A Graceful Mess (29 page)

“So elections are right around the corner. How is everything going?” Small talk isn’t my forte, but he is my client so I give it a solid effort.

“Parker, how about we skip the chit chat and get right to business? I have a full schedule today, and I am sure you have somewhere to be. Maybe following Grace?”

The change of demeanor in the air almost sucks the life right out of me. Who knows why he seems so pissed and eager to get this meeting underway? I’m the one that has a reason to be pissed. Instead of being with my girlfriend, even if it’s just for support as she confronts her parents, I’m here, sitting with the man who caused the mess, the man who’s about to inflict a hell of a lot worse pain on her than Brody could even think of. Once again, the strong urge to strangle the prick sitting in front of me is overwhelming.

“Sure, how about we get right to it then, Mr. Jacobs? So, let me…oh wait, here’s her file. Okay, so, to follow up where we were last time, she is about to start school again. Maci and she are still living together.”

“What happened with Mr. Hendricks?”

Could this day get any fucking worse?

Staring into the man’s eyes who gave life to the woman I love, I am at a loss for words. How do I answer that? Does he want the full story? Oh, the childhood best friend grew up to be a stalker, then a boyfriend and baby daddy, and then a murderer. Hell no, I can’t fucking tell him that, as bad as I want to, I know this isn’t the place to be airing out Grace’s dirty laundry, even though he does technically pay me to do just that.

“I saw the article in the paper. I’m not blind. Who is he and why did he try and attack her? And why on God’s green earth did you not prevent it? Isn’t that what I pay your company for, Parker?”

“Mr. Jacobs, honestly, and only because you are my client, I’ll fill you in. And only on the parts of her life that may eventually affect you.” Shaking his head, I take a few brief minutes to fill him in on both shootings, careful to spare any important details that have to do with mine and Grace’s relationship. Knowing once I open that gate, the consequences I dread will be sure to follow.

“So why was Grace at your house in the first place? I mean, was it all part of the trap to get Brody?”

I swallow, hard.

“And why was this hand-delivered to my office?” He pulls a folded picture out of a pocket in his jacket.

It’s a picture of me carrying a very messed up Grace.
The
picture. The one Brody snapped with his cell phone before taking off, leaving me with a heap of questions in his wake.

There comes a point in your life where you can either lie and take the coward’s way out, or stand up and tell the truth, no matter what consequences you might face. Knowing I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, I decide to tell the truth. “If we are being one hundred percent honest here, Grace was at my house because I care about her. I have, we have, grown to care about one another. The Brody stuff just got all messed up, but all in all it brought us closer and thankfully landed him behind bars again.”

“Dammit! I told you to stay away from her!” he shouts as he stands up and paces the room. I should have known that was coming, but nonetheless I don’t take a liking to people yelling at me. Clutching my fist in a ball, I bite the inside of my cheek and pray to God that I don’t let him have it. He fucking gave her up. Because of him, she was in that home. She never would have met Brody if it wasn’t for the choices he made. I’m not saying what he did was wrong. Hell, I have no clue what I would do if I got some girl knocked up in high school and then she died leaving me with a newborn. He made the best decision he knew how at the time, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like he is threatening me.

“Listen, Mr. Jacobs, I do appreciate your business, and I hope I don’t sound too out of line here, but Grace Clearwater is an amazing young woman. Now I understand that you want to continue to keep her hidden. I may not fully understand why, but I won’t hide her and how I feel about her. I just can’t, not to you or anyone.” Speaking those words out loud feels so freeing. Taking a breath I continue, “I tried to deny my feelings at first, but there is just something about her. I wish you could see it. Maybe one day, after the election and the buzz dies down, you might want to meet her. I don’t know, but I do know I really care about your daughter and I will not stay away from her. So either you allow me to continue to do my job, and watch over her, keeping her at a safe distance from you and your family, or you walk out of this office right now. Our contract will protect you and our original agreement. She won’t even know I know about you. I can’t promise she won’t figure it out and hate me for it one day, but the hate she will have for you will be a hundred times worse. So what’s it going to be? Are you going to allow Porter & Sons to continue to track her, or are you going to terminate our deal and go on your merry way?” A rush of energy surges through me after I finish my minute-long spiel. He doesn’t move, or worse, say anything.

“Do you love her?” he asks through gritted teeth after a few minutes of deafening silence.

What kind of question is that? Didn’t I just declare my fucking love for her?

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“I think we are all good here then, Parker. Please make sure you remember the election is next week. Hopefully I will win and have a seat. After the media dies down and there is no chance of
her
being brought up, we can end our contract. Until then…until then please take care of her. You don’t know how much it is killing me knowing I wasn’t man enough to.”

“So that’s it? You’re okay with me being with her, just like that? No more idle threats about it?”

Our meeting is no longer just about work, or just about keeping his secret. It’s about much more – my love for Grace. I feel like I just provoked a beast. Mr. Jacobs takes a deep breath and steps towards me. I’m a big dude, and hell, I’m not scared of many, but if it comes down to it I won’t hesitate to put him in his place.

“Idle threats? You think I threatened you before, Parker? You think just because you are probably fucking my daughter, I might care? Have you not heard me, have you not listened to me at all? Do you know I saw her yesterday on campus? She was there. We talked. We shook hands. It was like she didn’t even know me, and the best part is, she doesn’t. She doesn’t know me from Joe Schmoe and that’s how I like it. I don’t ever want to see the pity in her eyes when she learns what I’ve done. That I gave away my own fucking daughter without a second glance back. So, yes, Parker, that’s it. You said you loved her. That’s more than I’ll ever do for her. So please, once again, take care of her. And keep her out of the God damn newspaper!”

