“Sounds like maybe we both have something to tell. You go first.”

Zeely sniffed. “Sometimes it’s best to leave the past alone.”

My thumb ran along the seat belt as I processed what she was saying. What she wasn’t saying. Whatever those tears running down her face were about was big. Too big to carry alone.

“I noticed you’ve been having . . . company. Is everything all right? Do you need to talk?”

“I’m not ready to talk. Just pray for me. And I’m sorry I’m not here for you right now. It’s just—” She ran a hand up her neck, behind her ear. A whimper escaped her lips.

I leaned across the seat and took her hand. “It’s okay. We’ll get around to it. Girls’ night out maybe.”

“Thanks for understanding.” She turned into the gas station and stopped at the first pump. “I forgot to fill up.”

Maybe she was human after all. I dug a twenty out of my purse. My friend pushed it away, sliding her purse up on her shoulder. A gold envelope with black and green accents fell out of her bag and onto the seat. She handed it to me.

“Oh yeah. This came for you. Someone put it in my box by mistake.” She winced an apology. “Probably been there a couple days.”

The car door slammed, leaving me alone with the letter penned in handwriting I recognized all too easily. On a hunch, I lifted the envelope to my nose. There it was, cucumber melon aftershave. I jammed the letter into my bag. Zeely had got one thing right: some things are better left alone.

66

Carmel

“It’s a . . . girl!”

I smiled as the young girl above me fell back to the bed, exhausted and overjoyed. I bundled the baby in a blanket and lifted her toward the new mother. The girl tried to reach up, but fell back again.

The baby’s grandmother took the warm handful instead. She peeked beneath the folds. “Oh Megan. Look at her. She looks just like Daddy, doesn’t she? Look at that frown. That’s him in the morning.”

“Hey . . .” The old man’s gruff voice objected from the back of the room.

I lingered, gathering the used supplies for cleaning.

The doctor nodded to me and tossed his gloves in the trash. “Nice job. Are you on tomorrow?”

I sighed. “No, I’m supposed to be off now. This is my second double this week.”

He smiled. “We all love you, that’s why.” He turned to the new mom and patted her knee. “You did a good job too, young lady. See you next year.” He started for the door.

The girl looked at me. “Is he crazy?”

I laughed. Dr. Washington always said that to the young mothers. Reverse psychology probably. From the look on the girl’s face, it worked. “Most of the girls do come back. And soon.”

“Not me. I love my baby and everything, but I should have listened . . . It hurt so bad!” She grimaced and turned over in the bed.

The girl’s grandmother stroked her hair. “Lord willing, we won’t be back. We’ll make it.”

Three other nurses entered the room. The girl, transformed into a woman by the rites of labor, moaned in pain. “Oh . . . it hurts again.”

The other nurses circled the bed. One massaged the girl’s belly.

“Ow!” She twisted, grabbing the rails.

I walked to the top of the bed and whispered in the girl’s ear. “You’re doing fine.” I wished I could say the same for myself. I rubbed my eyes, strained from watching monitors, anticipating the doctor’s needs. I could go home now, should have gone hours ago, but this girl, this delivery, reminded me so much of Monique’s experience that I’d stayed. Another nurse arrived, whisking the baby off to the nursery.

The grandmother squeezed my shoulder. “Thank you. I don’t think we could have made it without you. Last night before you got here, I was sure she’d end up with a caesarean. You’ve been a blessing.” She pulled a card from her purse.

Tender Mercies Church. The healing place.

Church. With work and not wanting to invade Jerry and Zeely’s space, I hadn’t been there in so long. Monique and I had visited a church in the neighborhood a few times, but we’d spent most of our time downstairs or in the hallway trying to quiet the baby. I settled for reading my Bible each day at work, listening to Charles Stanley on the Internet each morning, and praying. Lots of praying. The more Sean came around, the more I prayed.

I passed the card back with a smile. “My daughter has a baby too. We’ve tried to go to church, but it doesn’t work so well. Maybe when she’s older. Thanks for asking though.”

“You have a grandbaby too? I should have known. You’ve been so sweet.” She held the card out again. “Please come. I work in the nursery. The baby will be fine. Your daughter can go to the youth group or sit with you—”

“She’ll stay with me.”

The lady looked down at her granddaughter, still quivering under the sheets. She rubbed the girl’s knee. “I don’t blame you. The service will be better anyway. The pastor is doing a good series right now. She’ll enjoy it too.”

Maybe. “Okay. What’s the topic?”

“Forgiveness.”

Forgiveness. I could use some of that. For myself, for allowing Monique to follow in my troubled footsteps. For Monique, for being too weak last year and too strong this year. And for Jerry, for being such a good man, but loving someone else. I tucked the card in my pocket.

“We’ll be there.”

67

Grace

I tried to act natural in class, like Brian’s note wasn’t burning a hole in my pocket, like I wasn’t losing my mind. It didn’t work. Both Jerry and the students were too peppy for my mood.

“This little hat means the guy is crazy. Wild. What do we call him?” Jerry asked the class, pointing to the board.

“Radical!” A new girl in the back stood up to answer. A snacksized chocolate bar sailed through the air.

I managed a smile. What would Jerry come up with next? I tried to join in. “And radicals can’t tolerate what kind of people?”

“Negative. A radical cannot contain negativity.” Sean leaned across his desk in the front row. He stared past me at Jerry, as if his answer held more meaning. No gum or candy flew across the room. The bell rang, drowning out the tense silence. I wasn’t proud of it, but I was glad to see them go.

Perceptive as always, Jerry turned to me as the kids filed out. “Do you still need to step out for a minute? Go ahead. They’ve got a test next period.”

I nodded. “Thanks. I’ll be back in a bit.” I stepped into the hall. And into Brian.

