Devlin's Grace

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  “Hi,” she said. “Happy birthday, hon.”

  Devlin halted and stared at her. His expression shifted from gloom to shock in seconds. His deep eyes caught hers and held them. “So you were here all the time?” he asked, in a strained voice.

  Gracie nodded. “I’ve been here most of the day. What happened? You looked unhappy when you came home.”

  “Unhappy?” Devlin’s voice shot up the scales. “God damn it, yes, I was miserable.”

  “Why?” she asked, noting he’d used past tense.

  Standing still, he shook his head slightly. “I got off work and thought I’d go by and see you at the bookstore. Today’s not my favorite day and I thought visiting you might cheer me up. But you weren’t there. One of the other clerks, Sarah, Sasha, something said you called in sick today. You left early last night. I thought maybe you hadn’t felt well then, so I went to your apartment to check on you. I knocked and knocked until the landlord hollered up the stairs you’d moved out this morning.”

  He paused and guilt ate her up inside, gnawed at her belly like bad indigestion. Devlin put his hands on her shoulders, as if to reassure himself she was solid and real. “So I thought you’d split,” he said, simple and soft. “I thought you left, ran out on me. I couldn’t figure out what I might’ve done wrong. I tried to call your cell a dozen times, but you didn’t pick up.”

  Gracie stepped forward and put her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Devlin. I never dreamed you’d go by work or the other place. I just wanted to surprise you, that’s all.”

  With a sigh deeper than a hand dug well, he said, “You did.”

  Her fancy plans ended up hurting him, the opposite of what she intended and so she asked, “Are you mad?”

  “Hell no,” Devlin said. “I’m glad you’re all right and happy you’re here. Jesus, Gracie, you scared the shit out of me.”

  “I didn’t mean to, Dev.”

  His arms caught her up and he crushed her in a tight embrace. “I thought you were gone, girl, for good.”

  By now Devlin must’ve figured it out, but Gracie revealed her surprise. “I’m not – I’m here to stay. I moved in. It’s supposed to be my birthday present to you, Dev.”

  Devlin relaxed his python tight hold and whooped aloud. Before Gracie could think, he swept her from her feet and carried her into the house, her arms still about his neck. Once inside, he kicked the door shut with one foot and kissed her with enough force to rob her breath. Just about the time Gracie decided they’d make love before supper, Dev paused and sniffed the air.

  “Did you cook something?”

  “Meatloaf,” she confessed.

  “It smells good,” he said. “I’m hungry.”

  “It’s ready if you want to eat now.”

  “Sure, soon as I wash up.”

  They sat down at the wobbly kitchen table with their plates. Gracie picked up her fork, but Devlin grasped her hands. Although he usually didn’t, he asked a simple blessing, and she chimed in at the end with “amen”. Although she didn’t ask, he smiled. “It just seemed like the right thing to do, okay? It’s no big deal. I’m just relieved. You don’t know how fucking worried I was about you.”

  Gracie could guess, but she shed her guilt like worn out shoes. “I don’t care if you ask a blessing, Dev. So you don’t mind I moved myself in today?”

  His grin told her more than words could. “I don’t mind. It’s the best birthday present I ever had, babe. I like it. And I like the meatloaf, too.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  The simple supper felt so right, Gracie thought. Her few plants, a couple of African violets and one aloe Vera plant added homelike ambiance. They rested in the south windowsill, and she made a mental note to pick up a cheap tablecloth next time she went shopping. Devlin praised her simple fare and meant it. “I hope you saved room for cake,” she said when she pulled out the bakery dessert.

  “Did you make it, too?” Devlin asked, admiring the fancy frosting and the bright bows made out of fondant.

  She laughed. “I can bake a cake, but I can’t decorate one like this. No, I picked it up at a little shop. Do you like it?”

  “Yeah,” he said and sounded sincere. “I haven’t had one in years. At least you didn’t get me one all tricked up with witches, goblins, and pumpkins. The few cakes I had as a kid from a bakery were all Halloween style.”

