The Color Of Grace (21 page)

A flitter of uncertainty edged his gaze as Adam said, “Do
you think—”

“Yes,” I answered before he could finish the question. “You
have nothing to worry about.”

Shoulders relaxing, he nodded before thanking me. Then he
shivered and glanced out at the falling snow on the lawn. “Well, I think I’m
going to shove off before I turn into a Popsicle.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Jumping into the role of hostess, I
pointed to the front door. “Do you want to come in for some hot chocolate?”

He cast a leery glance toward the shades covering the large
front window. “Uh, no thanks. I don’t think your stepdad wanted me around.”
Turning back to me, he lifted his eyebrows. “The guy sends out some pretty
clear vibes.”

Something inside me shuddered with fear. But I kept my face
passive. At least I hoped I did. “Barry wouldn’t mind,” I assured, hoping my
own claim was true.

Adam shook his head anyway. “That’s okay. I, uh, I kind of
wanted to head over to Bridget’s.”

I felt like slapping my palm to my forehead. Of course he
wanted to see Bridget now. Duh. “Then what’re you still doing here?” I accused
with a smile, grasping his elbow and nudging him toward the porch steps. “Get
over there already, Romeo.”

He rolled his eyes but loped off with a grin. As he reached
his car, he glanced back and waved at me. I waved too and then folded my arms
back over my chest to keep in as much warmth as possible, which wasn’t much to
begin with. My toes were beginning to burn with cold. Yet I stood there and
watched my friend drive away. I didn’t go back inside until about thirty
seconds after his car disappeared around a corner. Then I shivered and hurried
toward the entrance.

Thankfully, Barry wasn’t lingering anywhere nearby, so I
slipped to my room and closed the door, locking it.

Mom got home by nine that evening. I heard the garage door
open and close and then two muffled voices followed as she and Barry no doubt
greeted each other. I stayed in my room, doing homework without putting much
effort into it.

Half an hour later, I received a text alert from the school,
saying classes had been cancelled the next day due to inclement weather. In
relief, I shut my textbook and turned to my laptop. I didn’t go into any social
networking sites though; I didn’t really feel like chatting online with anyone.
So I cruised the web, checking out a couple expensive cameras I was saving my
money to buy.

I was almost wishing I hadn’t tucked Barry’s sixty dollars
he’d slipped into my purse back on top of his dresser with the rest of his
spare change when I heard the home phone ring in the background. Seconds later,
a knock came at my door.

“Grace,” Mom called in a pleasant enough voice to gain my
attention.

What was this? My mom wanted to talk to me? Calmly?

I hopped off the bed and went to unlock the door, pulling it
open.

She held the cordless phone against her shoulder. “With
school cancelled tomorrow, Rita Gruber needs a babysitter for her son, Cody.
Could you watch him?”

I blinked. “Who’s Rita Gruber?”

Her sigh was irritated. Eyebrows pinching together, she
impatiently explained, “She’s Barry’s receptionist. She only lives a couple
blocks away. You could walk to their house without any trouble.”

I grimaced. She narrowed her eyes.

Babysitting wasn’t something I did often. Besides, what kind
of kid was this Cody? How old? Would I be changing dirty diapers or trying to
keep him off porn channels? It didn’t even occur to me he had to be school age
since that’s exactly why I was needed to babysit.

Don’t ask where my brain was, because I couldn’t give you a
good answer.

“Well?” Mom finally snapped, her patience dissolved into a
dirty scowl.

“Fine,” I muttered and shut the door in her face, clicking
the lock as loud as I could.

Slumping back to the bed, I collapsed on top of the mattress
and stared at the ceiling.

Babysitting. Ugh.

Lonely, bored, and irritable, I rolled onto my stomach and
pulled my laptop closer, logging in to my email to see if maybe Adam had
already visited Bridget and she had maybe contacted me with the outcome. When I
saw I actually had something from Facebook, I brightened. Until I glanced to
the right and read the subject line.

Todd Stangman sent you a message on
Facebook
.

Groaning, I clicked and read.

Hey, we’re going sledding tomorrow.
Want to come?

Suddenly, I wasn’t so upset about having to babysit after
all. I wrote him back with my handy-dandy excuse and sent my regrets.

* * * *

Turned out, Cody Gruber was only a first grader. And he
still took naps.

For the first half of the morning, the little maniac ran me
breathless. The kid went full-speed nonstop. And he demanded I play with him.
No camping out on the couch with my feet up watching soap operas all day while
he quietly played with Tonka trucks on the floor. No. We had to play pretend.
And more often than not, I got to be the tortured victim.

By lunch, I was ready for a nap. But Cody kept going. His
mother told me he usually slept in the afternoon, and right on schedule, four
o’clock came around and he dropped like a stone. I tried to carry him from the
couch where he collapsed to his bedroom, but first graders are not as light as
one would think.

Panting as I left his room and softly closed the door, I
wiped an exhausted hand across my brow, thinking it was Grace naptime too.

But the doorbell rang.

I was startled to find Todd, of all people, standing on the
front steps with a huge smile.

My mouth fell open. “What…how…”

His grin grew. “Hey, this is Osage. Everyone knows where
everyone else lives.”

“Right,” I grumbled.

Todd tried to come inside.

“Whoa.” I dodged into his path. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m coming in. It’s freaking cold out here.”

“But—”

He came inside.

I ground my teeth and closed the door after him. “I really
don’t think Mrs. Gruber would like me having friends over while I’m working.”

He ignored my concerned frown, glancing around the living
room. “Where is the little monster, anyway?”

