Secrets Unveiled

by Mary Manners

  “Good…that’s good, Grant.” Maggie plucked a piece of lint from the hem of her linen dress as she swallowed hard. What if Grant had been the one in that accident? What if he got hurt…or worse? She’d have to live the rest of his life never telling him how she truly felt. Could she manage that? “It’s good to see you. I’ve…missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too, Maggie.” Grant reached across the bench-back and gathered a lock of her hair between his fingers. He let his arm rest there as he spoke. “I didn’t realize how much until I saw you again…here, today.”

  “Me, too.”

  That counted for something, didn’t it? Exactly what that something might be, Maggie still wasn’t sure. She lifted her hand to her chest and fingered the locket that lay over her breastbone…nestled lightly against her heart.

  As the praise team kicked the music up to full volume, Pastor Ketchings stepped to the altar to lead the song. There was no more time for conversation as Grant joined in. The sanctuary came suddenly alive and, with each word she sang, Maggie felt the tune was a prayer straight to her heart.

  Gemma tapped Maggie on the forearm and cupped a hand to her mouth, whispering, “Can I hold your hand, Miss Andrews?”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I wanted to bring Oscar,” Gemma confided as she slipped her tiny hand into Maggie’s and squeezed. “But Mama wouldn’t let me. Don’t you think dogs need church, too?”

  “I’ll have to ponder a bit concerning that one, but for now I wouldn’t argue with your mom on that count.” Maggie stifled a grin as silent prayers ran like a flowing river along with the music…there was so much to talk about with her Heavenly Father today.

  ****

  Grant felt as if the praise song spoke directly to him. The words washed over him in tsunami of overwhelming emotion carrying a message that seemed to say, Leave the past behind and walk with Me. Your sins are cast away forever…gone for good. You are renewed…new in Me.

  He’d heard the song a hundred—perhaps even a thousand—times before, yet the tune held such a powerful message…one Grant really needed to hear again, considering all that had happened the past few weeks.

  He’d stamped a seal on the largest merger of his career, yet he felt unfulfilled by the success. Something was still missing. Grant knew exactly what that was, yet he had no idea how to secure what he longed for…what he needed.

  But he knew in his heart he was in the right place. He thought of the message on the prayer stone his mom had given him years ago, merely weeks before her death. She, unlike Grant’s father, had always been a believer.

  Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act. Psalm 37:5

  Though the words were quickly burned in Grant’s memory, they were simply that—a string of words—for the better part of his youth. Then the locket came into play, and he was arrested, disgraced, and suddenly everything changed. The very meaning of those words…their powerful message…became more than a string of syllables; they were sewn into the very fiber of Grant’s daily walk.

  On top of this morning’s music, Pastor Ketchings’s sermon covered forgiveness, of all things. At one point Maggie turned Grant’s way as if to ask, “Did you special-order this one?”

  Well, he couldn’t have done better if he’d planned the service himself, but perhaps Grant had special-ordered the words via prayer. As the closing song faded, he turned his gaze toward the cross and, though his voice resonated in his head alone, his lips moved to form the heartfelt words.

  God, have you returned from that vacation now? I need you on my watch. I can’t manage this alone.

  Something bumped his knee and Grant turned to find Maggie slinging a purse strap over her shoulder.

  “You’ll need a ride, won’t you?” she asked. The crowd had begun to disperse, and the benches around them emptied. “Or has Cara returned?”

  “No, she just texted to say they have two critical patients and one who’s in fairly serious condition. She’s going to have to hang around the ER for a while to take help care of things.”

  “I can take you home, if you’d like.”

  “What about the park, Uncle Grant?” Gemma tugged at his pant leg. “You and Mama said we’d go after church so I can play.”

  “Plans have changed, Gemma.” Grant leaned in to smooth her unruly hair. Her face was sticky and her lips stained purple from a grape lollipop he’d smuggled in for her. “Your mom is stuck at the hospital. Those people who were in the wreck need her help.”

  “Can’t we go?” Gemma rarely whined, but she was on the verge now. “You promised, too. And last time it rained so we didn’t get to go, either. I wanna go, Uncle Grant. Please and pretty please.”

  “Gemma…” Grant sighed. Here it come’s…the meltdown. And Grant couldn’t really blame the kid. Things had been awfully crazy the past few weeks. Cara had worked double her normal hours and the fallout over the locket…well, it had taken a toll on all of them. “I’ll take you later this afternoon.”

  “But the sky looks mad again. What if it rains?”

  “I have an idea.” Maggie slipped from the pew and rounded them. “How about we hit a drive through and grab a boxed lunch? How’s chicken sound? We can take it to the park for a picnic and then you can play for a while, Gemma, until the storms move in. What do you say?”

  “Yeah!” Gemma hopped up and down with a flurry of tiny claps. “I say let’s go.”

  Grant rose and stepped forward. “Maggie, if you have plans…”

  “I do have plans—a picnic lunch with my most inquisitive student…and her handsome uncle.”

  “Handsome?”

