Saving Gracie (22 page)

CHAPTER 35

QUINLAN AND ANGELA

“
Good afternoon, Quinlan
.” The greeting appeared in the text box on the screen.

“Good afternoon,” she voiced to the monitor.

“
You have a name to enter?
” the message read.

She typed G-R-A-C-I-E and hit enter.

An immediate reply flashed back. “
Do you mean Grace?
”

“Of course I mean Grace, you crazy computer.” She smirked and typed Y-E-S, then scanned her surroundings for snoopers. Thankfully, she found the aisle empty.

The next message appeared, listing three options causing Quinlan’s jaw to drop.

Weekly Events

Synopsis

Current Events

Her heart raced. Mere moments away from…whatever. “Where do I start?”

“Remember what you’ve learned.” The voice filtering through her ear buds caused her to jump.

Quinlan’s spine straightened, and a chill shimmered downward. “Angela? Is that you?”

“Take it slow,” Angela instructed.             

How’d she do that? Quinlan stood and searched her immediate surroundings for the ground patrol. Nothing. She looked again, feeling she was somehow being watched. Strange. Leaning back in the chair, she chewed on her thumbnail and tried to relax.
Take it slow
, Angela had said. She set her lips in a tight line and clicked
Weekly Events
.

The screen blinked blue, then produced a column listing every week of Gracie’s life. Quinlan stared, the page numbers climbing. She massaged her scalp with her fingertips, foregoing any hairdo concerns. “I don’t think…this is what I want.” She blinked hard, knowing just enough about computers to get herself in trouble.

“Try the back arrow in the upper left-hand corner,” Angela said.

She clicked and retrieved the three entries, releasing a barely audible
thank you
.

“You’re welcome,” Angela said.

While spider exercising her fingers, Quinlan studied the other two options and then clicked
Synopsis
.

The message box beamed
select time frame
with a pull-down menu and two small calendars to enter begin and end dates. Quinlan clicked the arrow and scrolled down till she found the time segment of her transition to as near to the present as she could estimate. She hit enter and settled back, ready to read.

Vacations with family at Port Aransas

Concerned about Adam

Gracie in charge during Adam’s absence

Volunteers at summer program

Bonds with emotionally distraught deaf child

Contemplates return to college

Everything past the third item blurred. Gracie in charge? The words burned through her veins like a white-hot branding iron on a pig’s ass. Bile-filled panic clogged her throat. Thoughts of her grandchildren being stranded who knows where, Gracie pouring water on a grease fire…sandwiches for dinner! Could it get any worse?

“Dates. I need dates.” Quinlan jerked the mouse pointer around the page, trying to manage her panic. Was she too late?

“The calendar icon in the upper right-hand corner.”

The sound through the earpieces nearly catapulted Quinlan out of her chair. Bridget? Now she had two voices in her head…besides her own…that she knew of.

“Okay, okay. Calendar icon.” She grabbed the mouse with both hands to steady her shaky fingers and clicked. Dates appeared beside each entry. She scanned the list until she found a trip Adam made to Chicago. She checked the month. June. She scrolled further and found another Chicago trip scheduled for August.

“What’s today’s date?” she yelled, not bothering to lower her voice. Relatively sure June had passed; she only hoped she wasn’t too late for the August trip.

“Upper right corner. Next to the calendar,” Bridget instructed.

Quinlan’s eyes shot up to the corner of the screen and gasped.

October? “How can that be?” Panic-stage resurfaced. “But…that…means….” Quinlan’s excessive rapid breathing caused the oxygen level to increase, forcing out all the carbon dioxide in her system: in short, hyperventilation.

“Quinlan!” Angela’s voice blared through the earpieces. “Get a grip!”

“But…you…don’t…understand.” The words backed up in her throat. Her hands and toes tingled.

With light speed, Bridget appeared at her side with a brown sack.

Not the bag thing again, Quinlan thought as Bridget pressed the lunch sack over her face.

“Take it easy,” Bridget said. “Slow your inhalations.”              

Quinlan slumped back in the chair, hoping she wouldn’t faint. Several minutes passed before her breathing ebbed. She pushed the sack away…raising her eyes to Bridget she forced a sheepish smile. “I bet you have to do this a lot.”

“No…not really.” Bridget avoided Quinlan’s eyes. “Feeling better?”

Trying the normal breathing routine several times, Quinlan answered, “I’m fine now.” She fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt and then patted her hair, working to regain her composure. A final deep breath assured her the episode had subsided. She straightened in the chair and turned to thank Bridget. Once again, she had vanished.

