Finding Grace: A Novel (48 page)

She knew, or at least she hoped, that Henry
might be looking up at the sky at that same moment, thinking of
her. And she hoped that when he came back to her, he would bring
good fortune with him. Yet as much as she hoped it, she was equally
fearful of it. She thought of her mother and father, whom she
hadn’t seen in nearly six weeks. Just thinking of them - imagining
them walking into her room and looking at her - it made her feel
like a very small child, returning to the house after a temper
tantrum to face punishment. And yet, there was a part of her that
welcomed the chance to stand and face them - to show them that she
was not that scared little girl. But what if nothing changed with
their coming? Or, what if they did not come at all?

She wanted to convince herself that she
didn’t care either way, so she might spare herself further
heartache. Then again, she knew that deep inside, she wanted them
to be there because they loved her, and not just because someone
had made them come to her in her hour of need. Oh, how the two
feelings of fear and hope waged war within her heart! In
desperation, she bowed her head and folded her hands, and uttered a
prayer so familiar to souls in need.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the
things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and
the wisdom to know the difference.

Her strength overtaxed, and weary from her
thoughts, she felt her eyelids growing heavy. Soon she drifted into
a deep sleep, and she never knew it when two of the nursing staff
came in during the night and found her there. She never felt it
when they picked her up and put her back in bed. All she felt was
the cool of the pillow against her cheek, and the softness of the
blanket as they pulled it up over her.

Early the next morning, she woke to find
herself back in the bed, and for a moment, she could not understand
how she had gotten there. Then the nurse came in with her breakfast
- which it could hardly be called, since it was only a small piece
of bread, a cup of apple juice, and a cup of chicken broth. Almost
looking like she was enjoying telling the tale, the woman explained
how they had found her in the chair the night before, and how they
had placed her back where she was suppose to be. She was starting
to detest the nurses, and the doctor, for that matter. They talked
to her like she was an idiot - but she sensed that they probably
talked to all of their patients that way. It was just how health
care was given. It was a routine for them. No personal attention
was thought to be of use, or so it seemed to her. Still, as much as
she disliked them, she did her best to be polite. And she was
surprised but happy to hear that message had come from Henry, via a
phone call.

“
You were asleep, so we
took the message down for you. The doctor thought it would be best
if you weren’t disturbed. Here it is.”

Grace took the note from her hand, and she
read…

Grace,

We will be on the noon train today. We will
be in Chicago by Thursday afternoon. I Hope all is well.
Henry

Simple and to the point. What else could it
be, sent by phone to a stranger?

She wished they had let her
talk to him herself, but the fools had let her sleep through it
instead. There were so many things she wanted to ask, and most of
all, she longed for the sound of his voice. Now, she would have to
wait another few days, and the idea did not sit well with her. But
what could she do, except sit and wait for either the doctor on his
daily check, or wait for a visit from Jack and Alice, who had been
there each and every day? Rather than lying there and thinking of
it, she finished her bland meal, and lying back she closed her
eyes, trying to lose herself again in sleep. She did not have much
trouble, and as her eyes weighed heavy, she had a thought that the
nurse had likely put some medicine in her drink. She had been
refusing the stuff, and stubbornly, even though they insisted she
needed it. So they had done what a parent would do to a naughty
child, and slipped it in without her knowing it.
Evil woman
, she said to
herself. She hated this place...couldn’t stand the people in it,
and her last thought before she fell into oblivion was that as long
as she lived, she vowed she would never let herself be put in a
hospital ever again.

* * * * *

She felt a hand shaking her shoulder, and
for several moments she protested the disturbance. But the shaking
kept on, gently but insistently, and she opened her eyes to see
Jack and Alice standing beside her.

"Good afternoon, sleepyhead," Alice said
with a little smile. "Your doctor has some good news for you."

Grace moved to sit up. Jack came to her side
to help her, though she insisted she would do it on her own. He
insisted that she would not, and helped her anyway. The doctor came
forward, a little smile on his face.