I vaguely waved my hand toward the opening of the hall that
led to Cody’s room. “He’s sleeping, but—”

“Really?” Todd wiggled his eyebrows. “And when does Mrs.
Gruber get home?”

My gut churned with anger, irritation, and fear. “Any minute
now,” I said, though I really didn’t know. Barry sometimes came home before I
even made it out of school. Other nights, he worked until after six.

“I don’t think you should be here,” I said just as the phone
rang.

I held up a hand, silently telling him to stay before I spun
around to race to the back of the house, where I’d spotted the phone earlier in
the kitchen. I answered and promptly hung up as a telemarketer began rattling
off something; I didn’t wait to hear what she was selling.

I whirled around and let out a yelp, jarring to a halt before
I could plow into Todd’s chest.

“So how much time do you think we have?”

I opened my mouth to say,
none
, but the jerk swooped in with that sneaky action of his and
kissed me.

And right on schedule, the back door opened, admitting Mrs.
Gruber into the kitchen.

Todd flew backward, wiped his mouth, and sent Barry’s
receptionist a guilty little smirk. Then he winked at me, turned on his heel,
and strode from the room, exiting out the front of the house.

I was embarrassed. Obviously. Todd had made me look
unprofessional in front of Mrs. Gruber. She’d never ask me to watch her son
again; I could tell by the reproachful crinkle in her eyebrows.

I wanted to defend myself and say I hadn’t invited him; I
hadn’t even welcomed him when he showed up. But humiliated to the bone, I just
stood there and waited in uncomfortable silence as Mrs. Gruber dug through her
purse, looking for cash to pay me.

I should’ve blurted something out like, “You don’t have to
worry about paying,” and then ran out of there as if my tail was on fire. I
didn’t feel like I deserved the money anyway, but my voice box blipped out and
my feet wouldn’t move, so I waited, mortified and ashamed.

I slugged home through the cold, slushy
snow with my head hung low and my hands bunched into fists, thinking up new and
creative ways to make Todd Stangman suffer.

“Have a good time babysitting?” Barry asked as soon as I
pushed open the front door. A gleam of amusement twinkled in his eyes before he
wiggled his brows suggestively.

My face immediately went molten hot.

Oh, God. “Mrs. Gruber already called, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did,” Mom answered, appearing at Barry’s side. She
was still in her nurse’s outfit, probably just getting home from work, too.
“And I can’t say how disappointed I am with you, Grace, inviting some
boy
over to a stranger’s house while you
were—”

“I didn’t invite him.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t kick him out. From the way Rita
talked, you two were practically—”

I gasped. “We were not!”

“Is this the same boy Barry caught you kissing on the front
porch?”

I sliced a surprised look Barry’s way. I had no idea he’d
told Mom about that. Paranoid as I’d grown around him recently, I still thought
we’d become friends of a sort. I thought he’d keep some kind of confidence with
me.

Obviously, I was wrong, and I could no longer count on him
to be my friend.

“Well?” Mom demanded.

“Yes,” I mumbled. “His name’s Todd.”

“Is Todd your boyfriend?”

I shrugged, forcing myself not to wince at the word. But if
I said no, that would only make the situation look ten times worse.

“And what about the other boys?”

I frowned and glanced up. Huh? “What other boys?”

“Barry saw you talking to two different
boys at the bowling alley. And then some kid with a guitar showed up and sang
you a song. None of them were this Todd he’d seen you kissing.”

My jaw dropped. What exactly had Barry been telling her?
Losing all trust in him, I somehow managed not to send him a lethal glare and
instead bunched my jaw tight as I kept eye contact with my mother.

Talking through gritted teeth, I explained, “The boy with
the guitar was only Adam. He’d written a new song and wanted my opinion.” I
could’ve gone on to explain he’d written the song for Bridget so there was no
way she needed to worry about him. But I was so mad, I didn’t feel the need for
such explanation.

“And the boy
your
husband
 
saw in the bowling alley was
Joel Forthright…
Bridget’s
older
brother. He wasn’t even there with my group but was with his own friends and
was just saying hi when he saw me.”

“So what about the other boy at the bowling alley?”

Ryder. I felt my face drain. Now
he
was probably the only boy she would ever have to worry about.

“He was…no one,” I said, shaking my head. “Just some friend
of Todd’s.”

My mother narrowed her eyes. “Barry said you two
looked…cozy.”

This time I couldn’t help it; I shot Barry a look to kill.
“We did not! He has a girlfriend.”

Folding her hands over her chest and cocking her hip in a
motherly gesture, Mom sent me a look that told me she clearly didn’t believe
me.

I rolled my eyes. Whatever. She could believe what she
wanted to believe. “Are we through with the third degree? May I go to my room
now?”

“No. It’s your night to make supper.”

“Great,” I muttered and bumped past her as I stormed toward
the kitchen. “That’s exactly what I wanted to do anyway.”

Missing the silent treatment more and more, I started supper
in teeth-grinding resignation.

Chapter 17

My mother is yellow like the wallpaper
in Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s short story. If I stay trapped within the walls
of her putrid world, I’ll go insane. She’s deceitful like a pretty lemon tart.
She began as bright sunshine. A vibrant daffodil or sweet corn. But over time,
her brightness dulled, and her true sour taste emerged. I’ve caught her yellow
fever, suffering under her pressing craze and deceit. How can she treat me this
way? Doesn’t she love me anymore?

* * * *

If I never saw Todd Stangman again for the rest of my life,
I thought that would be just fine. When I walked into Southeast on Monday
morning, I decided I was through with him, and his
friend,
and their entire group. For good this time.