by Mary Carter
“No problem,” Grace sang out. Grace continued on, but stopped a few feet later and turned around again. The woman had stopped too, and was watching Grace and Jake leave.
Grace slipped her hand into Jake’s and whispered in his ear. “I think she likes you.”
Jake squeezed her hand. “Or maybe she likes you,” he said in a tone that suggested it wouldn’t bother him in the least.
Carrie Ann couldn’t believe someone could actually stomp through the sand, but when she announced she wasn’t staying after all, Rafael sure managed to pull it off.
“They’ll probably be back,” he said. “We should stay.”
“They won’t be back.”
“But we just got here.”
“You can stay.”
“I wanted to lie next to you on the beach.”
No, you just wanted everyone to see you lying next to me. “We wouldn’t have missed them if you hadn’t spent so much time shaving your back.”
“I wasn’t shaving my back.”
“I saw you.”
“You are spying on me?” Rafael grabbed her wrist, and when she whirled around, she saw a huge grin plastered on his face. Carrie Ann glared at him, and he dropped her wrist. He stumbled back, ran his hand through his thick hair. He had hair everywhere. Another reason Carrie Ann wasn’t attracted to him. “Why didn’t you just talk to her? Why bump into her and then say nothing?”
“It’s none of your business.” Carrie Ann picked up the pace. She wished Rafael would just go back to the beach. Why was he following her home?
“If it’s none of my business then why am I helping you?”
You’re not helping me; you’re helping him. “I don’t know. Why are you?”
Rafael grabbed her hand and squeezed it. Carrie Ann pulled away. “Maybe it is because you are so beautiful. And feisty. I like feisty.”
“And maybe it’s because you are getting paid. To keep your eyes on me. Not your paws.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t tell,” Rafael said.
“Oh, I’d tell all right. So don’t even think about it.”
“How do you know this Grace?”
“You’re not paid to ask questions.”
“It is not much money, this pay. And you are staying in my home. So are your friends.”
“And I appreciate it, Rafael. Thank you.”
“Why don’t we just take her right now?”
Carrie Ann felt a little jolt. Was he not on the same page? Ignorance was dangerous. “Take her? What do you mean, take her?”
“That is the plan.”
She wanted to throttle him. His stupidity was going to cost her everything. “No.” She didn’t want to shout at him, but she had to set things straight. “We are going to take me. Not her. Me. That is the plan.” God, he was dense! They never should have enlisted him.
“I don’t understand what is the plan.”
Carrie Ann squared her shoulders and stepped closer to Rafael. “You’re not to talk to her. Or even look at her anymore. Got it? That’s the plan. Stick to it.”
“It’s all right if that means I get to stick to you.”
“Gross,” Carrie Ann muttered under her breath. But she was glad he was dropping the subject of Grace so quickly.
“If I were your boyfriend, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for one single second.”
“That would make you a kidnapper.”
“Ah, but I would be so nice to my captive. I would feed you wine and cheese. You would love it.” He grabbed her hand again and tried to bring it up to his lips.
“Let go or I’ll scream.”
“Scream? Why do you say such things?”
“I do not like your hanging all over me.”
“You are not any fun. You are—how do they say—party pooping.”
“You’re on your own, Wolfman,” Carrie Ann said. She thrust the pile of beach things at him, and Rafael stumbled back as he tried to juggle them all.
“No, no, no,” Rafael said. “Where I go, you go—remember?”
“It’s supposed to be ‘Where I go, you go,’ and I am not going to the beach.”
“You are upset about your friend.”
Maybe he wasn’t as shallow as she had first thought. Maybe she’d have to be a little more careful what she said and did around him. “Maybe a little.”
“Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No. A hundred billion times no. Promise me you won’t.” He’d probably already freaked Grace out with that ridiculous costume. The last thing Carrie Ann needed was Rafael inserting himself on the scene.
“I promise if you come back to the beach.”
