Finding Grace: A Novel

by Sarah Pawley

  He took to pacing back and forth. “You think I don’t love you?” he asked.

  With a groan of frustration, she pressed her hands to her face. “Charlie, how can you say you love me? Love takes time to blossom. We knew each other a long time ago, but we’re grown up now. We ain’t the same people we used to be. If you think on it, you and me are strangers in most ways.”

  He took a sudden step forward, gripping her arm.

  “I’m not good enough for you. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? You’re just like your brother. Too good for anybody who came up with you. I’ve heard what they say about you...that you turn away every man that comes to call. What makes you so high and mighty?”

  His words cut her deeply. But they also made her temper rise. He reminded her of so many other men in her life...how they had tried to use fear and power to intimidate and control her. It was infuriating to think he was trying to do the very same thing. She yanked her arm from his hold.

  “What is wrong with you?” she demanded. “One minute you’re as sweet as pie. The next minute, you’re as mean as a snake. It makes me wonder who the real Charlie Hillard is.”

  He sneered. “I could say the same thing, Grace Langdon. You treat me good one minute, and the next thing you know, you’re throwing a marriage proposal back in my face, looking at me like I was some kind of toad. All this time I thought you really cared about me. Turns out, you’re just like everybody else. Uncle Robert was right...all of you women are liars.”

  “I never lied about anything!”

  His lip curled. “You’re a two-faced bitch, Grace Langdon.”

  If she’d had a good stick at hand, she would have walloped him senseless. Instead, she shoved him backwards as hard as she could.

  “Charlie Hillard, you ain’t worth the gunpowder it would take to shoot you! Now get off of my porch and out of my sight!”

  He snorted. “I wouldn’t stay around here if you got down on your hands and knees and begged me.” He turned towards his car, cursing her as he went. “You’re a fool. And God help the fool who gets stuck with you.”

  He was half way down the drive when she rushed down from the porch to snatch up a rock. With a mighty pitch she hurled it at him, gaining great satisfaction when it hit him in the back. He glared at her, and with a snort of disgust he fled, his car spraying up rocks and dirt in their angry wake as he drove away.

  * * * * *

  Now that he was gone, her hurt came forth in a great wave, demanding full sway. Silent tears began to roll down her cheeks. She angrily brushed them away, feeling shameful for wasting tears on him, but she couldn’t help it. All she wanted to do now was go to her room and hide, cry out her hurt into her pillow, and be done with it. By the morning, she would never have to give another thought to him. She turned back towards the house…and ran smack into her father. His face was flushed dark with anger…and suddenly he grabbed her by the arm, shaking her.

  “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

  She couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth, but found she could not utter a word, and a fearful chill began to run down her spine. Her father's grip was fierce, his steps much too swift, as he pulled her up the steps and into the house. She stumbled slightly at the second step, but he took no notice as he opened the door and yanked her in with him. Her brothers were all gathered in the front room, clustered around the window, and they turned to stare at the two as they came in. But their father wasn’t playing games.

  "Get to bed, or I'll knock the fire out of every one of you!"

  They scattered like rats, and he moved into the kitchen. Pulling out a chair, he forced her into it. She looked up and saw her mother, sitting at the other end of the table, while her father stood over her, his expression dark.

  "Girl, what kind of fool are you? A man puts his pride on the line, asking for your hand, and you run him off like he's some kind of varmint?"

  Her voice was small as she answered, trying hard to force back tears.

  "It wasn't my fault. You should have heard some of the ugly things he said to me.” Surely they would understand when she told them what they hadn't heard. "He said awful things to me. He said I never cared about him. But that's not true. I cared more about him than anybody."

  Rachel spoke up, coldly. "Well you have a fair way of showing it. He come here and gave you the chance for something better, and you spit in his face."

  Grace’s voice squeaked. "But Mama, I don’t love Charlie. I can’t marry a man I don’t love, especially one like him.”

  "Oh for Pete's sake!" cried Rachel, rising up from her seat, her chair scraping the floor loudly, and Grace jumped at the sound. Rachel walked back and forth for a moment, cradling her forehead in her hands, shaking her head. Then she froze, folding her arms. She looked at her Grace with an icy glare.

  "Did you know he could’ve had his pick of any girl in this county?"

  Grace didn’t see what that had to do with anything. "What does that mean to me?" she asked.

  Her father stood over her. "When he gets married, he gets all the land his father left. That don't mean just the old shack in the woods. That means the big house in the valley, and the two-hundred acres of good bottom land that goes with it. And you just threw away the chance to have every bit of it."

  Grace felt a numbness taking over her body. So that was why he was in such a rush to marry her. He had said his father had left him the house, but he had left out the part about needing a wife to acquire the property. And now, it seemed her own family was turning against her. No matter that Charlie had lied to her, had treated her so meanly. If they could get rid of her, like a burdensome cow they no longer needed, then they really and truly would. She was just another mouth to feed, and the best way to get rid of her was to give her to a man in marriage. All of her life she’d known what is was to be of small value, but she never believed they would stoop so low as this. It hurt so badly it made her breathless. And it lit the fire of anger in her belly. That anger had served her well before, and it came to her aid again, as she lifted her chin in defiance.

  "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 sa
d 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.