Blinking hard at the empty aisle, Quinlan puzzled briefly over Bridget’s disappearing acts before returning to the computer. The monitor screen had cleared, reverting to cobalt blue. She leaned forward and read the small text box. “Timed out–going into sleep mode.”

Quinlan shot to her feet and pointed stiff-armed at the blue screen. “No!” she yelled, “I’m not finished!”

“I’m afraid you are,” Bridget piped in through the ear buds.

“But…I need more time.” Quinlan’s mind buzzed. “Where’s Angela? I
need
Angela.” The smoothness and finesse of this Bridget person irritated the h-e-double hockey sticks out of her.

“Quinlan. The timing is for a reason.” The voice through the ear buds switched to Angela. “Trust the process. Can you do that?”

“Angela, you saw the date!” Quinlan’s knees felt ready to buckle. She steadied herself, not wanting to go another round with the lunch sack. “This is an emergency. You’ve got to help me!”

“I am helping you,” Angela said. “Now. Can you trust the process?”

Silence reigned through the earpieces. A long minute passed.

“I know you’re there. I can hear your teeth grinding,” Angela said.

Her shoulders dropped. “I’m here.”

“Need I repeat the question?” Angela’s tone was steady.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Of course you do,” Angela said, reproach in her voice. “Free will. Remember? It’s a bit early in the game to forget about free will.”

“Angela, this is not a game. This is a life-or-death situation. You saw the screen….” Quinlan lowered her voice, suddenly aware of others in the library.

The audible sigh, this time, came from the earpieces. “Quinlan, listen carefully.” Pause. “You can trust the process or fight it. Your choice.”

Slumping back in the blue chair, Quinlan tucked her chin against her chest and stuck out her lower lip. She didn’t feel like she had a choice.

“Well?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to take in air. “I don’t like it, but I’ll try.”

“Good,” Angela said. “And for the record, I didn’t expect you’d like it.”

Quinlan rubbed her nose and repositioned her arms across her chest. “So. What now?”

“Click on the
safe to remove hardware
icon in the lower right corner.”

When the message appeared, Quinlan yanked the jump drive from the blue box.

“Keep the media device with you. You’ll find it useful. Now return to your living quarters for some RR&P,” Angela said. “You can get a fresh start in the morning.”

“What’s RR&P?” Quinlan hate, hate, hated the onslaught of yet more instructions.

“RR&P was addressed in your FAQ pamphlet,” Angela explained. “You
have
read that, haven’t you?”

Quinlan grimaced and remained silent.

“Review, reflect and plan.” Angela said. “Review your notes from your training. Reflect on the current situation. Then work on your plan of action.”

“Fine.” Quinlan all but stumbled out of the blue chair, feeling like she’d been sent to detention. She trudged to her living quarters, her mind riveted between the disasters she conjured in her mind and how to go about saving Gracie.

~~~

“Unbelievable.” Angela sat at the computer in her office and disengaged her own jump drive. “What a trip.” She removed the blue tooth device from her ear and rubbed her eyes. “I need a vacation.”

CHAPTER 36

GRACE

Adam still worked hideously long hours. Between his work and her studies, Grace felt their life resembled two ships passing in the blackest of nights. And on rare occasions when she found herself alone with him, the distance only seemed to widen. Conversation turned unbearably awkward.

What is it? Why won’t he talk? Grace’s mind raced, erecting all sorts of fearful scenarios. She expected #2 to surface any minute. She wasn’t wrong.

“Talk to him.” #2 seemed to choose her words carefully, maybe taking her supportive promise seriously, for once.

“I’m scared.” Grace’s voice sounded small and far away. She sat on the barstool in the kitchen. The clock over the sink read 1:00…two hours before the kids came home.

“That’s why you need to talk to him,” #2 said.

Before Grace could rationalize another protest, the phone rang. Grace jumped. Glancing at the caller ID, she froze. “It’s him.”

“Answer it,” #2 said, voice firm.

Grace stared at the portable phone.

“Answer the
damn
phone.” #2’s tone grew more insistent.

Raising the device to her ear, she pushed talk.

A long moment passed. She forgot to say hello.

“Grace? Are you there?”

Twisting hair around her finger, she exhaled and breathed a faint, “Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine. How are you?” Lame. Grace’s mind blurred.

“Exhausted.” Adam said then went silent.

She searched for words while blank airtime blared through her head. More moments passed.

Adam broke the silence. “Look, why don’t you and I go to Mario’s tonight?”

She could barely swallow, hating sentences that started with look—always bad news. “Just the two of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” Grace’s hands were damp. Even the soles of her feet felt sweaty. “Any special reason?”

“No. Just thought we could use a night out.”

Her anxiety increased. “Okay.” Her voice sounded like Olive Oyl.

“See you tonight,” Adam said and hung up.

“See ya,” Grace replied to the dial tone. She remained on the barstool, unwilling or unable to move. She lowered her head to the counter, using her folded arms as a pillow.

“Just breathe,” #2 said.

A much-needed reminder Grace wasn’t completely alone.