  “Yes, I’d say that.” Maggie winked. “Now, let’s go while the sun is still peeking through the clouds.”

  10

  “What would you have done if you hadn’t gone to college?” Maggie asked as she gathered soiled wrappers and containers and stuffed them back into the take out bag. Her belly was pleasantly full, and for the first time in days, she felt a sense of peace. She glanced at the sky and noticed the clouds were shifting off to the east. Finally, the meteorologists had missed in their favor. “Do you think you’d still own an investment company?”

  “Are you kidding? No way would that be in the cards. I’d probably still be running the streets, mad at the world.” Grant sipped his sweet tea as the breeze nipped at his hair. His eyes were dark against the sunlight, and haloed today by a ring of gold at the outer edge of each iris. “My time at college, the knowledge I garnered there as well as the opportunity to figure out where I was headed…to mature, saved me.”

  “How did you decide on the University of Tennessee? I remember the time or two we discussed college placement during classes you always insisted you planned to go as far away as you could manage.”

  “I thought I would…for a while I despised living here. But it wasn’t the town I disliked, it was the circumstances. I realized it was pointless to run. I needed to face things, to stand up to my dad and forge my own path. It was the only way I’d make it and not turn out like…him.” He studied her over the rim of his paper cup as he drew another long sip. “So I did my research and learned UT was the best fit for what I wanted. My dad had other plans, though. He wanted me to go to his alma mater. He talked about it constantly, as if it were already a done-deal. I guess that made me want to defy him even more. Back then, I would do anything just to get under his skin. I don’t know now, though…looking back heading east may have not been such a bad thing. But those days, I equated following in his footstep with ending up like him.”

  “Like him? You’ve said that twice now, Grant. What, exactly, does it mean to be like him?”

  “Dad was mostly disgruntled, discontent, and sometimes even downright mean.” Grant coughed slightly as the tea went down wrong. “I tried my best to travel the road he’d paved, but once Mom passed away he became a tough sell. We were close once, and then everything suddenly changed. It didn’t exactly happen overnight, but it was fast
. There was a sudden disconnect in every step he took, like a plug being ripped from the outlet. It spilled over in the way he spoke to me, treated me…in the things we did—or rather didn’t—do together any longer.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” Grant leaned back against the picnic tabletop and trained his gaze on Gemma, who had crossed toward the play area and climbed the ladder to the top of the slide. Her cheeks were flushed, and he considered walking her drink over to see if she’d like a sip. But he was distracted with finishing his explanation. “I missed the first semester my freshman year of college because Dad decided to pull his funding. It’s not that he couldn’t afford it—he had plenty of money. He just didn’t want to share.”

  “Is that why you…did what you did at Grandma Nell’s…and all those other places with the rest of those boys?”

  “No, by then I was done with that kind of stuff. I’d learned my lesson. I was ashamed of my actions…of hurting Cara. I had already been to juvenile court and promised to walk the straight and narrow. It shamed me, realizing that I’d bowed to that level, got sucked in with the wrong crowd. I wondered what Mom would say if she was here to see. I made a decision… I would never do anything like that again. I’ve stuck to it, Maggie. I don’t even pluck pennies from the sidewalk anymore.”

  “But when you found out about your dad…about the money for college?”

  “It was tough. If I had known he was going to do that, I would have stepped up work to save some money—and I don’t mean the kind of work that led to juvenile. Who knows…it may have given me the focus I needed back then and kept me off the streets. But Dad always promised if I went to college, he’d take care of things for me. I didn’t know that promise depended solely on me following his dream instead of mine.”

  “What was his dream?”

  “Studying law, working my way up the corporate ladder as quickly as possible. But I’d seen enough of the courtroom and all those inner-workings to last me a lifetime. I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting there day in and day out, trying to manipulate the system in my favor and arguing with the other side.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Plus, being an attorney—at least of the caliber Dad expected—consumes hours and hours of time. Dad was gone from sun-up to bedtime. Nights…weekends…there was always a case that required his attention. After Mom died, Cara and I were alone way more than he was with us. If it wasn’t for her”—Grant shook his head—”and whoever helped me through college after the old man pulled the rug out from under my feet… I wish I knew who it was. I’d like to thank them for saving me.”

  Maggie’s pulse stuttered at the comment. Sunlight warmed her back as it peeked through the clouds. Slowly, she murmured, “I know who it was, Grant.”

  He shifted his gaze form Gemma to her. “What did you say?”

  “I know who funded your scholarship.” Maggie slipped her hand into his and squeezed as the words spilled out in a rush. “I just found out the day I learned you had the locket—when we argued at school. It was my grandmother…Grandma Nell.”

