Falling for Grace

by Robert Farrell Smith

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t be more sure.”

  “Like, halfway empty?” I tried to verify.

  “Completely empty,” Leonard said squarely. “I knew Noah would be busy with this auction tonight, so I snuck into the warehouse to see if I could find anything on him. I found something all right. Nothing.”

  “I can’t believe this,” I mumbled.

  “It’s true,” Leonard insisted. “And now he’s got that skinny kid’s nine thousand dollars. You have to do something about this, Trust.”

  “What can I do?” I said, turning to find Leonard gone. I thought maybe he had quickly jumped up so as to get out before he was noticed. Then I spotted him over by one of the serving tables picking at food that was covered and set there to feed the winning bidders later tonight.

  I looked up at Noah Taylor on the walkway. He was blabbing about how Doran’s nine thousand dollars was going to help a lot of folks get prepared. He was also going on and on about how surprised everyone was going to be when they saw how well he had organized their food storage for them.

  I couldn’t just sit there. I stood up and tried to say what I had to in the most tactful and unsensational way possible: “Noah Taylor is a big fat liar, and I can prove it!”

  Everyone turned to stare at me in disbelief.

  “The warehouse is empty,” I said, hoping that someone would believe me.

  “Brother Williams,” Noah said, looking hurt. “I know that you and I have had our differences, but is this really necessary?”

  “The warehouse is empty,” was all that I said.

  “Is this true?” Bishop Leen asked Noah.

  “Of course not,” Noah scoffed. “I’m afraid Brother Williams here is just a little sore about losing his date tonight.”

  A couple of people laughed, but most folks were more willing to hear me out than I had anticipated. Grace looked at me with angry green eyes. She seemed to say, I can’t believe that you would bring this up now and in front of all these people since there is no possible way that you could actually know what you are saying because you’ve never even been inside of Noah’s warehouse, so I’m figuring that this is just some last-ditch effort to make Noah look bad.

  Her eyes were far more expressive than mine.

  “Listen,” Bishop Leen said. “I’m not sure that this is the time or place to be making such accusations.”

  “If I’ve been paying Noah for nothing,” Brother Treat yelled, “then this is the perfect place to make those accusations.”

  “Someone’s been in the warehouse and seen if it’s full, haven’t they?” Brother O’Shawn asked in a panic.

  Nobody responded.

  “Grace?” the bishop inquired. “You work there. You’ve seen all the food and supplies.”

  “Actually,” Grace said, uncomfortable about being put in such a spot. “I work in the front office. I’ve not been into the warehouse. Noah keeps it locked. But I have seen trucks coming and going.”

  Everyone began to holler and stamp their feet. Noah Taylor held up his hands.

  “Listen, everybody,” he yelled. “Your food is all there.”

  “Prove it!” someone screamed.

  “Right now?” Noah asked. “What about the auction?” he whined.

  “Right now!” Sally Wheatfield hollered, sensing a chance to get out of sitting next to Brother McLaughlin the rest of the night.

  The whole body of Saints began filing out of the building, running swiftly to their cars. I found Grace and pulled her to the side.

  “Trust, this is ridiculous,” she said above the rush of excited members. “Noah’s not a crook.”

  “We’ll see,” I replied, happy that everyone had taken me seriously. “Let’s go and check if it’s empty.”

  “I thought you knew already?” Grace questioned.

  “Not firsthand.”

  As we were shoving our way out of the cultural hall and into the parking lot, Doran grabbed my arm.

  “Trust,” he said with great animation. “Could I get a ride with you?”

  “Where’s your truck?” I asked, slowing just a bit.

  “I sold it.”

  “You—”

  “Sold it,” he said curtly.

  “What for?” I asked, the answer coming to me as I spoke. “For nine thousand dollars!”

  Grace was shocked. “You sold your truck to have dinner with me?” she said, sounding more flattered than I felt was necessary.

