The Truth About Grace

by Cassie Dandridge Selleck

I loved Mr. Pecan. I remember following him around like a little puppy. Wherever he went, I was right behind him. He taught me how to prune roses and how to fix the chain on my bike. He taught me how to play marbles and mumbly peg, which my mama wasn’t none too happy about. She didn’t want me playin’ with knifes, no matter how small. I don’t know why I didn’t go see him when he was out at that prison. Well, I guess I do know why. I was kind of afraid if I went I’d never come back.

  I don’t think I’ll ever sort this out. Mr. Pecan knew, too, and he didn’t tell me. All he had to do is just whisper to me one time – it ain’t a dream, child. It happened to you. That’s all he had to do and he didn’t do it, neither.

  But I can’t think about all that right now. I gotta figure out a way to keep going. I been clean longer than I usually make it, and I’m stayin’ with Miss Ora. I got Patrice and my sisters and my kids to live for and didn’t none of them know what happened to me. I just gotta have an attitude of gratitude. That’s what they used to say in one of the rehabs. I remember thinking…huh, yeah…I’ll be grateful when I get outta this place, dude. That’s when I’ll be grateful. Still, sometimes it works.

  8 – Patrice

  Aunt Tressa and I arrived at Mrs. Beckworth’s house at 10:00 a.m. on the dot. Grace was out in the backyard tending the garden. I stood at the kitchen window and watched my sister bent over a copse of tea roses with a pair of pruning scissors in her hand. She held each stem she cut by the outermost leaves, then dropped the pruned section into a five-gallon bucket at her feet. The morning sun illuminated her face and, for the first time in years, I saw my sister as I remember her from childhood. She looked up then, and I moved away from the window and stepped onto the porch to wave her in. Aunt Tressa followed.

  “Hey!” Grace met us with childlike exuberance, as if nothing had happened the night before. She hugged me tight, holding her body against mine a few moments longer than a casual greeting.

  “I love you so much,” she said just before letting go.

  I felt myself relax then, like yielding in a way, not bracing like I’d done for months – no – years now.

  She gave Aunt Tressa a quick hug and laughed when she realized she still held the pruning shears.

  “You look right at home in that backyard,” Aunt Tressa said.

  Grace smiled and nodded. “I kinda grew up here. Mr. Pecan taught me how to tend flowers and I took over for him when he went away. The camellias are overgrown and the roses are a little rangy, but not as bad as I thought they’d be. Last time I was here was two years ago. They don’t get the attention they used to, but I’ll get ’em back into shape.”

  Aunt Tressa squinted at her. “In one day?”

  Grace laughed. “No, Miss Ora wants me to stay here a while.” She shrugged like it was out of her hands, and we entered the kitchen together. Miss Ora was still at the kitchen table, reading her morning paper.

  “For how long?” I asked Grace.

  “I don’t know. Ask her yourself,” Grace said.

  Miss Ora looked up at me. “I hope it’s okay, Patrice. I should have spoken to you first…”

  “It certainly isn’t up to me,” I said, more sharply than I intended. “She has options.”

  “Speaking of options…” Miss Ora has an odd way about her, ignoring tension like it isn’t there. My mama, on the other hand, might not have called me out on my tone, but I’d have known real quick that she noticed and disapproved. Miss Ora just glossed right over my sarcasm like it was sincerity. “Why don’t we move to the dining room for a minute. I have a few things I’d like to discuss with all of you. Legal things, so I think it’s best to get this out of the way while Tressa is still here.”

  We migrated to Miss Ora’s long mahogany table which had obviously been prepared in advance. There were four places set with delicate teacups and saucers, and a plate of butter cookies beside an ornate silver tea service in the center of the table. My sisters used to love helping Miss Ora polish that set. Despite the nostalgia, I couldn’t help feeling a little ambushed.

  Miss Ora took her place at the head of the table. She looked frail and shaky, despite being dressed in a suit I hadn’t seen her wear in years.

