Saving Grace

by J. M. Hill

  Not tired. What are you watching?

  Harry and Sally. Good stuff.

  I waited, but the phone was quiet. I sighed, and tried to focus on the movie, when the phone vibrated with his next message.

  I was just wondering, are you wearing your flannel pajamas?

  I giggled as I typed: As a matter of fact, yes. Why?

  Just remembering how cute you are in those.

  I snorted a laugh, unsure of how to reply, when I received his next message.

  Grace?

  Yes?

  Go to your window.

  My heart lurched into my throat as I jumped out of bed, and pushed the curtains away from the window. There he was, the dim light from his cell phone illuminating his crooked smile. I opened the window and leaned out, the chill of the wintry air hit my face.

  “Hi,” he said. “Can I come in?”

  I smiled, stepping aside and holding the curtain back. We both laughed quietly as he climbed clumsily through my window. When he was inside, I closed the window and pulled the curtains closed. He stood there in black plaid flannel pants, gray tee shirt and leather jacket. His hair was going in about a hundred different directions, and I tried to tame the wildness of his hair by running my fingers through the strands.

  “What exactly are you doing?” I asked as he smiled widely at me.

  He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder at the television.

  “I want to watch a movie with you.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

  “You know it’s after midnight, and you have to leave in less than six hours?”

  “I don’t care. I’m not going to be able to sleep anyway.”

  No way was I going to argue with him. I climbed under the covers while he took off his jacket, draping it over the chair, and kicked off his shoes. He watched as I propped up several pillows against the headboard, patting the bed next to me. He climbed onto the bed, and got comfortable. I leaned against him, his arms around me, and we watched Harry and Sally saying, “Waiter, there is too much pepper on my Paprikash”, which made us laugh.

  “Have you seen this before?” I asked.

  “Mom loves this movie, and I used to have a thing for Meg Ryan.”

  I sat up, eyeing him quizzically. “Really?”

  His expression was amused. “Does that surprise you?”

  “No.” I shrugged. “Not at all. She’s very cute.”

  “Well, you have a thing for Sly,” he pointed out.

  “True.” I sighed dramatically and he poked my side playfully, making me giggle.

  “You know he’s like seventy now,” he said dryly. “He’s way too old for you.”

  “Yeah,” I snorted. “And Meg is just your age.”

  “I said I used to have a thing for her,” he clarified. “I don’t any more. I have a thing for this brunette I know.”

  He raised his eyebrows at me, and I leaned against him again. He traced invisible patterns on my back lightly, and my eyes began to get heavy.

  “Michael?”

  “Hm?”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  He sighed and kissed the top of my head, holding his lips there.

  “Will you stay?” I asked. “Until you have to leave in the morning?”

  He nodded against my head, and I could feel his breath in my hair.

  “I want you to sleep,” he whispered.

  My eyes closed, and I drifted happily in his arms.

  I draped my arm over my eyes to block the light that was still on, and smiled remembering Michael climbing through my window last night. I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was just after six a.m.. I turned onto my back again, flopping my arms over my head. There was a rustle of paper against my elbow, and I sat up, seeing a note lying on my pillow. I opened it and read Michael’s words:

  Grace,

  I’m going to miss you every day, loving you even more.

  When you sleep, dream of me, because I’ll be dreaming of you.

  Yours Always,

  Michael

  I returned the note to the pillow, feeling the ache in my chest as I thought about him leaving. I glanced at the clock again. Maybe he hadn’t left yet. I jumped out of bed and ran to my bathroom, brushing my teeth quickly to rid my mouth of morning breath, and then pulled on my slippers and robe. I quietly went to the front door, opening it as silently as I could. It was cold, and there was a thin layer of snow on the ground.

  Michael was loading his suitcase into the back of his Yukon, and I sighed in relief as I went down the steps quickly, and trudged across the gravel drive.

  “Grace?”

  I ran to him and buried my face in his chest, as he held me tightly.