  “Grace, I had this dream, and—” Doran began to say, but before he could get it all out Sister Cravitz knocked him down making a beeline for her car.

  “Let’s just go,” I insisted.

  Grace and I got into my car and Doran followed. We followed the stream of vehicles up Frost Road and over to the warehouse. Everyone got out and surrounded the building’s entrance. One after another people tried the front door to see if it would open, working themselves into an angry mob.

  “Where’s Noah?” someone hollered.

  “There he is,” someone else screamed.

  Noah was pulled and pushed through the crowd until he was finally standing in front of the door. He fumbled with his keys, trying to tell everyone to calm down.

  It was too late for that.

  The moment the door swung open, people crunched and shoved to get inside. The front offices were packed in no time. Once again Noah groped desperately for the right key that would open the door to the warehouse.

  “Hurry up!” Brother Lewis demanded.

  “Listen,” Noah tried. “This is all one big mistake.”

  “Open the door,” everyone yelled.

  Noah found the key and unlocked the door. The crowd moved though the small door and into the huge warehouse with one big surge. Someone flipped on a light. We all just stood there staring, slack-jawed, wide-eyed.

  I was in big trouble.

  The walls were lined with food and supplies. Mountains of cans rolled throughout the warehouse like sand dunes of self-reliance. Boxes of wheat and grain and noodles and vitamins and so on flooded the floor, leaving us neck deep in emergency preparedness. There were little signs labeling what was whose and how much each had purchased. Labels and canisters sparkled under the long fluorescent lights which were blinking as if the glow had just awakened them.

  I was dumbfounded—and found to be dumb.

  Every eye turned to me. When I said nothing, Noah spoke for me.

  “I’ve kept this room locked off because I wanted this all to be a surprise. I didn’t think anyone would challenge my honesty.”

  I guess I was anyone.

  “Trust,” Bishop Leen said in his gruffest voice. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I . . .” I looked around at all the angry faces. “Leonard Vastly did it,” I said, folding like a spineless jellyfish with a weak threshold for pain. “He said the place was empty.”

  “Leonard Vastly’s locked up in his own house, everybody knows that.” The bishop hung his head out of shame for me. “I hope you’re happy, Trust.”

  I wasn’t.

  “Listen, let’s not let this ruin our whole evening,” Noah said graciously. “If we hurry back to the church, we may still be able to salvage some of tonight’s festivities. People paid, after all. And the food’s still there.”

  Everyone began to walk out past me. If I had any doubts about how people felt, they were quickly dispelled by the comments thrown as they walked by: “What has Noah ever done to you?” “I can’t believe you would do this.” “Your mother will be ashamed . . .”

  I offered weak apologies to each of them, but it did no good. Grace looked at me as if I were someone with an embarrassing tattoo on his forehead.

  “Grace, you have to believe me,” I tried. “Leonard said it was empty.”

  Doran stuck out his arm for Grace to take hold. She looked at me. She looked at Doran. She looked over at Noah. She took Doran’s arm and the two of them walked off together. Gra
ce looked back and sighed. I guess they were going to find a different ride back.

  I was now all alone except for Noah. He glanced around to make sure no one was within listening distance and then said, “Trust, you really are a piece of work.”

  I held my tongue.

  “It’s been fun messing with your head, but this time you saved me the trouble.” Noah smiled meanly. “I’ll almost miss you when I’m gone.”

  I walked out toward the parking lot, making an effort to ignore him. Most people were already pulling away, heading back over to the church. Noah locked up the building with his keys, got into his shiny little car, and waved sarcastically as he drove off. I got into my car and started it up. I looked in the rearview mirror to back up, and there was Leonard’s face, staring back at me.

  “Leonard!” I scolded, “you’ve got to stop sneaking up on me this way!”

  “Sorry,” he said. “But how’d it go?”

  “How’d it go?” I asked incredulously. “How’d it go? The place is loaded with food.”

  “I was afraid it might be,” Leonard said abashedly.

  “I thought you said it was empty!”

