Finding Grace: A Novel (7 page)

"I don't care about how much land he has,"
she said, her voice low but strong. "I won't marry him."

Her father snorted in disgust. "You're about
as stubborn as an old mule. And dumber than a box of rocks." He
knocked over a chair as he stormed off, disappearing around the
corner. A moment later there came a loud clap like thunder, as the
door to the back bedroom slammed shut.

She jumped at the sound…and turned to the
only person left in the room. Looking in her mother's eyes, she
pleaded silently for some understanding. How could they do this to
her? She was their daughter. They were her parents. How could they
be so cruel and hardly blink an eye in the process? But there was
no sympathy in her mother's eyes. Only a kind of weariness, as if
she was tired of the whole matter, and had washed her hands of it.
It hurt so deeply, like a knife plunging in her heart, that Grace
rose up from her seat and ran from the room, out the front door.
Her mother followed a few steps behind. She knew it from hearing
her call.

"Gracie Ellen, where do you think you're
going?"

She kept running, weeping wildly as she
went. It would serve them right if she never came home again. They
were human, after all, and still her parents, and they would wonder
before long where she was. She wished they would get worried. She
wanted them out of their minds with worry, after all the heartbreak
she had just endured. But deep down she knew it wouldn’t be
heartfelt concern. It would only be another bother and a reason to
be angry, as if she were their employee and not their blood kin.
Their betrayals made Charlie’s seem kind, and she wondered how she
would get through another day without feeling the poison of her
father's words.

Nearing the river, she began to slow down,
and soon found herself walking slowly along the bank. That was when
she heard a movement behind her in the brush, and a moment later,
Pilot emerged and came to her side. She knelt down beside him and
buried her nose in his warm fur, comforted by his friendly
presence. How sad it was that, once again, her only loyal companion
was her dog. She held his great head in her hands, looking into his
loving eyes. He wagged his tail and gave her face a lick, and for
the first time in a long time, she smiled. She wiped away her tears
and sighed, and she and her dog walked together along the
water.

The moonlight bounced beams off the water,
so beautiful and peaceful...so different from the turmoil in her
heart.

What was she to do now?

If she went home, they would have the
satisfaction of thinking she was bound to them in some way...that
because she was their daughter, she was their property, and they
could do with her as they wished. If they wanted to give her away
to Charlie, what was to stop them? They could pack her up and toss
her out. Some senseless, stupid part of her soul still wondered if
they were capable of such treachery. But suddenly she thought of
Jack…and it became clear that, yes, they were quite capable of such
vengeance against one of their own.

It was growing cool, and her light summer
dress made things colder. She rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm
them, but it wasn’t any use. With great distress, she realized that
she would have to go back home, for shelter if for nothing else.
What other choice did she have? She couldn't stay out all night…at
least, not in this way. She'd slept out on the ground at night, on
coon hunts and all. But in this thin dress she wore, and without
supplies or weapons, who knew what might happen?

And as much as she hated to admit it, there
was a tiny part of her that wanted to go home.

In spite of all that had happened, there was
no real hatred in her heart. There was great bitterness and spite,
and yet she couldn’t help but wish that when morning came,
everything would be forgiven. But then, what if they didn't care?
What if they really did do the unthinkable, and tried to force her
into a marriage with Charlie? Maybe it was not so unthinkable,
after all. She thought again of Jack, and how their father still
hadn't forgiven him for the way he’d left home in a fit of rage. He
had been their son, and their firstborn, and yet he was an outcast
in his father’s eyes. She was just their lowly daughter. So what
hope did she have now?

That was when the idea came to her. It was
something she’d tried once before…although, at that time, it had
ended with disastrous results. But maybe the time had come to try
again.

She could go to Jack, her beloved brother.
She hadn't seen in all these years, and all because of her parents’
thick-headedness. How she would get there, she wasn't quite sure
yet. But oh, how she adored the idea of seeing him again.

Still, the idea of leaving home was
frightening. She’d hardly been beyond the borders of the county in
her life. How would she even know where to start? For several long
moments she debated with herself about what to do. And then she
decided,

I will go home. I’ll give them a chance to
make it all right.

She felt weak and broken for thinking such a
thing, but God help her, she wasn’t capable of hating anyone…not
even them.

When at last, she returned home, she didn't
bother coming in through the front door. She didn't want them to
see her, just in case they happened to be waiting up. Childish as
it was, a part of her took some vengeful delight in the idea that
they might be worrying about her, though she knew it wasn’t likely.
So, she quietly slipped in through her open bedroom window, and a
weariness fell upon her as soon as she was in bed. Her last thought
before she fell asleep was the hope that in the morning, all of
this had been only a very bad dream.

* * * * *

The morning broke, and her routine came to
her without fail. She deliberately avoided seeing her folks, hoping
that they might seek her out instead, and offer something of an
apology. Or at least, they would offer some understanding, and
accept the fact that she would not be marrying Charlie. She could
only hope, as she filled her egg basket and made her way into the
house.

In the kitchen, her mother was emptying a
pan of biscuits onto a plate. She glanced over at her for a moment,
and said nothing as she turned back to what she was doing. Grace
felt the sting of rejection, but refused to let her mother see the
tears that welled in her eyes. She turned to go, and saw her father
standing in the doorway of the living room. Their eyes met, and he
looked her over once. His mouth was set in a firm line…his tone was
cold.

"I knew you'd come home when you got
hungry.”

With that, he turned around and walked
out.

She wanted to break down and cry at his
harshness. And then, the tear of pain became a tear of anger. While
the little angel on her shoulder told her to forgive and forget,
the little devil on her other shoulder whispered in a darker,
stronger voice.