  “As you just heard,” she began, “I’ve asked Gracie to stay with me for a while. I feel like it will be mutually beneficial in the long run. I haven’t been feeling myself lately, and I could use some company at the very least, and possibly a little assistance, though she is certainly under no obligation to me whatsoever. I have no idea how long it will be, of course…”

  Her voice seemed to catch and she cleared her throat and reached for the teapot. Her hands shook so badly she spilled water onto the table before she even reached her cup. She set the pot back onto the tray and sat down looking a little bewildered. Aunt Tressa, sitting immediately to Miss Ora’s right, slid the linen napkin from beneath the silverware at her place setting and mopped up the spill before it did any damage.

  “Here, let me,” she said, and filled all of our cups with steaming water.

  “I don’t know when I started getting so clumsy,” Miss Ora said.

  I busied myself with the teabag. Grace ignored the water in her cup and plunged onward. “How long it will be until what?”

  “Well, until I’m gone, I suppose.”

  “Are you dyin’ or something?” Grace asked.

  Miss Ora gave a little laugh. “Well, eventually, I suppose, but that’s not exactly what I meant. Clara Jean took my formal confession. I’m planning on taking it to the state attorney’s office,” she began. “I have no idea what will happen with that. I’m waiting to hear from Clara Jean that it’s been transcribed.”

  “Why are you calling it a confession, Miss Ora?” Grace sat forward in her chair and braced both hands against the table. “You didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

  “Oh, but I did,” Ora looked at me for confirmation, I thought, and I gave a non-committal shrug in response. It’s not for me to decide. “I destroyed evidence in a criminal case at the very least.

  “What evidence?” Grace demanded.

  “Calm down, Grace.” I shoved the cookies toward my sister. “Eat some cookies and just listen.”

  “I’m not a child.” Grace reached for the cookies anyway.

  “I’m not saying what I did was wrong – God can judge that – but it was certainly against the law. If I had it to do over again, I doubt I would have done differently. I’ve made peace with my choices. We all did what we did and we have to live with the consequences. Mine may well be that I go to prison, and I’m prepared to do that.” Grace stiffened and shook her head, but Miss Ora held up both hands to silence her and went on. “Yours, Gracie, have been far more devastating. We did not handle your situation well.” She lifted a note pad from the sideboard behind her and set it down beside her place setting. “That’s why I have a proposal that I feel suits everyone’s needs at this time.”

  I think Aunt Tressa was the most surprised when Miss Ora revealed what she and I had discussed months before. She was leaving her house to my sisters and me. I was a little confused, though. From the sounds of it, she was not planning on waiting until she was gone.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Aunt Tressa asked.

  I didn’t take her question personally. I was still considering the implications of her news. But Grace frowned at her for a brief second. I don’t think Aunt Tressa noticed. She was looking intently at Miss Ora.

  “I’ve discussed it with my personal attorney. It will be in a trust at first, with Patrice and I as co-trustees. We have a contingency plan in place if that becomes necessary,” Miss Ora said, “but I don’t think it will. I just need to get my ducks in a row while I still can.”

  “Where will you go?” Aunt Tressa asked.

  “She’s not going anywhere right now,” I interrupted. “She’s staying right here.”

  Aunt Tressa looked back and forth between Miss Ora and me several times, as if she were weighing what she was about t
o say and to whom she would say it. She finally settled on Miss Ora. “Didn’t I just understand you to say that the transfer of the deed is imminent, Mrs. Beckworth?”

  “Oh, please, can we just dispense with the formalities?” Miss Ora slid the linen napkin out from under her teaspoon and dabbed at the corners of her mouth. “Call me Ora. I still think of my mother-in-law when I hear ‘Mrs. Beckworth,’ and that is not altogether a positive association, God rest her soul.”

  Aunt Tressa laughed. “Fair enough. Ora it is.”

  “So wait,” I said, “you’re transferring ownership – like – now?”

  “We already talked about this,” Ora said. “We’re transferring it to the family trust.”

  I probably could have handled this better, but I was not in the mood to be patronized, to be honest. “I know that,” I snapped, “but I didn’t know it would happen this soon. I don’t want to be rude, but I have a lot on my plate right now.”