"I think it's safe to send you home today,
young lady. But you have to promise not to pull until funny
business, like you did last night."

"What?" Jack and Alice said together.

"Very early this morning, we found her
asleep in the chair by the window," the doctor said. "She's a
rascal, this one. I suggest you keep an eye on her, to keep her
from injuring herself before she's completely healed."

Just like a danged old
doctor to run his mouth off,
Grace thought
with more than a little malice. She looked up at her brother, who
narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. As for Alice, she just
smiled in her usual way and shook her head.

"Well, they say the strong and stubborn heal
faster than the weak and timid.”

Jack folded his arms. "That may be true. But
if she tears her stitches, she won't be so sassy when they have to
sew her up again."

"Speaking of stitches," said the doctor,
"I'll be by the house at the end of the week to check them. Just
try to limit your activity as much as possible. Now if you'll
excuse me, I'll sign the discharge papers and you can be on your
way."

"Thank you doctor," said Alice. She turned
to Grace, who sighed. "So, young lady, are you going to
behave?"

"Yes, yes," Grace muttered. "Please, just
get me out of this place, will you?" She started to turn her legs
and put her feet on the floor, but Jack stopped her with a firm
hand.

"Oh, no you don't. You may have a fit about
it, but you're going out of here in a wheelchair." He wheeled the
thing up to the bedside, but stubbornly she pushed it away.

"I don't care what the doctor says. I still
have use of my legs. I'm not a child. Why do you always have to
treat me like one?"

"I'm treating you the way you're acting!" he
shouted back. "Now get in this chair or I swear I'll hog tie you to
it." He reached for her arm but she flung it away. She would rather
have crawled out of the place on her hands and knees instead of
wheeling out like an invalid. But she wanted to get out of that
cell they called a room, so she complied. But she did not go
quietly. Even as she was being taken to the car, she protested
against her brother and the nurse, who both lifted her from the
chair.

"I'm not helpless. If you'd leave me alone,
I could take care of myself."

"The doctor says you can’t overexert
yourself," the nurse replied as she helped her into the car.

Grace spat, "The doctor can kiss my foot.”
And she slammed the door closed. Sitting in the back seat, she
grumbled to herself as she watched Alice get in the front, and Jack
come around to his side and get in.

"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed
this morning," he said, starting the car.

She dropped her head into her hands. "Oh
hush up and leave me alone.”

The rest of the way home, nothing more was
said. They all spoke little as they helped her out of the car. She
had the feeling that Jack fully intended to carry her in if she
showed the slightest weakness. She was determined not to be so
fussed over. So she took the arm of Alice and no one else, even
though Jack tried to take her other arm as they went up the walk.
She pushed him away, and when she reached the stairs, she pushed
Alice's hand away as well, although more gracefully than she had
her brother's. Leaning heavily on the banister railing, she took
the stairs slowly but surely, and when she reached the top step,
Alice came quickly and took her arm again, helping her into her
room.

Jack followed, ready to assist if need be,
but Grace waved him away as she collapsed in exhaustion on the bed.
With gritted teeth she pulled herself up a little to a more
comfortable position against the pillows. She let out a deep
breath. She looked at Jack, and realized that the time had come for
him to hear what she'd been dreading to tell him. He had to know,
and so she would tell him now. She looked at Alice, and tried to
smile kindly.

"Alice, can you leave us alone for a few
minutes? Please?"

Alice nodded, and quietly left the room. As
she went, Jack watched her go, and then he turned and looked at
Grace.

"Why so nice to her, and not to me?"

"She's an expecting mother, so I have to be
nice to her. You're my brother. I can be mean to you if I want to
be."

"What did I do to you?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why are you yelling at me?"

"Because it makes me feel better!"

She crossed her arms, locking her eyes on
anything but him, and she heard him sigh in frustration.

