Finding Grace: A Novel (26 page)

“
Go ahead and sit. I won’t
bite…unless you want me to.”

Immediately there was a disgusted curl of
her lip. She started to turn away, but he reached out and stayed
her arm.

“
Oh for Pete’s sake, I was
only teasing.”

As she cautiously sat down again, he rolled
his eyes, letting out a breath. “Touchy, touchy. You good girls are
all the same.”

“
So are all you flea-bitten
hounds.”

His little smile broke into a full grin…one
he couldn’t hide. And he wondered...

If I push her buttons just a tiny bit more,
what will she do or say?

With amusement he asked, “How so?”

Her eyes flashed boldly. “If no one puts a
good strong chain on you, you’ll run around and chase every cat in
the neighborhood.”

And to that, he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Touché,” he replied.

From the look on her expression, he could
see she was very satisfied with herself, and he let her have her
little victory. If it meant she would stay there beside him, it was
worth the little jab at his pride.

As she sat down, her dessert arrived. But
before she could reach into her purse for a coin, he took one from
his own pocket and put it down. He felt a sudden need to be
generous, hoping it might soften any further resentment she felt.
He was rewarded when she smiled slightly and nodded in thanks.

"So,” he asked, wondering if they could
manage a conversation without something going wrong. “What are you
doing in here by yourself?"

"Running away from home," she replied

He smiled slightly. "I take it your brother
wasn't too happy with the little show that Victoria put on."

"That's putting it mildly. I just wanted
some time to myself, you know what I mean?"

He nodded. "That's why I'm here. Victoria is
moving out of the house, even as we speak. So I'd rather be here
than there. I think she'd like it that way too."

He watched as she slowly took little bites
of her ice cream. She seemed like such a nervous creature at times,
even in the way she ate. It was almost like she was afraid to
relax, afraid to take a few moments and enjoy herself. Even with
their topic of conversation, she seemed wary and self-conscience,
as if the blame of the whole situation was supposed to fall on her
shoulder.

"I'm sorry to hear that she left. I feel
like it's all my fault."

Instantly he found himself trying to shield
her, although he wasn’t quite sure why he felt the need.

"Don't be ridiculous. It's her petty
jealousy that brought it all about, but maybe it's for the best. I
think we were doomed from the start. That's what happens when you
get together with someone for all the wrong reasons."

She looked at him, concerned. "But what
about your show? Will you be able to find someone to take her
place?"

He waved a hand at her question. "I'll find
someone sooner or later. It won’t be easy, that's for sure.
Victoria could sing and dance and look like a million bucks doing
it. But she's gone now, so I'll just move on and find someone else.
What else can I do about it?" He lifted the bottle to his lips and
took a long drink.

"So what made you come here?" she asked.

He shrugged, letting out a breath. "A man
can’t drown his sorrows the way he used to. Not with the damned
laws the way they are. Oh, I could go out and find a drink if I
really wanted to. There are plenty of hooch mills in this town. But
sometimes it’s nice to pull back a little and enjoy the simpler
things. Like a nice bottle of root beer.”

She smiled a little, much to his surprise
and delight. And he raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“
What’s that smirk
for?”

“
I was just thinking about
home,” she replied. “If you gave a man anything but a jar of
moonshine, you’d be laughed right out of town.”

He smirked. “Moonshine? What would an
innocent little thing like you know about that?”

Now she sat up slightly, looking at him,
adjusting herself as though she were about to teach him a school
lesson. She leaned an elbow on the bar, resting her head in her
hand…and he found himself admiring how lovely she looked when she
relaxed. It was hard to concentrate on what she was saying, but he
did his best to listen.

“
Well, down in the mines
it’s kind of like hell. And when a man gets out alive at the end of
the day, I suppose the whiskey is a way to relax. But it’s good for
other things too. Like when I was a kid, Mama used to mix a little
bit of shine with water and honey when we were sick. It don’t
really cure anything, but it’s good to make you sleep.”

She paused a moment, her smile fading away.
She sat up straight, shifting her eyes away from him.

“
Of course, there are folks
who drink too much. Mama always said that drinking whiskey was like
putting a thief in your mouth to steal your brain. And when Daddy
used to go out and drink, she used to pray and pray because she
thought for sure he wouldn’t make it home.”

What had started as a light conversation
suddenly became covered in shadow. His own light manner became a
bit less as he listened and remarked. “I take it it’s not all
sunshine and roses at home?”

She shook her head, and he felt the need to
pose a question he’d long wanted to ask.

“
You know, I’ve been
wondering something about you.”

She looked at him, her blue eyes full of
curiosity.

“
Why didn’t you run away
like your brother did? Surely the thought crossed your mind a time
or two.”

“
I did run once,” she
replied. “When I was twelve I tried to, but it didn’t
work.”

His eyebrow raised in curiosity. “What
happened?”

She shrugged. “Jack sent me a ticket so I
could come and stay with him. But I only got to the depot before I
got caught, and Daddy came and got me. I remember it clear as day
that on the way home, we came across this bridge that I was always
scared to death of. It has big gaps in it and you can see clear
down to the bottom of the river. And I remember that Daddy made me
get out of the wagon and walk all the way across the bridge.”

He didn’t know what to say, except to think
to himself...

What an evil old
bastard
.

He was suddenly angry on her behalf,
thinking of how scared she must have been. But he’d admired her
spirit before, and now he thought her to be one of the bravest
young women he’d ever met, and he wanted to tell her so.

“
You managed it, didn’t
you?” he said. “You walked right across, and I bet you didn’t blink
once.”

He hoped to see her smile, wanted to remind
her of how proud she should have been of herself. But there was no
smile, and he felt a chill as he watched her expression grow darker
than he’d ever seen it. Somehow he knew that in this story, there
had not been the happy ending that he’s hoped for.