  “I thought Noah’s warehouse was the one over on Pine Street. When everyone pulled up here, I realized my mistake.”

  I banged my head against the steering wheel and moaned.

  “What?” he asked innocently.

  I looked at him full on in my rearview mirror. He still had on the pink hood and the exaggerated makeup. He looked so stupid in his getup that I suddenly felt pity for him. I decided not to take the discussion any further.

  “Do you need a ride home?” I asked dejectedly.

  “Sure.” Leonard smiled. “But drop me off at that park near my place. I wouldn’t want anyone to see me coming and going from the Bio-Doom.”

  Leonard Vastly was one curious individual.

  We passed the church on our way home. I could see shadows in the cultural hall windows mingling about. The steeple was lit and cars were in the parking lot. I felt confident that had I rolled down my window I would be able to hear the sound of laughter coming from the building, but I left my window shut. I was also pretty certain about what they would be laughing over and I didn’t want to hear.

  “So, do you think the auction’s going all right?” Leonard asked, taking off his hood and primping his hair with both hands.

  I had enough to think about it.

  32

  Fries Like Us

  My night was ruined. After dropping Leonard off I drove back over to the church in hopes that it had caught fire and the group date had been forced to be cut short. I had the worst luck.

  The chapel was just fine. In fact, it seemed to be inappropriately dark.

  I drove home slowly, thinking about Grace, steaming over Noah, stewing about Doran, and wishing Leonard had not decided to make perfume an integral part of his most recent disguise. I rolled down the car window and stuck out my head in the hope of getting some fresh air. The wind whipped around me, cooling my still-uneven haircut. As I pulled up to my house, I noticed a red car parked at the curb. There was a blond head decorating the front porch. I retracted my noggin and turned off the engine. I stepped out and faced the music.

  It was Lucy Fall.

  She stood there in a black sweater and faded jeans. Her blond hair under the porch lights made her look angelic. She was smiling at me. She was laughing. I thought perhaps that she was just really happy to see me. It turns out, however, that she was just reacting to my windblown hair. I smoothed it down and caught myself trying to act cooler than I actually was. Despite all that life had led me through in the last few years, Lucy’s effect on me was still just as strong.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked as we stood on the porch.

  “I just got here,” she said, brushing a still-standing piece of my hair down. “I’ve been trying to call you for a while now, but you’re never home.”

  “Really?” I asked with far too much enthusiasm.

  “I was wondering if . . .” Lucy paused as a car drove past. “Do you think we could go somewhere to talk?”

  “Margaret’s inside,” I nodded toward the front door of my house.

  “Are you hungry?” Lucy asked.

  “A little, why?”

  “We could get something to eat,” Lucy said seductively.

  Okay, it wasn’t at all seductive. In fact, she probably used the exact same inflection and flare when asking the price of dish soap at the supermarket. But for some reason the air between Lucy’s lips and my ears had always been against me. It was as if her words were warped and manipulated to make my mind go crazy.

  “Eat?” I asked, unable to tackle more than one word at a time.

  “Just a quick bite.”

  There she goes again.

  “Well . . .” I hesitated.

  “I need to ask you something, Trust,” she seemed to plead, a sense of nervousness appearing for the first time in our conversation.

  Normally, I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea. Grace was so much more than Lucy could ever hope to be. Sure Lucy had this effect thing going, but it was all just smoke and mirrors. Grace’s hold on my heart was no illusion. But truth be known, I was more than a little sore about Grace not believing me, and then skipping off to spend the evening with someone who threw cash around like it was lawn fertilizer. I mean, if she was on a sort of date, then what harm would it do for me to do the same?

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Where should we go?”

  Lucy took my arm and led me to her car. We drove over to a small diner called Nick’s Pit. We sat down at what felt like far too cozy a booth and pretended we were adult enough that this situation didn’t faze us. Lucy was far more convincing than I.

  I was just beginning to enjoy myself when a beautiful redhead came into the diner, hooked onto the arm of a tall thin-haired guy.