Carrie Ann tried to smile. It wasn’t easy. She just wanted to get rid of Grace’s boyfriend and take her hands and jump and shout, “It’s me! I’m here!”
Jake was even better looking than Carrie Ann had expected. From the looks of things they were headed back to have vacation sex. So strange. Little Grace. Having sex. Holding hands with a boy even. Singing country songs. She even had her own little following. She wasn’t a child anymore. Walked right by Carrie Ann without recognizing her.
“Are you sure the microphones are in place?” Carrie Ann asked.
“Sí, sí. We will be able to hear everything they say.”
“Okay, good.”
“And do,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
Pervert. She wasn’t going to let him listen to any of it. “Thirty minutes, no more. I don’t want wrinkles,” Carrie Ann said.
“Deal.” Rafael shouted it at the sky, as if he’d just made a bargain with God himself. Carrie Ann couldn’t help but laugh. Hairy, yes, but still somewhat charming for a psycho. This time when Rafael forged ahead looking for the perfect spot, Carrie Ann followed.
She did, however, keep looking over her shoulder, wondering step for step where Grace was now. She was so near. Walked by Carrie Ann without so much as a second glance. Carrie Ann had expected more. Hell, she deserved more. She had always thought there was some kind of unbreakable bond between them. She would have bet her life on it. No matter how many years had passed, they should know each other like they knew their own shadows. If the roles had been reversed, Carrie Ann knew she would have recognized Grace. She would have felt her. God. Carrie Ann had really thought her foster-sister—slash blood-sister—would have recognized her. But Grace didn’t even blink. Not one little flick of an eyelash. Huh. Carrie Ann was surprised at how much that hurt. Maybe Grace did recognize her and didn’t want to see her. No, that wasn’t possible. Grace was just too enamored with lover boy. It wasn’t right. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. Lovers were temporary. But sisters—how did the old saying go? Sisters were sisters from cradle to grave. Somebody, Carrie Ann thought, should have remembered that.
CHAPTER 8
Grace followed up their day of sloth by rising before the sun. She made coffee, retrieved her Barcelona guidebook, and sat at the counter with a highlighter. “Oh no,” she heard Jake say. “Not the guidebook.” Priceless given that he was in the other room. How long had he been lying there waiting to say it? Grace laughed. He’d appreciate her organizational skills when they started hitting the sites.
“You had your lazy day, animal man,” Grace called out. “We’re sightseeing today.”
“But not until noon, right? Spain comes to life at night, babe. Right after a long siesta. Don’t forget to pencil in our siesta.”
“I was thinking Casa Batlló,” Grace said. Antoni Gaudí’s house was high on her list. She loved all the pictures of the modernist façade. Balconies with masked faces, endless curved walls, glittering mosaic tiles, spirals, and mini-domes stretching above an expansive rooftop terrace. The back of the house was supposed to be patterned after a dragon’s spine. Located along Passeig de Gràcia, Grace’s first pick wasn’t far from La Rambla. There were also plenty of shops nearby, so they could sneak in some of that as well. Even though he’d never admit it, Jake loved clothes shopping almost as much a
s she did. Then, after touring the house they could stop in at La Boqueria, pick up some tasty morsels for lunch, and head back to the apartment. Siesta, then dinner, and maybe even a little dancing. It sure was generous of someone to pay for their flights and living expenses. Unless he or she wants something.
Jake’s words came back to her as she poured two cups of coffee. He was right. Most people they knew could barely afford their own vacations, let alone pay for someone else’s. And why hadn’t the “surprise” been revealed yet? They should have been informed the minute they checked into the apartment. It wasn’t fair to keep people waiting until the very last second. What if Grace and Jake missed the wedding because they were off sightseeing?