  The idea never entered her mind, but there was something she hadn’t gotten. “I forgot candles,” she said, contrite.

  “I don’t need any,” Devlin said. “But you can sing Happy Birthday to me to make up for it.”

  Bashful about singing, Gracie tried to talk her way out of it, but he insisted so she sang, cheeks flaming hot. Then they shared some scrumptious cake. As she cleared the table and cleaned up, Gracie thought Devlin might wander into the living room, but he remained in the kitchen, talking to her as she worked. He turned one of the chairs backward and sat in it, telling her about his day. It made Gracie feel like a real domestic goddess.

  Later when they settled down together on the couch, his arm draped over her shoulders to watch some television, the sense of home resonated. Snuggled against him, Gracie reflected on the homes she’d known – the old farmhouse where she grew up and on a lesser scale, her grandparents’ houses. Her just vacated apartment provided a refuge at the end of her long days, but it never quite felt like home, sweet home. Her first year in Springfield spent on campus in the dorms proved to be a miserable experience. Gracie disliked the communal bathrooms and not one of her ever changing series of roommates ever became a friend. None shared her likes or interests and each moved on. Devlin’s simple place managed to feel like a home, more tonight than before.

  Knowing she’d bunk here tonight and every night in the foreseeable future pleased her, and Gracie could tell Devlin liked the idea. He hadn’t stopped grinning since he realized she hadn’t abandoned him.

  Sitting close together, she sensed the contentment oozing from him. If he’d been a cat, he’d have been purring. In his current state, calm and happy, Devlin wasn’t shaking a foot or wiggling fingers or any of the other things he often did when agitated. His laid back attitude offered a balm to her spirits. Although Gracie regretted frightening him earlier, his response hit deep as an indication of how much he felt. And she savored the knowledge, kept it close to her heart.

  As they relaxed, half somnolent and in accord, Gracie sighed with joy and said, “It’d be nice to do this every night. I like being here instead of at the bookstore.”

  Devlin gazed at her with possessive delight. “I like having you around. Why don’t you quit?”

  Her first gut response equaled a desire to do it, but her second sensible reaction was she couldn’t. “I wish I could,” Gracie sighed.

  “Why can’t you?”

  “I need the money,” she said, hearing in her tone the bitter echo of her mother’s voice.

  “For what?” Devlin asked. “It’s your last semester and I thought you have a scholarship.”

  “I do,” Gracie said. “It pays some of my tuition and part of my books, but it’s a long way from a free ride. This semester’s paid for though, but there’s still my rent, utilities, and…”

  The realization of what he suggested sank into her consciousness. Devlin grinned. “You don’t have those last expenses now, do you?”

  Her smile echoed his in brilliance. “I guess not. And I’ve got some savings.”

  The last bank statement she received confirmed a balance of just below two thousand dollars, the result of many long, hard hours worked over the past summer. Raised to count each penny, to search for any bargains and cut every possible corner, it hadn’t occurred to Gracie until now she might not have to work for awhile. Once she got her degree, she hoped to find a better job, but for these few months, she should be able to manage thanks to Devlin.

  “Then quit,” he said. “I like the idea of coming home to find you here.”

  Those simple words sp
oke volumes. Gracie knew all too well how it felt to come home alone to an empty space. No one to talk to, gripe to, or share with sucked and she didn’t have the demons he did to fight or the bad memories haunting her mind. For a few moments, she weighted the options. Continue to work in the bookstore, late evenings, crabby customers, a sometimes demanding supervisor. Or come home from classes, study, and spend time with Devlin. When Gracie put it into those two options, there wasn’t any need for deliberation.

  “I’ll do it,” she said happily. “I’ll give my week’s notice tomorrow.”

  No more late nights, yawning as she re-shelved books, or wondering how she might get home. She wouldn’t have to worry about Devlin, whether she’d see him or hear from him. Gracie sat up straight. “I need to find my cell phone.”

  In all the drama, she’d forgotten she couldn’t locate it earlier or that Devlin tried to phone. They searched and he found it, finally, in the front seat of the Ford where she’d left it. It might’ve fallen out of her pocket, too.