  “You’re going to get sick.” His voice was worried, and honestly I felt a little silly, but I didn’t care.

  “I just wanted to see you before you left.” I squeezed him tightly.

  Their front door closed, and Garrett came to the driveway in his pajamas, his hair a mass of untamed waves.

  “Gracie-Beth.” He shook his head disdainfully. “You’re going to catch your death.”

  Michael nodded in agreement. “He’s right. Go home, I’ll see you soon.”

  He kissed me softly, and smiled. Garrett pulled me toward him just as Miles came out the door, grimacing when he saw me standing there.

  “Grace—” He shook his head.

  “I know, I know,” I told him. “I’m going.”

  Michael chuckled quietly, and Garrett squeezed my shoulders.

  “I’m going to go into town, and then I’ll be over,” he said. “You want me to bring you something from the shop?” I nodded and he gave me a wink, knowing my answer, and then pointed to my house. “Go home.”

  I glanced at Michael again, the ache in my chest returning as I turned to go, walking slowly back home. The car doors closed and the engine started as I closed went inside and shut front door. I stood at the window, waiting for his car to go by. The Yukon crawled to a halt in front of the house and the driver’s window came down slowly. Michael leaned out of the window, smiling widely as he watched me for a moment before driving away. I returned to my room, and looked at the note still on my pillow, deciding to leave it there.

  The five days Michael was gone was brutal.

  I’d barely slept except for the occasional nap when Kate or Garrett were with me. I’d lost track of how many hours it had been since I closed my eyes for longer than thirty minutes. In addition to being a zombie, I was also overly emotional. Thursday night Kate and sat at the kitchen table, and I wept over a song on the radio. It was a good song, but still, I was a disaster.

  Kate tried to make me feel better by going Dr. Phil on me. She assured me that my emotional- rollercoaster-ride was a combination of trauma from the attack, the medications, and separation anxiety. I couldn’t argue because she was so sure of herself, as usual.

  When I went into my room to check my phone, there were several texts from Michael.

  Where are you?

  His ‘tone’ grew more impatient with each text.

  If you don’t respond to this in five minutes I’m calling and I won’t be happy.

  Two minutes…

  I had to giggle as I typed quickly to make the deadline:

  Go ahead and call. I’d rather hear your voice anyway.

  It wasn’t even two minutes when my phone rang.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey. Where were you?” He sounded irritated. “I was getting worried.”

  “Sorry. I was in the kitchen being psycho-analyzed by Kate.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Hi.”

  He chuckled. “How are you?”

  “Pretty miserable. You?”

  “The same. Only a few more hours.”

  “Sixteen, approximately,” I amended.

  He laughed. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you more.”

  “Have you been sleeping?”

  I didn’t want to answer that particu
lar question.

  “Grace?”

  “Sorry. I’m here.” He sighed. “Honey, have you been sleeping?”

  “Um, well, not really, but I’m fine.”

  “Oh, Grace,” his voice was sad. “I’m alright, but I will be so much happier when you are home.”

  “I know. Me too.”

  I changed the subject by asking about his trip, if the clients liked his design. Of course they did. He laughed when I asked if he and Miles were going to visit Disney World, and then he yawned.

  “You’re tired,” I said. “I’ll let you go.”

  “Sorry about that. It’s just been a little busy and I hate hotel rooms.”

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “Yes you will, and I can’t wait.”

  “What time does your flight leave?”

  “I think it leaves at two-something. I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay.” “I love you, Grace Elizabeth.” “I love you, too. Sleep well.”

  He sighed, and I heard the sadness in his voice. “I would tell you to sleep well, but I know better.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “I know, I just wish there was something I could do.”

  I swallowed hard at the lump in my throat. “Come home. That’s what you can do.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I set the phone on my nightstand, and went back out to the kitchen to say good night to Kate. She was sitting on the sofa, talking with Miles on the phone, and motioned for me to sit beside her. I laid my head in her lap and she played with my hair.