  The silence in the room was palpable. Miss Ora’s mouth hung open for a brief moment before her manners kicked in and she closed it with a click of her teeth. Aunt Tressa broke the tension by placing her hand gently over mine.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry,” I was immediately contrite. “I’m just overwhelmed.”

  “I think we all are,” she agreed, then added without considering her words, “This whole thing has been a case of information overload.”

  A wave of realization washed over Miss Ora’s face, staining her face and neck a bright pink.

  “Oh, Lord…what was I thinking?” She clasped both hands to her cheeks and sank into her chair. “It just never occurred to me that I might be telling too much too soon.”

  Grace piped up then. “May be a fine line between too much, too soon, and too little, too late. I’m guessing it depends on where you’re standin’.”

  I glared at her and shook my head. Really, she can be so thoughtless sometimes. Grace shrugged and picked at her fingernails. “I’m just sayin’…”

  Miss Ora seemed to shrink in her chair. I thought she was going to speak, but she didn’t. She just stared at Grace, who did not look up from her hands.

  “So where do we go from here?” Aunt Tressa asked after another moment of awkward silence.

  I looked over at Grace and saw her freeze. It was like she knew I was watching her and refused to breathe until I looked away. I wondered for a moment what it must have felt like for Grace to have been cast aside like she was. She was betrayed, but it wasn’t by me. And still – there she sits, waiting for the next rebuke, the next reason to feel like nobody cares. She looked up then and caught my eye. She sat up straight and fixed me with a gaze I could not read. I turned to Aunt Tressa, but still said nothing.

  She tried again. “I told my husband I wasn’t coming home right away. I feel like I might be needed here, but I don’t want to intrude.”

  “I would appreciate your help.” I said, and felt my shoulders drop with relief.

  “I would, too,” Miss Ora said. “Lord knows I’ve made a mess of things as it is.”

  Grace was non-committal. “Whatever works for y’all.”

  Aunt Tressa took the reins then, and we made a list of questions going forward. We had legal concerns and logistical ones. We had no idea what the state’s attorney would do with Ora’s confession, and that caused a stir in itself. It was the only time Grace didn’t sit there looking bored.

  “When will you know what the prosecutor will do with the case?” Aunt Tressa directed this question at me, apparently assuming I had been involved in the confession.

  “I have no idea,” I responded. “Clara handled all that.”

  “Remind me who Clara is?” Aunt Tressa said. “I remember hearing the name yesterday.”

  “Clara Jean Smallwood,” Ora replied. “She used to work for Judge Odell, who was a personal friend of mine. She transcribed my confession.”

  Grace flung her hands into her lap as if they were gloves she’d just peeled off and not cuticles. “I wish you would stop calling it a confession, Miss Ora. You didn’t kill nobody.”

  “No, but I covered up a crime – though I’m still not sure I consider what Marcus did a crime at all. In my mind, it was self-defense. He didn’t start that fight. He just finished it.”

  I had questions about my brother’s involvement with Skipper’s death, but I wasn’t ready to ask them just yet. Marcus wasn’t just my brother, he was my best friend, and not a day goes by that I don’t mourn his absence.

  Aunt Tressa had no way of knowing how raw it still was for me and asked a perfectly reasonable question. “What exactly happened? I never heard the whole story.”

  “This may not be the time to go into all that,” Ora said. “Suffice it to say that Skipper Kornegay’s body had over twenty wounds, all inflicted by his own knife, but wielded by Marcus Lowery.”