Forget these fools. They don’t give a damn
about you. Why don’t you just pack up and get the heck out of here
while you can?

She set her shoulders, determined, and she
replied to herself, in a voice equally strong and determined.

I will. And I’ll never look back.

* * * * *

The dawn came, and lying in her bed, she
stared blankly at the ceiling. She thought of Jane leaving
Thornfield in the middle of the night, and the words played
silently in her head.

I knew what I had to do, and I did it
mechanically.

She longed for that kind of strength, the
kind of strength and faith that would lead her on her way. But she
was weak, and she knew it from the knots that tightened in her
stomach. The passing of the night had somehow lessened her resolve
to run away, and now, she was overcome with guilt at the thought of
abandoning her family and the only home she’d ever known.

Despite the hardships of this life, and the
hurt of the night before, she was proud of who she was and where
she came from. It was her home, the only one she'd ever known, and
she knew nothing of the world beyond it, except what she’d read in
books. She had desperately longed to get away and see the world,
but now that the moment of truth had come, she was simply
petrified. She was so tempted to stay, to give in to her weakness
and do what, deep down, she knew she would someday regret. Here at
home, harsh as things could be, it was safe and secure.

But then she thought of Jack, and how he had
fostered in her an independent and strong spirit. She thought of
Jane, too, of course. That great lady was just a character in a
book, to be sure. And yet, she had been the mentor that had guided
her through so many of the lonely and uncertain times in her life.
This moment, like so many before it, was when her mind drifted to
Charlotte Bronte's beautiful words for guidance.

…
Laws and principals are not
for the times when there is no temptation. They are for such
moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their
rigor; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be...

The words started a flow of strength and
courage coursing though her frame, and though her fear still
lingered, she at last rose…knowing that she must begin, and see it
through.

She went about her chores as she always did.
Breakfast was a silent affair, with her brothers unusually quiet
around the table. That was not surprising, considering Mr.
Langdon's sour expression, which was obviously held over from last
night. The boys were wise enough not to provoke him, and Grace gave
silent thanks that there was no mention of Charlie or of anything
else that had been said. She ate breakfast quickly, helped clean
the kitchen, and stole a few moments to slip away to her room.

From under the bed she took out of bag of
old flour sacks. None of their clothes were ever bought in a store.
They were all made from these cotton bags, which she and her mother
would cut and sew into new shirts and an occasional dress just
about every month. Now, one flour sack made a traveling bag for
her, and into it she put the few items in the world she possessed.
A few dresses and her nightgown, some under things, and her boots.
Those she would wait to put on, for if she wore them now, someone
would certainly catch on. Shoes, especially boots, were expensive
and only allowed to be worn in certain circumstances, such as on a
rainy, muddy day. Today was hot and humid, so shoes would be
suspicious. There was a pair of pants there that she had taken from
the laundry and a hat as well, which sat just underneath the bed. A
disguise was something she'd known she would need from the first.
The two men who worked at the depot were brothers she’s seen around
town. But they were not fellow church members, so she did not see
them often. Still, they might have recognized her from somewhere,
and that she could not risk. She added her books to the collection,
and now there was one small thing left to retrieve for her
escape.

Quietly, she went to the front room and
opened the little stand beside the sofa. It was a drawer full of
junk where all manner of things were thrown, including an old pair
of her father's eyeglasses. Why he kept them instead of throwing
them out, she hadn't the foggiest notion, but now she was glad for
it. Carefully popping the lenses out of the wire rims - she would
be blind if she kept them in - she put the frames in her pocket.
Who would notice the glasses had no lenses? No one would be looking
that closely, she was quite certain. Knowing that her mother would
soon be wondering what she was doing, she quickly went out to tend
the garden.
Later that morning, as she sat picking beans from the bush, two
thoughts came to her mind. One was when and how she would go from
here. There was a train that left town at five o'clock in the
evening. But how would she get away from the house without being
seen? That she didn't know yet, and the idea of going still
terrified her, so she put it out of her head and refused to think
about it at that moment. The other thought was just how she would
pay for a ticket.

Good Lord, she hadn't even thought of that
until now. She hadn't a cent to her name, and there was no way she
could ask her folks for the money. She knew where they kept cash.
Being superstitious, and very untrusting of banks, they kept their
funds in mason jars buried in the ground, down at the bottom of the
cliff where the spring ran. She knew where to find it, but God help
her, she wasn't a thief. She already felt her soul was in jeopardy
for not honoring her mother and father. If she added stealing to
her list of broken commandments, there would surely be a spot in
hell saved just for her. At the thought of it, her head fell in her
hands, and she sighed deeply. Then she folded her hands in
prayer.

Dear God, forgive me for
these sins
, she said in silence. As she
thought of it, the bravery that had started her going seemed to
flee. It seemed that all of her plotting and preparations would be
for nothing if she couldn't even manage a simple train ticket, so
now, what was she to do?

All through the afternoon she fought a
battle with herself, torn between self-preservation and the
unbreakable bond she had for her family. It didn't matter what they
did to her. Whether she stayed or went, they were all a part of
her, and they would be until she drew her last breath. There had to
be another way, but for the moment, it was beyond her grasp.

"Lord, help me," she muttered out loud,
bending her head in frustration.

A moment later, she heard the dogs barking
from the front yard. She took out her watch, and seeing that it was
after four o’clock, she realized it must have been her father and
brothers coming home. She felt a sharp pull in her heart when she
realized that the five o'clock hour was fast approaching. If she
was going to act, it would have to be soon, come hell or high
water.