He grinned. “Where you headed?” He stepped closer.

“Bathroom.” I tried to ignore the thunder in my chest at the sight of him. The smell of him. Coconut today. He must have oiled his hair. I tried not to think about that.

“Faculty bathroom?”

I nodded, starting off in that direction.

He followed. “I’ll walk you down.”

He’s killing me and not so softly.

“Did you get my note?”

I patted my pocket and stopped at the bathroom door.

He chuckled. “O-kay. Just don’t throw it away.” He started back toward his classroom.

I shoved myself into the bathroom, painted an ice blue that made me cringe but would have relaxed Peter. I dropped into the chair next to a vanity, whispering thanks to Joyce mentally for the small comfort. I took the envelope out and rested it on my lap, where it balanced precariously like a bomb in a minefield. I was making way too much of it. It was probably just a thank-you for teaching with him or something else just as harmless. I ripped through the flap, revealing the gold foil inside.

Dear Diana Grace,

I have something I’d like to share with you. Please
honor me with your presence for dinner this Friday at
7 PM. I’ve enclosed a map to my house.

Yours,

Brian

P.S. Bring Zeely too.

I read the closing again.

Yours.

Had he left out sincerely by mistake? I tried to breathe. He had something to share. What was this—true confessions week? I dared not imagine what he might say. At least I’d have Zeely along.

I took a deep breath and tucked the note back into my sweater pocket, realizing that I had already decided to go. No prayer, no thought, no nothing. I was in deep trouble.

The bathroom door took more pull to get out than the push to get in. My muscles cried out as I walked back to class. If anyone had asked, I would have blamed my staggering on tired muscles, but in my heart I knew the truth: the invitation in my pocket had sucked any remaining strength I possessed.

h Zeely handled the invitation much better than I did. At the end of the day, I’d wandered into the hall, where I knew Brian would be, mumbling something about how fine dinner would be and thank you and you don’t have to cook, you know. He smiled to keep from laughing and thanked me for coming.

“You won’t be sorry,” he said. “I promise.”

Another promise. Just what I didn’t need. The weatherman had said sunny skies for the afternoon. Little chance of snow.

It looked like a blizzard had done its thing while we were in the classroom. Snow still drifted down now and then, as if the clouds weren’t quite sure whether to keep back or give away. I wiped the cold from my face and walked to Zeely’s car. Knowing that I’d lose my nerve if I waited, I handed Brian’s note across to Zeely as soon as I got in.

She skimmed it quickly and handed it back. “I’m not going.”

For the second time today, I stared at my friend in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

The engine of her pink Cadillac slowed to a purr. “I’m serious. I have . . . plans tonight. I can’t get out of it.” She checked her face in the mirror. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t go.” She turned on the main road, her car sliding toward home.

I didn’t know what Zeely’s drama was, but she was really getting on my nerves. “Make up your mind, okay? A few weeks ago you chewed me out for letting Brian come to my house. Now you’re ready to turn me loose alone with him?”

Zeely positioned her hands on the steering wheel, ten o’clock and two o’clock. “You two defy rules. I’m sick of you both. And—”

“What?”

“Now that I’ve been teaching with Brian, for some reason, I trust him. Kind of.”

Me too.

But didn’t people always trust the friendly neighborhood rapists and serial killers? Mal was crazy, true enough, but something of what he’d said still lingered in my mind. What if all my—our— instincts about Brian were wrong? “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

Zeely pulled onto our street. “If that’s what you really want.”

Good thing we were getting close to home. If we were in this car much longer I might strangle her.

“You know what I really want?” I went on without waiting for her reply. “The truth. He has something to tell me, so I’m going. I’m a grown woman. I can handle this.”

Zeely nodded and pulled up to the curb in front of my condo.

“Just be careful, Grace,” she said. “Sometimes the truth hurts.”

68

Ron

I stared out the picture window beyond the desk in front of me. From this perch, I couldn’t see the ground outside, but that was good. Today I didn’t want to look down. What I needed to see was up high, here in Freedom Tower, clouds foaming against the winter sky, forming a cross of condensation. A cross of tears. My tears.

If only I could cry them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” John Bent, Mindy’s father and my former employer, lowered his hulk into the seat across from me. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem. How are you?”

The older man sighed, his chins flapping against each other. “I’m a lot better now that I know you and my Melinda are together again. I’d be much better if you would come on back to work—”

“Sir . . .”

Mr. Bent raised his hand. “I know I’m pushing. Can’t help it, I guess. That case you took, I just didn’t think it was a good idea once I had more time to think about it. Didn’t seem like it turned out to be much anyway. At least not so far. I should have talked to you myself.”

Communication. What a novel concept. “That might have been better, sir.”

“Yes, well. Hindsight and all that, eh? Anything new with that situation?”

I shifted in my chair. Is this what he’d called me in for? To fish around for information on Brian? “The woman I was representing might drop the charges. It’s not official yet, but the case may be over soon.”

Laughter lit Bent’s cheeks, blushing up to his nonexistent hairline and back to the middle of his head. “Over indeed. You see? I knew the Lord would work it out. They didn’t need you. Those people can work out their own problems.” He reached in his drawer and pulled out a certified check with my name on it. A pudgy finger covered the amount, but I saw five zeros extending beyond the man’s manicured nail. Bent scribbled his signature at the bottom and handed it over. “They can take care of their problems and I know how to take care of mine.”

My hands remained on my lap. My eyes went back to the window. The cloudy cross remained.

“I can’t take that.”

“Please. Do. Melinda’s had some . . . problems in the past. Some things we aren’t so proud of. But I see you’re willing to overlook those things. I respect that. Admire it. And things that I admire, I buy.”