  “Okay, I love you too.” She giggled. “I know. See you tomorrow.”

  She set the phone down and sighed. “I miss him.”

  “Me too,” I said. “Where’s Garrett?”

  “He called a little while ago,” she said. “He and Evan were meeting for pizza.”

  I felt my eyelids get heavy.

  “You need to sleep,” she said. “Do you want me to sleep in your room tonight?”

  “Thanks.” I yawned. “But I can’t expect everyone to change their lives around more than they already have just because I have nightmares like a two-year-old.”

  I didn’t have to see her face to know she rolled her eyes at me.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I woke up on the sofa, a quilt spread over me. It was after two in the morning and the room was dark except for the light in the hallway. I folded the quilt and draped it over the back of the sofa before going to the front door to make sure it was locked. I flipped on the porch light and looked over at the Anderson house. The porch light was on and their front door was open.

  I swallowed hard.

  Garrett’s Hummer was in the driveway, but he wouldn’t be awake and he definitely wouldn’t have left the front door open. My hands shook as I opened the door. Cold air hit me like a brick wall, stinging my skin through my sweats and tee shirt. The wind whistled loudly through the trees and sharp rocks dug into my bare feet as I made my way across the gravel drive. My legs felt heavy as I climbed the steps of the Andersons front porch.

  When I reached the door it became blurred. I rubbed my eyes roughly with the palms of my hands and pushed the door all the way open.

  “Garrett?” I slowly made my way through the entry and cleared my throat before calling his name again. “Garrett? Are you okay?”

  The house was eerily quiet. A single lamp lit the living room, the rest of the house dark. I looked around, feeling a little dizzy, a sheen of sweat forming on my forehead.

  My voice shook with fear. “It’s-it’s Gracie.” A sob pushed against my throat because something was wrong. I could feel it.

  A light came on in Garrett’s bedroom shining dimly in the darkened hallway, and my breath hitched.

  “Garrett?”

  Nausea and panic took over as I walked slowly toward the bedroom, dreading painfully what I was going to find. I wrung my hands together anxiously as I looked around the door into his room.

  Garrett was asleep. Sprawled across the bed on his stomach, the blankets in a tangle around his legs. The wide, dimpled grin on his face made me sigh in relief. I walked to his nightstand to turn off the lamp, when I felt something cold and wet under my feet.

  Confused, I looked closely. Garrett’s arm was draped off the side of the bed and something was dripped from his hand. I reached out to touch him. His fingers were cold, but his palms were warm and wet.

  Trembling, I turned his hand over. His palm was covered with blood. Then I noticed his face. Even with the grin, his lips were a sickly shade of blue, and his face an icy gray. I reached up to touch him with my fingertips and he was so cold.

  Tears came. “Please, Garrett. Please don’t do this. Open your eyes. Please.”

  My heart raced as I quickly pulled the covers away from his hulking figure. The sheets were nothing more than a pool of Garrett’s blood. It felt like something heavy pressed on my chest as I backed out of his room slowly, my breaths short and shallow.

  I knew he was dead.

  And I knew that Nina killed him.

  I shook my head as if I could erase what was in front of me, but all I could see was my best friend dead. My feet wouldn’t carry me out of the house fast enough. I cried out for Kate when I was finally outside, but the sound of my voice didn’t carry over the wind.

  The cold air stung my skin as I tried to make my way back home, desperately wanting to reach Kate. I could see my house, but it seemed so far away.

  “Kate!” I sobbed. “Kate!”

  Dizziness took over, and my stomach surged with the need to vomit. My legs seemed unable to hold my weight, and I fell. The gravel was like a dozen sharp knives against as my face scraped across the ground.

  “Gracie!”

  The taste of blood was on my tongue, and I tried to push myself up. I could hear my name being called. Arms came underneath me and I was being carried.

  “Garrett’s dead! He’s dead!” I wanted someone to hear me.

