A Graceful Mess
Copyright ©2013 Nacole Stayton
All rights reserved.
This work of fiction is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without proper written permission by the author, Nacole Stayton, except where permitted by law.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Photography by Toski Covey Photography:
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Cover Models are Allison Rae and Brett Brock
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Formatting by AngelaMcLaurin at Fictional Formats
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Warning:
This book is intended for readers 18+ due to explicit language and sexual encounters.
To my husband whose unwavering support has kept me afloat on this journey.
You are my anchor.
Ding, ding, ding.
The sound of tiny pellets of hail beat against the glass of my bedroom window. It is all I have heard other than the tornado sirens for the past several hours. I don’t know where Mother Dawn is. No one has come in to check on us, or the boys across the hall, yet. I know this because I haven’t heard my best friend Brody’s loud mouth yell at any of the orphanage’s many nuns. I am almost positive he is sound asleep. The wind hits the massive brick house with such force that my teeth instantly start to chatter. I wish I could run across the hall and climb into bed with Brody. He is nine, which is only three years older than I am, and despite our age difference, he has been my best friend since he came to Saint Vincent de Paul Orphanage for the Innocent. I wish he were my older brother, and I’m sad that tomorrow I will have to say goodbye to him, forever.
The door creaks open, and Helen, one of the only nice nuns here, appears. She peeks in to make sure we are all tucked in bed, just like we’re supposed to be at this hour. I see her eyes travel down to my twin cot, third on the left, and then I watch as she glances around the room, an indication that she noticed my small body missing. She is quiet as she tiptoes through the doorway. I stay bent in the corner close to the big, wooden toy box. I know that if the tornado hits, this toy box won’t save me, but sitting here with Lucky, my stuffed rabbit, tucked away in the corner eases my fears.
“Gracie?” her voice whispers into the darkness before I see two legs covered in a blanket of black material bend down in front of me. “Aw, Gracie, there you are. You had me worried when I didn’t see your pretty face lying in bed. Are you scared, little one?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, short and to the point.
“Well, the storm is just about to pass, little one. Come on and climb back into bed for me, and I’ll sing your favorite lullaby.” She stands up and holds her ivory hand out to me. I take it, and she guides me back to bed and tucks me in before she takes Lucky into her arms and gives him a kiss on his furry cheek. It makes me smile, but I don’t dare make a sound, scared to wake the others in my room. I know there are consequences for bad behavior, and I try to avoid those as much as possible.
Helen climbs into bed with me and lays her body next to mine on top of my comforter. The gesture is innocent, although I am sure it would be frowned upon. The soothing words of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star help calm my fears of the storm that has been brewing outside. As the song ends she extends her hand to brush a piece of hair off of my face. “Now hush, little one. Close those big, blue eyes and picture the stars. Remember what Father Collis taught you?” I nod my head up and down. “When you’re scared what are you supposed to do?”
“When I’m scared I’m supposed to pray.” My voice quivers from nervousness, caused by the thrashing sound of wind only inches away.
“That’s my girl. Are you still scared of the storm?”
“Yes, ma’am. Lucky and I are scared.” I squeeze Lucky’s once-white body that is now a dingy gray.
“Bow your head, little one,” she instructs, and I do as I am told. I close my eyes while lying down with my head on my pillow and begin to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father, I’m scared of the storm. Please keep us safe tonight. Amen.”
Helen stands up, straightens her attire, and then kneels beside me on the floor.
“Now close your eyes and allow God to work.” She smoothes my hair back off of my forehead, stands back up, and heads in the direction of the door. Once I hear the latch shut, I turn on my side facing the window. My eyelids start to get heavy as I stare into the darkness. Sleepiness finally overwhelms me as I drift off to sleep holding the only possession that is truly mine, Lucky.
They say be careful of the quiet ones. A statement I never truly understood, to be honest. What is wrong with being quiet or a little on the shy side? It’s a demeanor I use as a mask to hide myself from a world I don’t feel like I fit into. In one false move, the life I’ve so carefully constructed could crumble, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. Wretched thoughts invade my mind as I sit outside of the campus auditorium fiddling with the frayed ends of my purse, patiently waiting for Maci, my best friend, to change out of her cheerleading uniform and meet me.
The year’s end signifies not only my graduation from college, but also three straight months of not having to come to this God awful place. To say I dislike being on this campus is an understatement. Who enjoys coming to a place every day where you have to walk from point A to point B, even if it’s pouring rain or the sun is smoldering, with a phony smile plastered across your face? I’m not much of a social butterfly or fond of large crowds, and I’m pretty sure those are requirements for attending college nowadays. People care much more about partying and playing matchmaker than their education, which in all honesty is why we’re all here in the first place. But as much as I dread returning after the summer’s end, I’ll be back for another three years of law school. One degree down, one to go. The start of summer break also means I’m only a few weeks away from celebrating my twenty-third birthday. I don’t really get into the hype of spending an entire day celebrating myself, but Maci does, and she takes full advantage of the occasion. Why spend a day with a fake smile pasted on that makes my cheeks feel like they are twitching on the inside? I guess I figure it’s best to play along, at least for her enjoyment.