  “Let’s go to bed,” Devlin said after she’d placed it on the charger. His dark eyes smote her with desire and long before he touched her, Gracie burned.

  Rain drummed on the roof, constant and soothing as he came to her, this time with tenderness. Their slow lovemaking conquered any lingering angst and blessed her arrival. Devlin touched her with gentle fingers, stroking her into both delight and submission. They faced each other, nude on the bed, hands caressing the other’s bodies. Gracie touched each scar and then traced the curve of his butt. Devlin traced her spine, his touch so sensitive on her aroused flesh she trembled with want. Their mouths mingled and when he slid into her, Devlin moved with the quiet certainty of a powerful river. He surged into her and they joined, together more now than ever before.

  Chapter Nine

  November rode in with the fury of a Norse goddess, chill and blustery. Grace’s final week at Barnes and Noble ended and she relished leaving campus after her last class daily to go home. Afternoons were study time, but she often cooked up something, too. Devlin bought her a crock pot and she learned to use it to make savory dishes, simple but satisfying. She discovered where the nearest bus stops were and bus times, but Devlin let her take the Ford whenever she wanted. Living together revealed personality quirks neither expected. Gracie hadn’t realized Devlin often fell asleep slumped on the couch or how much he wandered when he couldn’t sleep. At first the way he prowled the small apartment bothered her, but she adapted. So far, her parents didn’t know she’d moved or where, but with Thanksgiving ahead Gracie thought she should tell them. She wanted to go home for the holiday and take Devlin with her, but he’d resisted the notion so far. Unwilling to leave him on his own, Gracie struggled to think of a way to convince him to come to the farm, too.

  Most days Gracie stopped by the supermarket on the way home from class. If she waited for Devlin to do the shopping, he’d wouldn’t until there wasn’t a crumb of food in the place. One Wednesday afternoon, a day and a week before Thanksgiving, sleet skittered down from a slate gray sky and she didn’t go the market. Two thick pork chops simmered in the crock pot at home and Gracie didn’t think they needed anything. She snuggled on the corner of the couch wearing thick socks, working on her final term paper and waited for Devlin.

  Before he arrived, Gracie realized she hadn’t bought anything he could pack in his lunch to work the next day. Although he didn’t mind picking up something at the store, she liked preparing a sandwich or something.

  Reluctant to brave the weather for another store trip, Gracie searched the kitchen until she found a can of tuna, a lonely egg, a dab of mayonnaise, and enough seasonings to stir up some tuna salad. Although she didn’t care for it, Devlin liked it, so she put together a batch for him.

  Devlin arrived home late. From the moment he walked through the door, Gracie noted how exhausted he seemed. Over supper, he revealed it hadn’t been a good day at work either. As security, he often caught shoplifters of all ages. Depending on the value of the stolen items, perpetrators might get a warning, be barred from the particular Wal-Mart store, or be prosecuted. Repeat offenders or obvious thieves were fair game, but he hated the innocent victims of circumstance.

  “One of the people I caught was an old lady,” he told Gracie at the table. “She had to be eighty at least. She’d tucked several things into her purse, swore she did it so she wouldn’t lose them on the way to the checkouts. I’d probably just let her go, but the store manager had other ideas. He didn’t give a shit about the packets of sewing needles or even the paperback romance. What sent him over the top was the nice watch. Poor old gal’s somebody’s mom and grandma so it was a helluva thing.”

  “They turned her over to the police?” Gracie asked, with disbelief.

  “Yeah.” Devlin sighed. “Both the old lady and the teenage girl got busted and charged. The teen took make-up and perfume, but the damn perfume was expensive. The law’s the law and the company rules stand, but the kid swore she just took the stuff for a date with her boyfriend. I believe her, but I couldn’t do a damn thing to help.”

  “Honey, I’m sorry.” It wasn’t adequate at all, but Gracie couldn’t do anything to change what happened.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Devlin said. “It made for a long ass day and coming home, the roads were just slick enough to cause me to slide at a couple traffic lights. I thought sure some guy was going to hit me. He wasn’t paying attention.”