“
When I got home he
blistered my legs with a switch off a birch tree. Then he locked me
in the closet and I stayed there all night.”

He had to swallow a sudden
lump that rose in his throat.
Good
God
. Looking at her, she seemed to change
before his very eyes. She wasn’t so childish to him now. She looked
more like a woman, and he found that in her, he could now see
something of himself. She had deep wounds that were bound only by
the barest of threads. Those wounds were fragile...so easily
capable of being torn open. The realization struck him deeply, and
suddenly he wasn’t just angry. He was livid.

How could anyone raise a cruel hand to her?
Of course, he knew that she had sharp claws, which he found
wickedly delightful. But she only brought out those claws in
self-defense. She meant no real harm to anyone. And her defenses
were no match for anyone who really wanted to hurt her. He had a
sudden impulse to put his arms around her, to comfort her. He had a
sad feeling that she’d never been held and soothed. She needed
someone to care for her, to defend her from the cruel world. And he
realized how much he wanted to be that person.

He was suddenly struggling with his own
conscience.

How long has it been since I cared about
anyone but myself? Am I just going soft? Or am I too stupid to
remember how a woman can manipulate a man?

He didn’t know what to be sure of. He only
knew that when he looked at her, his heart swelled with something
tender and profound. For a moment he met her steel-blue eyes and
saw a look of pure vulnerability. But in a flash it was gone,
replaced by that stubborn and willful look he was coming to know so
well.

“
I think I know what you’re
thinking,” she said. “But I don’t need your pity.” She turned her
eyes from him, taking a last little bite of her ice cream. When
she’d swallowed it, she cleared her throat, and a thoughtful look
came across her face. “You know, there’s a passage from my favorite
book. I’m pretty sure I’m not saying it right but...”

She sat up a little straighter, her eyes
slightly pinched in concentration, which he thought was quite
amusing and lovely. But he didn’t interrupt her as she recited the
passage as best she could.

"Pity is a noxious and insulting sort of
tribute, which one is justified in hurling back in the teeth of
those who offer it. It is the sort of pity native to callous,
selfish hearts. It is a hybrid, egotistical pain at hearing of
woes, crossed with ignorant contempt for those who have endured
them.”

An impressed smile came to his face at her
words. “Very well said,” he declared. “And it’s pretty impressive
that you can remember all of that.”

She only shrugged, saying nothing. He could
have sworn she was blushing, but he kept the thought to himself,
not wanting to embarrass her. And as he thought of her speech, he
realized how well that passage reflected some of his own
thoughts.

“
I wish I’d had that written
down when I came home from Europe.”

He took a sip of his drink, sighing as he
remembered the strange homecoming from the war. In all these years
he’d hardly spoken of it at all. But in Grace, he sensed an
understanding of pain and isolation, and he found himself speaking
of things he’d long had buried inside.

“
When I came back from
France, it was like landing on another planet. I had all these
people shaking my hand, patting me on the back, telling me what a
great big hero I was and all that. But then, there were times when
people said some of the stupidest things to me.”

Hesitant, she asked. “Like what?”

He shook his head. “I
actually had people say, ‘
It must have been
tough.’
Christ sakes, what an ignorant ass
thing to say. And then they would come back with something
like,
‘Good to have you home. Now you can
get back to your life.’
He pursed his lips
in disgust. “As if they had the foggiest notion of anything. They
had no idea what kind of hell was in my head.”

He knew she was watching him. He could feel
her eyes. But the floodgate of memories had been opened, and he
couldn’t close it, even under a pair of watchful and innocent
eyes.

“
The military was so
engrained in my brain. I just couldn't adjust. I had this kind of
numbness inside that just wouldn't go away. It took years for it to
wear off. But by then, Mary was long gone." He sighed, putting his
drink down on the bar. "Casualties of war, I suppose.” As he spoke,
a sudden fog came over him. He didn’t feel the world around him, or
see the woman sitting next to him. He could hear distant voices,
ones that cried out in terror and pain. The noise of battle echoed
in his ears. And the smell of blood and waste filled his nostrils.
And yet while his mind wandered on the bloody fields of France, his
body remained in the present and his voice continued to
speak.

"Some people know nothing of hell. They’ve
never seen the blood and gore of other men mixed with the mud on
your boots. They’ve never seen a land that’s hacked to pieces by
artillery and cannon fire. You sit in that trench, with your
fingers and toes bitten to death by the freezing rain, and the
stench of rot and death all around you, wondering if every moment
will be your last. You live every day in the bowels of hell. Then,
they suddenly snatch you up and away, and throw you in with 'civil
society', and they expect you to go back to a happy life with a
happy little job and a happy little home. And that’s nothing but
complete and total horse shit."

Something snatched him from his memory, and
suddenly he blinked as if realizing where he was again. He glanced
at her, seeing the way her eyes were wide with amazement and
something close to fear. He wanted to apologize for his sudden loss
of control, but at the moment he was still gathering himself
together. He took a deep breath as he muttered a few more bitter
words. "War does not determine who is right. Only who is left."

He took another deep, cleansing breath and
felt his self-control being reigned in, enough so that he could
relax and look at her without knowing how harsh his expression
could be. When he glanced at her, those eyes were searching his
face. He’d never seen such a tender and concerned expression on her
face before, and it made his heart swell a little. But he didn’t
speak of it. He simply smiled, and was happy when she returned the
gesture. There was something so warm and lovely when she let that
pretty little mouth turn up, even in the smallest way. He turned
and retrieved his hat from the stool beside him, putting it on his
head as he stood.

“
Let me give you a ride
home.”