Finding Grace: A Novel

by Sarah Pawley

  He cleared his throat, feeling a sudden tightening there. He wondered for a moment if she might cry, and he prayed that she would not, for he could not bear to see such an outpouring of emotion. He had never been entirely comfortable with such sentiment. Although, where Grace was concerned, he was starting to change his ways. But he knew it would be cruel to deny this woman answers, and so he spoke, trying to remain cool and collected as he gave them.

  “Your daughter is well, or as well as can be expected. She’s been happy until the last few weeks. And despite what you might think, she doesn’t speak ill of you or your husband.”

  There was a pause, and a moment of silence. “What about my son?”

  He sighed, knowing that what he was about to say was bittersweet. But she had asked, and he would tell.

  “John has been very happy, until this recent bad luck with his sister. I’ve been told that you and your husband weren’t happy with his choice of a wife. But let me tell you, Mrs. Langdon. Alice is a good woman. Maybe the best I’ve ever known. And as a matter of fact, she will be blessing you and your family, despite the bitter feelings you’ve had towards her.”

  Mrs. Langdon raised an eyebrow, her face alight with curiosity.

  “She’s having a baby, Mrs. Langdon. In January, you will be a Grandmother.”

  The look on her face was indescribable. She and her husband had wasted so much time in their bitterness, and were probably aware of it, whether they wanted to admit it or not. But if ever there was something to make them realize it was time to come to their senses, the prospect of being grandparents might just be it.

  “A grandchild,” she said, almost in a whisper. “My sweet Lord.”

  Had it put her doubts to rest? He couldn’t say. But it had certainly gotten her attention. Perhaps fearing she might burst into tears or otherwise lose her composure, she rose to her feet and went back to her cooking.

  The back door opened. Henry turned to look. There stood Mr. Langdon, carrying an armful of thick firewood. He paused for a moment as he eyed Henry, and then wordlessly he walked to the stove to put the wood on the fire. He turned to leave, but Mrs. Langdon stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. She looked at him, but spoke to Henry.

  “Mr. Shaw, would you mind leaving us alone for a minute?”

  Henry did not question why. He simply nodded, picked up his coffee cup, and stepped outside.

  For several minutes he sat alone on the back porch. It was a lovely morning out, full of sunshine and the smell of the damp earth. He might have felt quite at peace, were it not for the turmoil he knew was going on just inside the house. The moment of truth was upon them all, and all he could do now was wait.

  It was several moments later when the door opened, and he looked over to see Mrs. Langdon there. He questioned her with his eyes.

  “Breakfast is ready,” she said.

  “And the other matter?” he asked.

  She waited a long moment before she answered, her voice small but firm in its tone.

  “We’ll be leaving whenever you’re ready, Mr. Shaw.”

  * * * * *

  The room was dark, except for the light of the moon stealing in from between the curtains. Unable to sleep, Grace longed to go to that window and throw the curtains open so she might see the moon and stars. The doctor had urged her to remain in bed and rest, but she had been resting in that infernal bed for too long. She couldn’t stand it anymore. Throwing back the blanket she took a deep breath, and turning herself to put her feet on the floor, she felt the pain of a body still healing. She gritted her teeth, sat very still for a moment, and waited until the pain subsided a little. It never went away completely - it was always there, even if it was only dimmed down to a slight throbbing sensation.

  She tried to rise, and suddenly found that her legs, weakened from lack of movement, would not support her, and she fell back into a sitting position. But in a moment she was up again, determined to stand, though she had to cling to the bed stand for support. After a few moments of bearing her own weight, at last her legs began to stabilize, and she managed several wobbly steps before collapsing against the chair. The arm of the chair kept her from falling down to the floor, and with a great effort she pulled herself up and into the seat, where she sank with both relief and pain against the cushioned back.

  Such a small thing, she thought, To go from a bed to a chair. And yet, it felt like the greatest triumph. To move again…to regain some small degree of independence. No one, not even some highly educated doctor, could keep her from such a personal victory. Now that she had made the adjustment from one place to another, she found that she was quite exhausted from the effort. But she had no wish to get up and return to the confinement of the bed. So she leaned against the arm of the chair and looked out the window, where the moon was shining full and the stars were twinkling like diamonds.

  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 th
e 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 con
sidering 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.”