  I immediately felt nauseous and slumped in my seat. Grace leaned forward in her chair, all ears. Miss Ora paused and seemed to be considering what to say next. She drew her lips into a thin line, closed her eyes and breathed in through her nose. I thought she held her breath for an extraordinary amount of time, and when she finally exhaled, she gave this account:

  “When Marcus showed up at my house covered in blood, he told me what happened and I believed him. I believe him to this day. He ran into Skipper by accident and they had words. Marcus confronted him and Skipper not only admitted what he’d done, he taunted Marcus – mocked him – then chased him into the woods. He would have killed him, I’m certain of that. Skipper pulled a knife and attacked your brother.” She looked directly at me when she said this. “Which, of course, was foolish. Marcus was always a strong, athletic boy, but he was near the end of basic training. He’d never been more prepared for a fight than at that moment. He fought back and won. I want you to know something though. Your brother was…he was one of the most honorable young men I’ve ever known. He was distraught. He had taken another boy’s life. And whether or not it was self-defense, Marcus knew he’d been motivated by an anger and hatred he didn’t know he was capable of bearing. This boy, who mocked him and called him a horrible name. This boy, who raped his baby sister –”

  Grace made a choking sound and covered her face with both hands. Ora’s voice shook with emotion as she continued.

  “I’m sorry, Gracie. Marcus loved you so much.” She picked up a napkin and clenched it in one hand. “I knew I had to get him out of town. I needed to at least buy some time. I meant to spare Blanche more trauma, but if I’m honest with myself, I know I would have done anything – anything – to keep Marcus out of prison.” Ora could not go on. She covered her mouth with the napkin, coughed a couple of times and then dabbed at her eyes.

  “And his name was never brought up with regard to the Kornegay case?” Tressa asked.

  “Not to my knowledge,” Ora answered. “The Kornegay boy was missing for a couple of days, which nearly killed me. I was about to blow the whole thing when they found his body. It had rained hard the night before, so there was very little evidence at the scene.”

  “What about the knife?”

  “I don’t know. I never thought to ask about that.”

  It was too much. Too much. I stood abruptly and excused myself.

  “Sister,” Grace reached out as I passed, but I sidestepped and avoided her grasp.

  “Let her go,” I heard Ora say as I stepped into the kitchen. “She just needs a minute.”

  I could hear them discussing the details of the case, with Grace asking question after question, but I didn’t want to be in the room. When it seemed they were winding down, I poured myself a glass of water and rejoined them at the dining room table.

  Aunt Tressa waited for me to sit down and then changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking about something, and I’m not really sure how to approach it, so I think I’ll just hit it head on. This family, myself included, has suffered unthinkable trauma, both over the years
and in the past few days.”

  Miss Ora covered her face with her hands.

  “Ora, you did what you thought was right. I want you to hear me,” Aunt Tressa waited for Ora to look at her.

  “I’m listening,” she said.

  “I’m not criticizing you at all. What happened, happened. Nothing can be undone. But we all need each other right now, and we all need counseling. I’ve done a little work over the years trying to come to terms with my absentee father, but so much has changed, I don’t even know what to think, and I’m the least affected of all of us.

  And the thing is,” she continued, “I think we need family counseling to get through this. I’m sitting here looking at family I’d like to know better, but I’m afraid I’ll walk away from here and never see any of you again. There is so much good that can come of these revelations, and yet there is so much that can destroy us all, especially Grace, and I, for one, cannot bear the thought.”

  “I’m already destroyed, Aunt Tressa,” Grace said without looking up.

  “I see that,” she replied. “But I promise you, Gracie…look at me. I promise you, we’ll get help for you. There must be some residential facilities close by…”

  “See,” Grace interrupted. “That’s y’all’s idea of help. Get rid of the problem by sending it away.”

  Miss Ora flinched like she’d been slapped. “Gracie, no, that’s not what she meant. Tressa, tell her.”

  Aunt Tressa did not speak. I could tell she was weighing her words. I do the same thing sometimes.

  “I’m not staying in another one of those places,” Grace shook her head vehemently. “Last time I went, I met the guy who made me relapse when I got out.”

  “Made you?” I scoffed. “Like you don’t have any control over your own choices?”

  “Actually, Sister, I do have control,” Grace snarled right back. “I’m not going.”

  “Okay,” Aunt Tressa said. “Looks like we have a stalemate. Maybe we should consider some other options.”

  I looked over at Miss Ora, who was obviously deep in thought.