~~~

She plopped a frozen pizza in the oven for the kid’s dinner as Adam walked through the door. Dropping his briefcase on the counter, he crossed the kitchen to where she stood and pulled her into his arms. Oh please let this last, Grace thought, feeling the familiar warmth of his body.

He kissed her hair and stood back. “I need to change clothes,” he said through a stiff smile.

The color drained from her face as she looked into his conflicted eyes. Regret? Guilt? Grace felt a lump build in her throat. In a minute her eyes would fill. She thought her mother dying was the worst thing that could ever happen.

She was wrong.

What would she do without Adam? It had to be another woman. What else could it be? She choked back the thickness in her throat and set the timer for the pizza.

“Don’t go there.” #2 said, timing perfect. “Just hear him out.”

“Okay,” Grace managed.

~~~

The atmosphere at Mario’s felt much lighter than the heaviness at home, although Grace still found breathing difficult. After being seated Adam ordered a bottle of their favorite cabernet. Tension hung around their table like static cling on polyester. The bread sticks and wine were served. Adam tasted the wine and nodded to the waiter, who filled their glasses. He twirled the stem of the goblet between his fingers, hesitated, and then sat the glass down.

Grace held her breath. She’d become an expert breath-holder.

“I need to tell you something.” Adam shifted in his seat.

“Oh God.” Grace felt tears build again.

“What?” Adam actually looked surprised.

“What do you mean, what?” She felt a knife prick the skin near her heart. Tears were spilling down her cheeks.

“I haven’t said anything yet.”

“You’re leaving us, aren’t you?” The words spat out of her mouth, unable to be contained any longer. Her elbows dug into the table, her balled fists covered her mouth. Her body shook.

Adam took a deep breath. “Yes,” he said quietly.

Grace’s eyes widened. The knife plunged and twisted. She felt faint and almost knocked over the bottle of wine when she grabbed her water, wrapping both hands around the sweaty glass. The cold burned her fingers. Releasing her hold, she patted her face, the coolness welcome on her hot cheeks.

“Who is she?” Grace assumed #2 had taken over. She would
never
have the courage to ask such a bold question.

“Who’s who?” Adam looked frazzled and a bit unnerved.

“Who’s the woman? Damn it!” Grace’s jaws clenched, venom shot from her eyes. “It’s Lindsay, isn’t it?” How could he humiliate her like this? And at Mario’s, no less. She had seriously underestimated his emotional integrity.

“What are you talking about?” Adam looked at her like she’d suddenly morphed into Linda Blair.

“Can we leave?” Why was she asking his damn permission? Grace stood. She had to get out of the restaurant. She needed air.

“We just got here. Settle down. People are staring.”

“You think I give a flyin’ rat’s ass?” Her knees threatened to buckle. For sure #2 had taken charge. She’d never scream flyin’ rat’s ass in a restaurant. Well, good for #2.

Adam rose and gently pushed Grace down toward her chair. “Will you lower your voice?”

If her knees hadn’t been shaking so violently Grace could have resisted Adam’s move. She sat. “Let me get this straight,” she said, her eyes glaring ice daggers at him. She lowered her hand to her lap to steady the knee knocking. “You tell me you’re having an affair and you want
me
to settle down?”

“An affair? Gracie, are you out of your freakin’ mind?” Adam appeared genuinely shocked.

“
Don’t
call me Gracie!” Fresh tears boiled up and over. She vacillated between blind rage (new feeling) and a searing pain in her chest (old feeling). “How could you? And what about the kids?”

“How could I what?” Adam’s eyes flashed almost as hot as Grace’s. He grabbed her hands before she could pull them away. “Listen to me.” He spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice angry. “I’m not having an affair. Do you understand me?”

“You just…
hiccup
…said you were…
hiccup
.” Each spasm felt like an implosion in her lungs. Damn hiccups…so lame at a time like this.

Adam sighed and spoke softly. “No, I didn’t say that.”

Grace’s thoughts pounced around her head like paintballs. She raised her eyes to his.

“You’re not…
hiccup
…having an affair?”

“C’mon, Grace. Really?” Adam tightened his grip.

“You’re not having an affair.” She needed to hear the words another thousand or so times. The hiccup spasm eased. Her “fight or flight” state relaxed somewhat. Then she remembered and pulled her hands free from his grasp. “You said you’re leaving us!”

“I have to go to Beijing.” Adam’s tone was flat.

Grace’s mind drifted through fog. “Beijing?”

“We can make it work.” Adam reached again for her hand.

“Make what work?” She watched him smooth his thumb over her hand.

