Falling for Grace

by Robert Farrell Smith

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Grace with Doran. It didn’t look like they had noticed all the hubbub. Doran was saying something with great animation. He was pulling his wallet out and fishing through it for money. He threw some of it onto the table and the two of them stood up to go.

  Lucy pressed her palms against her eyes and continued to unravel. I leaned my head in close and tried to calm her. At the same time, I tracked Grace with the corner of my eye like a laser beam as she and Doran reached the exit. Doran pulled open the door for her. Somehow, they had not yet noticed me and Lucy. It seemed like the whole rest of the restaurant was staring in our direction. But as Grace started to step out into the night, Lucy wailed. Like a spigot with a busted nozzle, she bubbled forth with force and volume.

  Grace paused.

  She turned slowly, her green eyes locking onto my blue. She saw me sitting there with my arm around Lucy and my head on her shoulder, looking as if I had just been caught with both my hands deep in some grand cookie jar that the heavens themselves had forbidden me to snack from.

  Grace’s eyes darkened as if in mourning. I tried to tell her that this wasn’t what she thought, but the words didn’t come. Doran noticed us too. He shook his head and pulled Grace from the building as if he were a cop removing her from some gruesome crime scene.

  The doors swung shut. Grace was gone.

  I thought about running after them, but I was worried about leaving my heart on the floor where it was now lying. Plus, Lucy was really in distress. I couldn’t just leave her there alone. I weakly smiled at her, trying hard to appear put together.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you’re going through a lot. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening.”

  She waved it away, embarrassed over everything she had been through.

  “I’ll be all right,” she said bravely. “It’s not your fault my life’s a wreck.”

  I asked our waiter for a to-go box, and helped Lucy out to her car. It took some effort, seeing how I wasn’t exactly in any wonderful emotional state myself. When we reached my house, Lucy insisted she would be all right, so I got out.

  She drove off slowly.

  I watched out my window until 1:30 in the morning, but Grace never came home. It was obvious to me that catching me with Lucy had persuaded her to give even more serious consideration to Doran. It seemed like a good time to take up swearing. But since there was no one around to swear to, I resisted the temptation and fell into a restless sleep instead.

  33

  Assume

  December 10th

  I woke up early the next morning. I wanted to make sure that there was no way I could miss Grace coming out of Wendy’s house. Giving little thought to personal appearance, I ran downstairs in my shorts and T-shirt. I went out front and sat on the porch, watching and willing Grace to emerge. My powers were weak. Actually, pathetic was a far better description. Instead of Grace emerging, I conjured up Doran walking down the street. He cut across our December lawn and stepped boldly up to me, claiming that he had something important to ask me. I would have responded with a few questions of my own, but as if it had been previously orchestrated, Grace stepped out of Wendy’s front door and walked across the yard to join us. She looked radiant in the morning light, but her eyes were still dark. I wanted to feel for her, but my own insides were rapidly bruising.

  “Grace, I . . .” I started to explain.

  “Trust,” she interrupted, “I need to tell you something before I go to work.” Whatever it was, it was obvious that she wouldn’t be comfortable saying it.

  “Doran,” Grace greeted him.

  “Grace,” he replied sweetly, “I’m glad you’re here, seeing how what I came to say involves you and all.”

  This was it, and what a way to go. They had both come to break my heart in stereo. Grace took a deep breath as if she were about to dive into a deep pool when Lucy’s bright red car distracted us all by pulling into my driveway.

  “Is that Lucy?” Grace asked.

  “I think so,” I replied, as if it could possibly be someone else.

  Lucy stepped out of her car and walked up to the three of us.

  “Hello, Grace,” she offered.

  “Lucy,” Grace replied back.

  “Hello,” Doran said, offering his hand to Lucy. “I’m Doran.”

  “Nice to meet you.” She smiled.

  “So, now everybody knows each other,” I tried to joke. They all just stared at me like I was out of place. It could have been my outfit, seeing how they all were dressed nicely and I looked like someone who had just rolled out of a dirty clothes hamper.

  “So what are we all doing here?” I asked.

  “Don’t you remember?” Lucy sighed. “We sort of had a date.”

  “A date?” Grace asked.

  “Well, not a . . .” Lucy began to explain.

  “Actually, Trust,” Doran interrupted, “I feel I should speak my piece and get it over with.”

  I shrugged, not sure if I really wanted to hear what he had to say.

  “You see, last night—”

  “Maybe I should speak first,” Grace interrupted, touching Doran’s arm.

  Doran consented.

  “I can come back later if you want me to,” Lucy said, sensing that she might not be welcome.

  “That’s all right,” Grace said with a tinge of jealously. “I don’t want to ruin your early-morning date.”

  “Really, it’s not a date, it’s—”

  “So, you two are seriously dating?” Doran asked Lucy, finally catching on.

  “No.” Lucy hesitated. “We . . .”

  “That makes no difference.” Doran stood tall. “I have a couple things to say, and I’d best say them quickly.”

  “Maybe Lucy should speak first,” Grace considered.

  “I’m all right,” Lucy insisted.