"Look," he said. "I know you've been through
hell lately, so I'm not going to get too mean with you. But I've
only been trying to take care of you, so don't treat me like a worn
out shoe you're done with."

She felt a stab of guilt at his statement.
She hadn't meant to be so mean to him, but she was frustrated and
impatient with her slow recovery, tired of her nagging pain, and
nearly mad with worry over what would happen with her parents. She
had become so tense and frustrated that she could no longer contain
it, and he had seemed the easiest person to target. But he didn't
deserve to be so persecuted, after all he had done for her, and she
was shamefully aware of it. She also knew what she had to do, and
the moment was upon her now.

"It's not you," she said to him. “And it's
not everything that's happened to me. I can take that, believe it
or not."

"Then what is it?" he asked. "And why do we
have to be alone to talk about it?"

She avoided his eyes, knowing that he would
not be happy with what she was about to tell him. But she spoke all
the same. She took a little breath, and said, "Mama and Daddy are
coming."

"What?!" he cried instantly, a look of both
shock and fury crossed his features.

She had known he would probably act as such,
but still she went on. "Henry went to get them, and he'll be here
with them on Thursday."

"No they won't," Jack said firmly, shaking
his head. "I don't want them in this house."

"But Jack…"

"I said no!" he shouted. "I don't want to
see them, I don't want to look at them. Either of them."

"It’s too late," she said with a sigh. “They
left this morning.”

His face dark, he paced back and forth for a
few moments, before he went to stand by the window. He leaned an
arm on the sill, and wordlessly he stared out, saying nothing.

"Believe me, I know how you feel," she said.
"But think about your son or daughter that's on the way. Mama and
Daddy are the only grandparents that child will ever know. Do you
think it's right for a child not to know their family? It's best to
set things right, right now. If you can't do it for yourself, do it
for your child."

He was silent, and remained so for several
long moments. She wondered if he was considering what she had said.
It was impossible to tell from his expression, which was blank and
stony. Then at long last, he spoke in a chilled, deep voice.

"Do you remember when you were a kid, and
you broke the kitchen window playing ball?”

She nodded as the memory came back to her,
and as it came back, she felt a cold shudder pass through her. She
knew then just what he was thinking of. It was a fearful memory for
her, but for him, she could not imagine what he was feeling as he
relived it. She was shocked at the weakness of her own voice.
“Daddy came out there. And then he tried to take me out for -"

"A beating," Jack finished for her. "You
were hardly seven years old, and he was ready to switch the blood
out of your legs over a damned window. Devilish old bastard." He
swallowed, and after a pause, he went on. "But he didn't get to
beat on you that time, did he?" She shook her head, unable to speak
as he went on talking in a cold, almost mechanical way. "I told him
to leave you alone. That he should fight someone his own size. He
just turned and walked away. He never said a word. And like a
dummy, I thought he'd forgotten the whole thing. Then later that
night, he caught me coming around the side of the house, and the
last thing I remember was seeing him swing at me with something
heavy in his hand. I didn’t know at the time that it was a brick
coming at me."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and her heart
broke as she felt the pain of a memory she had not had in almost
ten years. Clearly, time had not healed his wounds. It was evident
in his every word.

"I remember telling Mama that if he ever
came after me again, either I was gonna kill him or he was gonna
kill me. And she cried and told me not to hurt him. She said to run
away from him. Just run, as fast as you can. I remember the last
day I was at home. Me, Raymond, and James were cutting tobacco all
day. Thomas was working in the barn. It was so hot that day, so I
went in the house to get a drink of water, and he started fussing
at me for being in the house and not out working. I was in such a
rotten mood that day, slaving out in that danged old tobacco patch
and sweating like a hog. I started to go back, and I saw Matthew
there by the porch, playing in the dirt. I stopped to say something
to him and here comes the old man, hollering and cussing. He said
to me, 'Get on out there like I told you and don't you tear a
single leaf in that patch or I'll knock the fire out of you.' And
then I spit water right in his face.”