“I’ve got to set up the office over there. We tried to do it from here, but the ground work needs to be done in person,” Adam said. “Then I’ve got to put together a staff, train them, and supervise the operation for the first six months….” Adam’s voice trailed off.

Her mind pushed away the fog. “Six months?” Grace gasped. “
Six months?
”

Adam cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Grace’s brain pixilated. Minutes before she’d felt she’d been handed a death sentence, had it pardoned, and then slapped back on again. She opened her mouth, but the brain-freeze held. She reached for her wine glass and took several large gulps.

He reached across the table to stop her, but Grace moved quicker and pulled the glass to her chest.

“Don’t do that, Grace. Remember the margaritas?”

“That was on an empty stomach, so shut up.”

Adam leaned back in his chair.

“I mean…back off.” She tried to smooth over #2’s smart-ass harshness.

Adam remained silent.

“How long have you known?” Random puzzle pieces dropped into place like scattered raindrops, splashing the surface of her fuzzy mind. Her heart hurt and her face felt steamy.

“A couple of weeks. Maybe three.” Adam’s gaze was direct for a change.

She narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you’ve been so distant?”

“Distant? I haven’t been….” His words fell off, his expression losing some of its defensiveness. “This has been difficult, you know?”

“Ya think?” She felt some strength return, or maybe she was still riding #2’s sharp-tongued Harley.

“Oh, so you can tease but I can’t?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Grace said. “And how do you think the kids are going to handle this?”

Adam sighed. “I’d say that depends on how we handle it.”

“We? You mean me, don’t you?” Bitterness crept into her voice.

“I mean we, but yeah, you’ll be the one dealing with them.”

Grace considered adding another “ya think” but changed her mind. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” How could she manage without her woobie? For six months?

“Damn it, Grace. It’s business. It’s not directed at you.” Adam obviously had his defense prepared. “The company’s arranged for you and the kids to come over for a visit. That should help break up the time.”

She could see Adam had struggled with the issue, but feeling particularly immature, added on another layer of guilt. “You do know how much you’re going to miss the kids, don’t you? That’s time you can’t get back. E-ver.”

Adam ran both hands through his hair, then shook his head and reached for the wine bottle. “Here, have some more.”

“Think I will.” Her tone sarcastic, she raised her glass for a refill. She stared into the small candle centerpiece and watched the flickers of light dance around the checkered tablecloth. She felt angry and yes, there was fear. But something new cha-chinged her emotional register. Something she couldn’t identify. Something different from the pansy-assed-scared-shitless category she knew all too well.

“What do you say we order?” Adam picked up the menu.

Grace shrugged.

“I think I’ll have the lasagna. What would you like?”

Without so much as a glance at the entrees, she added two words. “The same.”

During the remainder of the evening, she watched him toss conversation lines out about her classes or volunteering. She wasn’t biting, not even a nibble, further reducing her responses to a sulky “fine.”

“Remember earlier when you thought I was having an affair?” Adam asked. “And I’m not. Do you remember that? I’m just going to Beijing.”

Adam’s attempt at civility or bad humor crashed and burned.

“For six months.” She hadn’t pouted for a while. It didn’t necessarily feel good, only familiar.

Once home Grace changed into her pajamas and washed her face. She stared in the mirror and finally spoke. “So, when do you leave?”

Adam finished brushing his teeth and wiped across his mouth with a towel. “The end of the month.”

Grace crawled into bed and purposely positioned her back to Adam’s side, willing herself to the undemanding state of sleep. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the calendar in her mind’s eye. She had a little over three weeks before he left.

She felt him ease over to her side of the bed, but he didn’t touch her. Damn, why couldn’t she go to sleep? Her world was crumbling down around her. Not as much as she thought earlier in the evening, but her “drama queen” mentality still worked overtime. She finally turned over and found Adam facing her.

“I love you, Grace.”

Without hesitation she moved into his arms and snuggled against his warm body. “I love you too.” She added, “I’m just—”

“I know.”

Minutes before Grace dosed off, #2 whispered, “By the way, that was all you tonight. Not me. Thought I’d let you know.”

More emotional information to process, Grace thought. She needed a new mental file cabinet.