  “I’d agree with you there,” Doran complimented her.

  “Thanks.” Lucy blushed as if she meant it.

  “I really do need to get to work,” Grace pointed out, hoping to speed things along and acting more bothered than I had ever seen her.

  “What I aim to say,” Doran spoke, “is that Grace and I . . . well . . . as you both know, we spent a little time together last night. And I wanted to let you know—”

  “Listen,” I said, holding up my hands, not wanting to hear what was coming. “I think that Grace and I should talk first. Alone.”

  “Really?” Grace’s eyes grew brighter. “What about?”

  “Trust,” Lucy interjected uncomfortably. “We can meet up later,” she said, taking a step back.

  “I didn’t know you were dating other people,” Grace said, ignoring Lucy and focusing in on me.

  “I’m not, I . . . what about you and Doran?” I helplessly flared. “I saw you two sitting there last night, laughing—sharing breadsticks.”

  “The electricity went out at the chapel,” Grace explained. “Sister Barns snipped the main wire while trying to find a way to dim the lights.”

  “Still,” I defended. “Splitting breadsticks?”

  “It was the last one,” Doran explained.

  “Besides,” Grace simmered, “what were you two doing there?”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “You can’t turn this around on me. Lucy lured me there. I can’t help it if she wants us to get back together.”

  “Get back together?” Lucy fumed.

  “There’s no need pretending,” I insisted.

  “Who’s pretending?” Lucy snipped. “I just wanted a blessing.”

  “What?” I asked. “What did you say?” Her words sounded so out of context that I almost didn’t understand them.

  “You told me you would give me a blessing this morning before I went looking for a job,” she said in disbelief.

  “I did?”

  “I knew you weren’t listening,” Lucy complained, her emotions surfacing again.

  Everyone glared at me.

  “Well, what abou
t this big marriage news that Doran has?” I tried desperately to change the subject. “Or the fact that you never came home last night, huh? What about that?”

  “Me?” Grace asked.

  “Yes, you. When I fell asleep at 1:30, you still weren’t there.”

  “I must have gotten back before you did,” Grace said in disbelief. “I went to bed early.”

  “Well,” I tried, “that sure is convenient.”

  “Trust,” Grace said kindly, her eyes now open to the reality of what a big misunderstanding this was. She smiled and once again said, “Trust.”

  “So what’s Doran’s big news then?” I said, making a last-ditch effort to take the focus off of me.

  “I just wanted to apologize,” Doran said. “I don’t want to marry Grace any longer. We set things straight last night, and I now know that she and I can never be. I was hoping you’d forgive me for everything I’ve done.”

  “Uh . . . sure.” I tried to be gracious.

  It was too little too late.

  “I’ll be leaving town in a few days,” Doran added. “I hope I haven’t ruined everything for you guys.”

  Doran nodded and turned. He had said all he was going to. He walked across our brown lawn and off down the street. I watched him for a moment and couldn’t help noticing that without his truck he looked like a fish out of water.

  “Maybe I’ll talk to you later, Trust,” Lucy said, placing great emphasis on the word “maybe.” She didn’t wait around for me to apologize or say anything else. She got into her car and drove away, leaving Grace and me alone on the porch.

  “So I guess I sort of blew it,” I sighed.

  “Yeah, you could say that.”

  “You think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

  “I’ll work on it,” she said. Then she added, “Marry Doran?” trying not to laugh.

  “Well,” I defended, “you thought I was capable of dating Lucy.”

  “You used to date her all the time,” Grace pointed out.

  “Well, Doran looks a little like Leo back in Thelma’s Way. And everyone used to think that you liked Leo and all. And I just . . .” I stopped speaking before I said anything else stupid.

  Grace smiled, more with her mouth than her eyes. “Trust, we’ve been through a lot together. How could you even think that there could be someone else for me?”

  “I don’t know,” I said lamely. “You’ve surprised me before.

  “When?” Grace insisted.

  “Taking Noah’s side.”

  “Just because I think you don’t understand him doesn’t mean I care for him any more than as an employer.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Sorry,” I offered. “About everything,” I added.

  “I should be really, really mad at you,” Grace pointed out.

  “So are you?”

  “Only if it means we get to make up in a spectacular way.”

  “What you see is what you get,” I said, holding my arms out.

  “Let me get back to you on that.” Grace smiled again, more with her eyes than with her mouth.

  Was it any wonder I loved her?

  34

  One Wish

  Sister Watson’s home was packed. Everyone crammed to get in and get in place. It had been only an hour or so ago that Sister Watson had noticed Roger stirring. News of his possible coming to whipped though the meadow at breakneck speed. Everyone came bearing gifts and bulk food. President Heck occupied the best seat in the house—a folding chair pulled right up to the bed. Everyone else was forced to stand and huddle over. Ricky Heck took Roger’s hand in his and stroked it.

  “Are you there?” he asked quietly.

  Once again Roger stirred, and it looked as if he were making an attempt to open his eyes. It took every ounce of self-mastery that the town was capable of mustering to simply not cheer.

  “Roger, it’s Ricky,” President Heck said. “You’re here in Thelma’s Way. Do you remember us, Roger?”