  Apparently the intimate ambivalence of a packed cultural hall was not good enough for Doran and Grace. I waited for the rest of the ward to come in after them.

  They never did. The two of them were alone!

  I would have been completely disgusted if it had not been for the fact that I was sort of in the same spot. Regardless, Grace and Doran had shifted from a group date in an open place to a cozy meal in the most secluded corner of Nick’s Pit. And I couldn’t decide if I should stamp over to them in self-righteous indignation, or try and sneak out the back door.

  Lucy noticed the storm in my eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked, unable to see who had come in from where she was sitting.

  “Nothing,” I said abruptly.

  The waiter brought our food. I found myself peering through the bush partitions between tables, over at Grace. I swirled my fork through my meal and tried to fake interest in the things Lucy was saying. I must have been somewhat convincing, judging at least from the fact that Lucy kept on talking.

  Images pushed and scattered through my mind like a theater crowd at the cry of fire. Now that I thought about it, Grace had never said straight out that she didn’t have feelings for Doran. I mean, it’s possible she had just been stringing us both along. Maybe this last little while had simply been a time of sifting for Grace. Sure, Doran wasn’t exactly what I would call “dishy,” but I suppose in a sort of “I just got done plowing the north fields and I’m looking for a soap strong enough to clean me up” type of way, he was okay. Maybe Grace preferred that. She did hail from a rather small town. That was it. All those years of living in Thelma’s Way had made her go for tall gangly guys who chewed on toothpicks and were intimately acquainted with gun racks. She was probably just sort of teetering on the line between choosing Doran or choosing me and the nine thousand dollars had tipped her over.

  “Trust, are you all right?” Lucy asked again, pulling me back to my meal. I gazed across the diner at Grace. She was sitting closer to Doran than she absolutely had to. In fact, a real gentleman would have asked the waiter to put a chair on the end of th
e booth so as to eliminate the possibility of accidental footsies.

  Lucy’s shoe brushed my ankle as she shifted.

  “Sorry,” she said, blushing.

  Need I say more?

  I took a bite of my meal and uh-huhhed at Lucy’s latest remark.

  Grace was laughing. Things were worse than I thought. Doran had a speck of sauce on his cheek and Grace brushed it off with her fingers. I couldn’t believe it. I remembered Grace comparing Doran to Leo Tip from Thelma’s Way. She had said they seemed so similar. But wasn’t it Leo that the entire town had thought, although wrongly, Grace was sweet on? Maybe subconsciously she had felt sorry for letting everyone down with Leo, and liking Doran was a way to put things right.

  That was it. It all seemed so clear.

  Lucy asked if she could have one of my fries.

  “Go ahead,” I answered, as if nothing now mattered.

  I watched Doran slyly spill his water, causing Grace to have to dab his table setting and shirt with her napkin. It was obvious that I had played Doran for a far bigger fool than he actually was. The old spill and dab was a brilliantly devious trick.

  Our male waiter came to our table and asked if everything was all right.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  Then he took a long look at Lucy and left.

  Lucy kept talking for a minute and then stopped.

  “Trust, you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?” she asked.

  “If that’s what you want,” I replied, looking past her at Doran who tenderly split a breadstick with Grace and then scooted at least an eighth of an inch closer to her. The nerve of that guy.

  “Would you rather just leave?” Lucy asked.

  “Isn’t it the truth?” I fidgeted.

  Suddenly Lucy sounded hurt. “Trust, I thought you would help,” she cried. “Here I am pouring my heart out to you and all you can do is keep staring at that bush?!” She reached up and brushed her tears away indignantly.

  She was making a scene. People all over the restaurant were starting to notice.

  I panicked, not wanting Grace to see me here with Lucy.

  I quickly slipped to the other side of the bench and put my arm around her, hoping to quiet her down. But it only seemed to make things worse. She sobbed without holding back. “There, there,” I said. “Shhhh . . .”