Without another word he gets up and leaves my office. The creaky wood floors silence once he makes his way out of the building. My job sucks ass. Reaching into my bottom drawer, I pull out a bottle of whiskey. It was a gift from a client back home in Alabama. I just need something to take the edge off things.

The tears streaming down my face make it hard for me to see the road. The realization that I have been living a lie my entire life makes me grip the steering wheel in a desperate attempt to keep some composure. I’ve been debating on what to do all morning. My need for answers gets the best of me, so I decided to drive to the only place I know will have them – home.

Who am I? Where was I born? Why did my parents hide this from me?

Question after question fills my mind as cars continue to pass me. Pulling into my parents’ subdivision, I turn onto their street. Slamming my gearstick into park, I get out of the car without even turning around to shut the door. I march to the front door. Opening it, I am startled to see both of them standing in the living room. My mother looks like she has been crying. Her tears infuriate me. Who does she think she is? I am the one whose world was just crushed. She isn’t adopted; I am. She didn’t live a lie; I did!

“Grace.” My father’s stern voice says as I drop my purse to the floor.

Holding both hands out in front of me, I march by him and my mother and head into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, I walk back through the living room and into my father’s study. I know where he keeps the hard liquor, and I need something to blur the edges right now. Bending, I open the bottom drawer of his desk and pour myself a glass of vodka. The liquid burns as it slides down my throat. Filling up another glass, I gulp down the contents and leave my glass sitting on his desk. I really don’t care what my parents think of me right now.

What a shame, they have to see their sweet, little Gracie gulping down alcohol.

Making my way back to the living room, my mother is sitting on the couch. Her hands cover her face, as sounds of her crying fill the air. Trying to bite my tongue, I fail miserably.

“So it’s true, isn’t it?” No one says anything, but my mother’s continued despondency confirms what I already know.

“Say it! Both of you. I want to hear you tell me.” Tears continue to fall from my eyes as I stare at two people I thought I knew. How could they hide this from me? I had friends growing up that were adopted, and all along here I was sitting nestled in my perfect world, when it was all a lie.

“Gracie, I’m so sorry. I am. Please believe me. I love you more than anything in this entire world.” When my mother finally speaks her words do nothing but make things worse. She’s sorry? She’s sorry about not telling me, or sorry I found out?

“Sorry for what, Mom, and how do you know I know?”

“Parker called us. He said you were really upset.”

“Please give your mother a minute and come with me.” Following my father, he guides me up the stairs and into my childhood bedroom. We both sit on my small twin bed. The seconds that pass seem like minutes, before the door opens and my mother walks in carrying another box yet again. She kneels down to set it on the floor and then sits Indian-style on the carpet. Without hesitation the box’s contents grab my attention. I move from the edge of the mattress and sit across from her. A small, soiled, stuffed rabbit catches my eye. I can only see half of its body sticking out from under a pile of stuff. I reach out and grab it. Touching the rabbit, my dream flashes through my mind.

Oh. My. God. I can’t believe this is happening. How were they able to keep this from me for so long? How did I not remember?

“This is mine?”

“Yes, baby,” my mother whispers.

“Where did you get this?” I ask as I vaguely remember the stuffed animal. My thoughts race as I try and piece together my childhood, but I draw a giant blank. How does a person honestly not remember being adopted? All I ever knew were my parents. To think of any other life, other than the one I lived, doesn’t even make sense to me, but why does this animal ring a bell?

“At… the orphanage.” My chest feels heavy. Like someone is sitting on top of it, suffocating me.

“When?” We both know I am not asking when they got my stuffed rabbit, but more inquiring when I was adopted.

“You were six. Your father and I tried for years to conceive, but we couldn’t. We saw doctor after doctor, but no one could give us a straight answer. So we decided to stop trying and adopt. The moment we laid eyes on you, we knew you belonged with our family. It wasn’t until years later we actually ended up getting pregnant with the twins. We were complete then. We had our little family, and loved you and the boys so much, Gracie. I never wanted to hurt you. We decided it was best not to tell you until you were older, much older. You didn’t seem to remember or ever talk about the orphanage, so we took you to a counselor. We thought maybe you were scared to talk to us about it, so we thought you might benefit from seeing someone. After a few visits, she said that you had suppressed the memories. That eventually something might trigger them and you would slowly regain them, but she wasn’t sure. Only time would tell. That’s why we had to take that silly, stuffed rabbit from you. Dad had to basically pry it from your fingers, and then all of that stuff happened with Brody and we learned…”

“Mom, what did you learn?”

“When he was sentenced to jail, his foster family talked to us and told us how sorry they were. They didn’t know they were helping to raise a monster. A few weeks after that, they invited us to their house. We spent hours talking about the situation, and then it somehow came out that you both lived in the same orphanage at one point. You two were the best of friends. The thought makes me sick. It did then too. They had accepted Brody as a foster child during his freshman year of high school. Your paths didn’t cross until his senior year, your freshman year. He was bounced around from foster home to foster home. Needless to say, they were his last chance. He was going to be eighteen and graduating from school, but they were an older couple and had a soft spot for damaged kids, so they’d agreed to foster him. How could we have been so blind? I swear to you, if I would have known about his troubled past and the connection, I would have never let him step a foot inside our house. I am so sorry, Grace, but you have to believe us. We would never willingly do anything to hurt you, and seeing you so upset is killing me. You were our first child, our everything.”