  One of Gracie’s worst fears involved Devlin having an accident on the motorcycle. Each time she caught a news report about a fatality or even a slide with injuries, she worried. “Devlin,” she said now. “You can take the car so it’s safer. I’ll ride the bus.”

  For the first time since coming home grumpy and worn out, Devlin smiled at her. “Naw, babe,” he said. “It’s okay. Nothing’s going to happen to me, not now. I’ve already had my share of shit in this life.”

  As she got up to bring more corn to the table, Gracie paused and kissed him. “Good, because I couldn’t stand it if anything bad happened.”

  He scrubbed his face with both hands and yawned. “I’ll be fine if I just get some sleep.”

  Despite her presence, Devlin continued to struggle with sleep. Sometimes, in her arms or with her hand offering silent succor, he slept for longer periods, but many nights, Dev slept in brief fits, waking with nightmares. Too often he wandered through the apartment, restless, and sometimes Gracie found him dozing on the couch. He refused to consider sleeping pills of any kind and over the weeks, she’d become more accustomed to his nocturnal rambles, although she tried to coax him to sleep whenever she could.

  “We can go to bed early,” Gracie said. “I’m tired, too. It’s the weather, partly.”

  “Yeah,” Devlin said. “I don’t like the cold much.”

  In recent weeks, Gracie had learned in addition to his burns and obvious scars, Devlin also had suffered a few broken or cracked bones. When temperatures dropped, he often hurt but seldom complained. She would hazard a guess most people around him never noticed, but Gracie, tuned to his needs, did.

  Earlier than usual, they retired for the night, curled up together in one of Gracie’s favorite positions, like two spoons tucked together in a cutlery drawer. She woke to find him absent just twice and thought he must’ve gained some rest. Devlin overslept a little and hurried to make it to work, cursing and crashing as he got around. Gracie didn’t have an early class, but she got up anyway and kissed him, lingering at the door.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” she said. “Be careful.”

  Dev nodded. “Yeah, watch it driving to school. Love you, girl.”

  No matter how many times he told her, the words always evoked a smile. “I love you, too.”

  Gracie’s morning crawled. Her classes dragged and when she learned her early afternoon class had been cancelled, she welcomed the chance to head home. She planned to finish her paper, due within the week. Sooner or later, she’d need to go grocery shopping, but she h
eaded home first. As soon as she pulled up, she saw Devlin’s motorcycle and frowned. If he was home, something must be skewed because he never arrived until around four, at the earliest.

  She let herself into the apartment and called, “Dev?”

  Then she saw him on the couch. Devlin lay on his right side facing the television, knees bent in an almost fetal position. His eyes were closed, his face ashen, paler than the white pillowcase he rested his head against. Haggard lines in his face aged him ten years, but he opened his eyes at the sound of her voice. “Gracie?” he said in a puny tone.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” she replied. “Devlin, what’s the matter? You look awful.”

  “I’m sick,” he said. As if to prove it, his body convulsed and his face shifted as he lifted up on one elbow. Gracie hadn’t seen the wastebasket parked beside the couch until Devlin retched into it with a horrible moan. He heaved and gagged, but not much came up.

  She reacted with speed. Before he’d finished, she hurried to the kitchen, doused a clean towel with cool water and returned. As he lay back, breathing hard, she wiped his face with it, then his hands. Spotting a half empty soda pop bottle on the floor, she picked it up and offered him a drink to rinse the nasty taste from his mouth.

  Devlin managed a sip and sank back with a groan, one hand clutching his stomach.

  Gracie brushed back hair from his face and checked for fever. His skin wasn’t hot, though, cool and damp. “I’m sorry, Dev,” she said. “There must be something going around.”

  He shook his head. “I think its food poisoning.”

  They’d eaten the same things so she doubted it and opened her mouth to say so. Then she remembered the tuna salad she’d made. “Oh, my God,” Gracie said. “It must’ve been the tuna salad or I’d be sick too. Did you eat some?”