  A shallow and barely audible “Yes” escaped from his lips like a ghost of good things present.

  The entire house emotionally and collectively hurrahed. The very foundation that everyone was standing on expanded and contracted in one giant and joyous sigh. No one cared about being on the front of a book at the moment. All anybody felt was happiness over their friend having held on to life.

  President Heck held Roger’s hand to his face and cried.

  It was a great day.

  35

  I Think We’re Falling

  December 13th

  Monday morning I sent Grace flowers and begged her to forgive me for doubting her. I even asked her forgiveness concerning Noah Taylor—for falsely accusing him. She was willing to accept the flowers with the condition that I would not bother him again.

  I sort of promised that I wouldn’t.

  Monday night after work, Grace and I went to hear the tri-ward choir concert being held at the Southdale community amphitheater. All three wards had practiced separately and were now coming together in what would be a beautiful “pre-Christmas, bring your nonmember friends, missionary and goodwill, family home evening program” (at least that’s how the flyers had described it).

  Unfortunately, before the first note was sung, problems had surfaced. The three wards began squabbling over who would get the center section and who would be stuck singing from the less-prestigious wings. They ended up drawing straws to solve that one. Our ward drew the long straw and won themselves the center spot. Then they all became concerned about who would direct whom. The solution to this was to have one director facing each individual ward choir. Three directors, one voice. Brother Stablin, our ward chorister, took his place in front of the group.

  Brother Stablin had been directing our choir since before I could remember. He was a thick man with flowing white hair growing from both his head and his ears. He had flaming blue eyes and a belly that his belt had a hard time confining. Often he would pull his trousers up over his belly, only to have them work their way down until his stomach sprang in release. He taught physics at the university here in Southdale and took the position of choir director very seriously.

  Grace and I spread out a blanket on the ground in front of the open-air theater. It wasn’t cold enough to warrant jackets, so I just had on a heavy shirt and Grace was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. She looked like a casual Eskimo with her hood pulled up around her face—her hair spilling out like red grass from an Easter basket. We had brought Margaret and Abel with us, but they ran off to be with friends as soon as we arrived. My mother was supposed to be singing with the choir, but she was not in the mood to do anything festive. I worried about leaving her home alone anymore because her depression was getting worse. We had not heard anything from my dad in weeks. I was worried, but for some reason I felt certain he was all right, and would be coming back soon. I hoped it wasn’t just that I had seen too many Christmas specials on TV.

  Grace scooted up next to me as we watched the three ward choirs bunch up together in preparation for the show to begin. All those singing tonight had been instructed on what to wear. The men were to wear dark green sweaters, and the women were in red. Two notes into the first song, however, I noticed that nobody had given any thought to where certain people would be standing. Thanks to the way everyone had ended up on the risers, the women’s red sweaters spelled out a big red minor swear word—a word that could have been used to describe their performances so far. The moment after I noticed the sweater message, Grace did also.

  “Do you see what I see?” she asked festively.

  “I do,” I replied, trying to appear disgusted by it.

  The expletive looked huge, and perfectly arranged. It could not have been clearer if they had tried.

  “Should we say something to someone?” Grace asked, giggling.

  “And ruin the performance?” I scoffed.

  Margaret came up to Grace and me with a couple of her friends.
r />   “Trust, can we borrow some money?” she asked. “We want to get something to drink at the concession stand.”

  “I’m broke,” I told her, stretching my legs out on the blanket.

  “I’ve got a few dollars,” Grace volunteered. “Mind if I come along?”

  Margaret gave the fifteen-year-old “yes” nod. Grace stood up, leaving me alone. I listened to the music for a few minutes, closing my eyes to get a stronger effect, and to block out the hidden message of their wardrobes.

  “Nice night, isn’t it?” a voice said from above me.

  I looked up to see Leonard’s big head eclipsing the moon.

  “Should I be concerned that you always know where I am?” I asked.

  “I think ‘comforted’ is a better word.”

  I thought so too, but unfortunately that’s not how I felt. Leonard had on a long-sleeved shirt and ball cap. And for some reason both his hands were tucked into a muff that was strapped around his neck and hanging at waist level. He saw me look crookedly at his muff.

  “If you’re going to make fun of the muff, I’m leaving,” Leonard said as if he had already experienced his fill of muff jokes tonight.

  “I didn’t know they still made them” was all I said.

  “They don’t.” Leonard sat. “I made this myself out of big and tall socks and a bungee cord.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Keeps the hands warm,” he explained. “Plus, it’s a lot cooler than those goofy-looking fanny packs.”

  That was an issue for debate.

  “So, what are you doing here anyway?” I asked.

  “I came to see the show.”

  “Can you read the message they wrote out for you on their sweaters?”

  Leonard squinted. “Crab?” he said. “I bet the final number has something to do with the ocean,” he reasoned.

  “That’s a p,” I pointed out.

  “Oh,” Leonard realized, “it seems mighty unChristmaslike.” Then he sat down and lay back on our blanket.

  “You know, Grace will be here in a moment. She’ll see you’re not in your dome.”