They were going to have to stick with their earlier conviction. It was hardly their problem. Grace didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but they were here and they were going to sightsee. If an invitation was coming, it had better come soon. Grace figured tomorrow they would go to the Dalí and Miró museums, and if Jake was up to it, Park Güell. The next day would be reserved for the Sagrada Família. And music. Grace wanted to check out the little jazz clubs and tango places she’d read about. Even though she sang country, Grace loved all kinds of music. She never understood why so many people limited themselves. It was as if it were against the law to like country, and classical, and jazz, and hip-hop, and rock and roll. She loved it all. Too bad she was done playing and singing it herself. Every time she even thought of playing she broke out in a cold sweat.
She brought Jake’s coffee cup to his bedside and set it on the little table. He was already back asleep and lightly snoring. Grace loved that sound. She wanted to kiss his head, but she didn’t want to wake him. The coffee might be cold by the time he woke up, but he’d appreciate the gesture nonetheless. There were no clocks in the apartment. He had all the shades down. It was seven a.m. The Gaudí house opened at nine. La Boqueria, nine-thirty. Some of the cafés might be open, but then again, maybe not just yet. Jake was right. She was starting too early. But she was wide-awake, dressed, and showered. Maybe she’d take her cup of coffee outside and wander around. That’s it; she’d go back to the town square. She could relax there, enjoy her coffee, watch pigeons. She’d probably be back before Jake woke up again.
It was odd to see the lobby empty of the non-door-opening doorman. Did she expect he’d be sleeping there? She was just about to exit when she noticed a book lying on the desk. Curiosity drove her to go near it. She always had to know what people were reading, or listening to. She hadn’t pegged the desk guy as a reader. Of course someone else could have left it. She reached for it before she even registered the title.
A TREE GROWS IN BROOKLYN
Grace stood still and stared at the book as if it might make a sudden move, strike out like a snake. It was so random, so wild. Her all-time favorite book. One of Grace’s presents for her twelfth birthday. Grace had carried that book around so much that summer she had almost ruined it. It went in the bathtub, the car, under her pillow. She ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner with it clutched in her hand. What was it about a story about a girl living in Brooklyn that touched her all the way in Tennessee? Ironically, Grace used to read it in her tree house. What were the odds that the book would be right here, in the lobby in Barcelona?
Grace stared at the book, almost afraid to touch it. Obviously, it was a famous novel. And this building catered to tourists. Another American, maybe even a young girl, must have brought the book with her to Barcelona, and was leaving it for someone else to read. How could anyone abandon this book though? Although with the invention of eBooks, paperbacks were hardly cherished anymore. Grace picked up the book and hugged it to her chest. Well, she’d take it. Or was that selfish? Should she leave it for someone who’d never had the chance to read it?
No, it was meant for her. One of life’s little surprises, or happy ironies. Since she didn’t have her purse, she tucked the book under her armpit and headed outside.
It was a mild morning, still warm but a lull before the brutal heat of the day. As predicted, the square was quiet. The benches were empty, and the small fountain in the middle was indeed occupied by pigeons. A single shopkeeper was sweeping outside. It was a pizza place at night, but they served breakfast, and most important to Grace, cappuccinos. She wished she hadn’t brought her coffee, but even so, she had left her money in the room. She couldn’t win. Either she had too much with her, or not enough. Maybe in the future, all financial transactions would be completed through some kind of microchip implanted in one’s finger. Grace would be drinking an espresso by now.
Grace sat on a bench and set the book next to her. She took in a few deep breaths and gazed at all the apartments above her. Several had clothing hanging out the windows, one a potted plant, and Grace could make out curtains or blinds on most as well. Jake was right. Everyone was sleeping. She was surprised there were no homeless people sleeping in the square. It was where she would go if she were homeless. She sipped her coffee, stretched out on the bench, and picked up the book. How great was this, to sit and read her favorite book in a square in Spain. Maybe there was a song in there somewhere.
There was a square in Spain
Where you can feel no pain
You can read your book
Without a single look....