  The warmth of the house came over me and I was set on the sofa, but I continued to sob wishing someone would listen about Garrett.

  “He’s dead. Garrett’s gone,” I hiccoughed.

  “Gracie, it’s okay. Kate, she’s bleeding.”

  I opened my eyes and saw Garrett’s face. I sat up quickly, trying to make my brain catch up with what I was seeing.

  “It’s okay.” Garrett leaned over me, his eyes full of distress as he tried to soothe me. “Gracie, it’s okay. I’m here.”

  I moved my hands frantically over his chest and then his arms, searching for blood.

  “You were hurt.” I saw blood streaked across his shirt, and my body shuddered. “You’re bleeding! She hurt you! I hate her! I hate her!”

  “I’m fine!” Garrett was shaking me. “This is your blood! You fell!”

  He wiped at his own tears roughly, and I shook my head trying to dispel the memory of him lying dead in his own blood. I covered my face and sobbed as reality confronted me.

  The whole thing was a dream. I was embarrassed. Embarrassed and relieved Garrett was alive. I heard him heave a sigh as he pulled me onto his lap, and cradled me against him tightly.

  “I’m so sorry,” I cried. “I’m sorry.”

  I turned my head against Garrett’s chest and tried to slow my breathing, feeling relief wash over me because he was safe.

  “Gracie,” Garrett said quietly. “You’re bleeding. Kate needs to check the cuts on your face.”

  He set me on the couch and Kate kneeled in front of me, sniffling as she took a wet cloth and blotted the left side of my face. She shook her head sadly as she saturated a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide and dabbed gently at the cuts I was now starting to feel.

  “They aren’t deep,” she said. “Let me see your hands, Gracie.”

  I held my hands out in front of me and saw the shallow scrapes on my palms. Kate took the cloth again and started the same routine she’d just finished on my face. I turned to Garrett, a
nd he watched me with his eyebrows knitted together. Sadness and worry etched in his face.

  “I thought I was awake,” I tried to explain to him. “I fell asleep on the sofa, but then I woke up.”

  He nodded, waiting for me to continue.

  “Your front door was open.” I swallowed hard. “I was worried, so I went over to check on you. When I called your name you didn’t answer.” I looked down at my hands, now folded in my lap. Kate kneeled in front of me, listening as I recounted the nightmare.

  “I saw a light on in your room so I went to check.” I took in a ragged breath. “You were asleep…and you were…smiling. But then…” I squeezed my eyes shut, “I saw how pale you were. I touched you and you were so cold and then I pulled the covers back.”

  Everything was so vividly clear and terrifying.

  “There was so much blood.” I felt a surge of anger go through me. “I knew you were dead, and I knew she killed you.”

  The cuts on my hands stung as I tightened them into fists.

  “I hate her,” I said. “I hate her.”

  Kate cried as Garrett wrapped his giant arms around me and pulled me to him.

  “Gracie, I’m so sorry,” he murmured against my hair.

  “They have to catch her.” I clung to his shirt, and continued to tremble.“If she hurts one of you—”

  “They’ll find her, Gracie,” he assured me. “She can’t hide forever.”

  I tried to take comfort in his words, but they offered none. When I closed my eyes I still saw him in a pool of his own blood, and I hated her. I’d never used the word ‘hate’ when I talked about someone, and I despised her even more for making me feel that much hatred. It was like some kind of sick circle with no end and no beginning. Everything I felt at that moment; the sadness, the nausea, the exhaustion, the hatred, was because of Nina Sandler. And I hated her for it.

  “You’re so exhausted,” Kate said.

  I heard the worry in her voice and she was right, but there was no way I would sleep now.

  No way.

  Garrett gave me a squeeze. “Come on, Gracie.”

  He stood from the couch, bringing me with him, and kept his arm around my shoulders as we walked to my room. Kate turned on my stereo, took the throw-pillows from my bed and pulled the blankets back.