Marsh Everett would hate it. So what. Grace opened her book. It wasn’t as beat-up as her original copy, but it was old. She flipped through the first few pages, curious if anyone had signed his or her name. She used to always sign her books. THIS BOOK BELONGS TO: GRACE ANN SAWYER. She always had to write out her full name because her initials spelled GAS. Her parents definitely didn’t think that one through. Sure enough, she caught handwriting as she flipped through. Instead of a name, there was simply a quote:
THERE, BUT FOR GRACE, GO I
Grace immediately righted herself from her sprawled position on the bench, as if sitting at attention would clarify the mystery. The message was written in capital letters in black ink. What was this? Grace knew what quote was being paraphrased. There, but for the grace of God, go I. This had to be some kind of joke. Was it from whoever had paid for their trip? Were they going to leave Grace and Jake little clues until they figured out who the mysterious couple was? Grace wanted to drop the book, but she couldn’t seem to let it go. She looked around the square. Breathe. Sit up. Think of everyone who might know this was her favorite book.
Her parents, of course. But they certainly had nothing to do with this trip. It would be sweet as hell if they were renewing their vows, but it just wasn’t possible. Not with her mother’s condition. Jody had probably forgotten a dozen times where Grace was, let alone who she was.
Then there was Dan. He didn’t know this was Grace’s favorite book, but he could at least tell them something about the person who had called him. Grace wondered if Jake had tried calling Dan again, or if he’d called back. Darn the time change. Grace wanted to call him right now, but she was pretty sure it was like three a.m. in Tennessee.
Who else knew about this book? Had she mentioned it in any interviews or on her Facebook page? She had. She’d mentioned it on her Facebook page. It was on her “About” page. You had to go looking for it, but it was there.
So much for relaxing. Grace would drive herself crazy going through this alone. She needed to get Jake’s take on it. The shopkeeper waved at her as she passed by.
“Hola,” he said. “Good morning.”
“Hola.” She waved back, really wishing she could go in and buy an espresso. Next time. That was the great thing about life. Every day was a do-over. She hurried back to the apartment, half looking behind her every few steps. She was being ridiculous. Whoever was surprising them had thought this through. They would all laugh at the fact that it was spooking her a little. There, But For Grace, Go I. . . .
Wait. Was it someone who had a crush on Jake? Oh, God. But they were getting married, right? So maybe this was kind of tongue in cheek—I never would have fallen in love with my hu
sband if you hadn’t been with Jake—
Jake was going to have to come clean. He probably knew exactly how many women had crushes on him. There were probably a lot. Was this one a psycho? Or just trying to be funny? Well, it wasn’t funny. Free trip or no, it was just plain dense to freak someone out like this. At least they left the book on the desk downstairs and not at her doorstep. Still, Grace found herself hurrying past the desk and up the stairs, ready to scream if anyone was following her. She fumbled with the key. God, she was shaking. Jake would calm her down. She closed the door a little harder than she meant to. It slammed shut. She was still trembling when she locked it.
“Grace?” Jake emerged from the bedroom in his boxers. She loved how his hair stuck straight up in the mornings. Grace held the book up. Jake just looked at it and waited. It didn’t register with him. But now of all times was not the time to get her feelings hurt over the fact that he couldn’t remember the name of her favorite book.
“Someone left this for me at the desk,” Grace said.
“What desk?”
“In the lobby.” Grace opened to the page and showed it to Jake. He read it aloud. “Start talking, Jake,” Grace said.
“What?”
“Someone at work, or one of your clients, or God knows who else—someone is in love with you. That’s who lured us here.”
“Wait, wait.” Jake headed for the stool at the counter and sat down. Grace followed. “Lured us here?”
“Yes. Someone is in love with you, and she lured us here to get rid of me so she could have you all to herself.”
“Flattering.”
“Jake.”
“I’m kidding. Relax. Besides, it’s your favorite book. Why do you think this has anything to do with me?”
Grace opened up to the page with the writing. “There, but for Grace, go I,” she read.
“Weird. Let me see that.” Jake took the book, read it again, shook his head.