  ****

  “Your grandmother?” Grant kept his gaze trained on Gemma as he and Maggie spoke. The child had moved from the slide to the swings, and now she covered her mouth as a flurry of coughs swept through. He ought to have her come and sit in the shade to cool off a bit. And he would do just that in a minute or two…just a few more minutes. He had so much yet to share with Maggie. “The one who owned the locket?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But why?” Grant’s memory shifted to the day he’d sat together with her in the judge’s chambers. His dad was detained in circuit court and only Cara, who was barely twenty-one at the time, had come with him. Grant thought his dad might have pulled some strings with the courts, but he’d done just the opposite. The judge’s questions shot like a full magazine and at one point, Grant simply broke down. Gone was the tough-guy attitude that had shielded his heart from the loss of his mom…from his Dad’s rejection…for so long. At the floor of this cesspool he sat alone, afraid, and exhausted with the anger that threatened to consume him. As the sobs quaked through, Nell had taken his hand and softly whispered, “God still loves you, son.”

  Son….she’d called him son.

  At that very moment, Grant felt the slightest shift deep inside. He dried his face and sat up straight in the chair, his gaze connecting head-on with hers as the tears trailed down both cheeks.

  With a raspy voice, he managed, “I’m sorry for what I’ve done.”

  Her response was a simple, “I know.”

  “It will never happen again.” Grant had fisted his hands and propped them on the polished wood table. His words were a plea straight from the very depths of his heart. “I want to do something with my life…something good. I want to make my mom proud…even if she’s not here to actually see what I’ve done.”

  Nell’s nod was the slightest sliver of a gesture. She draped a hand over his shoulder and squeezed gently. “Oh, she’ll know, son…one day she’ll surely know.”

  As Grant relived the snippet in time, he wondered how he could have failed to connect the dots. It all made sense now…absolutely perfect sense.

  But he’d never be able to thank Nell. The realization struck like a blow to his gut. She was gone…for good.

  Gemma was crossing the mulch toward the monkey bars when she stumbled and fell to her knees.

  “Hey, pumpkin, are you OK?” Grant called.

  Silence.

  “She’s in trouble, Grant.” Maggie clutched his hand. “She needs us.”

  Panic swarmed Grant as Maggie leapt to her feet. She kicked off her heels and took off at a sprint. He rose to follow, overtaking Maggie as they neared Gemma’s side.

  Gemma’s distress was evident in the rasp of each breath that failed to fill her lungs. Maggie fell to her knees and turned Gemma to face them. Already, her lips had taken on the purplish tinge that struck a chord of fear.

  “Oh, Grant…do something.”

  Grant’s hand went to the pocket of his khakis for Gemma’s inhaler.

  “Do you have it?” Maggie cradled Gemma’s head. “Hurry, Grant…she needs help.”

  “Here.” But his pocket was empty. “Oh, no…the medicine’s with Cara…it’s in her purse. I forgot to get it from her before she left church for the hospital.”

  “The ambulance…”

  “Someone must have called; it’s on its way.” Off in the distance, the wail of sirens shrieked. “Easy, Gemma,” Grant coaxed as he knelt beside her and lifted her into his arms. “I’ve got you now. It’s OK, honey. Just breathe, Gemma. Please breathe.”

  But Gemma’s efforts told Grant that her lungs were tight as plaster. For a moment the world went suddenly still, as if the earth itself quit turning. Then Gemma struggled against Grant in one final attempt to draw a breath before her eyes rolled back and she went frighteningly limp in a puddle of polka dot fabric.

  11

  “Here you go. Maggie handed Grant a cup of coffee as she settled into the glider on her front porch. “Are you doing OK?”

  “I’m better now,” Grant scooted over to make room for her beside him, “knowing Gemma’s home and tucked safely into her bed.”

  “She gave us a real scare, didn’t she?”

  “She sure did.” Grant sipped the coffee and then set the mug on the table at his side. “I thought it was going to be much, much worse when I saw her collapse, but your quick thinking saved the day…saved her life, Maggie.”

  “It’s a good thing I failed to take her inhaler out of my purse that day we returned from the zoo. There was just enough medicine left in the pump…just enough...or things might have ended up much, much worse.”

  “Yes. Cara called a little while ago and said Gemma was given a thorough once over at Children’s Hospital and everything looks fine. The pediatrician recommended she take it easy for the next week or so, with allergy season at its height, and for all of us to
keep a close watch on her. Cara’s going to cut back on her hours for a while and stick closer to home.” Grant took Maggie’s hand and squeezed her fingers gently. “But, all told, it’s almost Divine intervention, the way things played out today.”

  “It’s not almost Divine intervention. I think it most certainly is Divine intervention.” Maggie turned to him and her veil of hair, scented with sunshine and something softly floral, spilled over one shoulder. “God brought us back together for a reason, Grant, and maybe this is it…maybe what happened today is the reason.”

  “It’s more than that.” He leaned in to gather her close. As she rested her head on his shoulder, he felt the beat of her pulse. The rhythm comforted, soothed, and made him feel more alive than ever. “Maggie, I know I’ve hurt you, but it would mean so much for you to forgive me…to truly forgive me for all the heartache I’ve caused you.”

  “I already have.” She brushed her lips to his stubbled cheek, sending a shiver of heat down his spine. “I’ve been selfish, treating you like a leper…judging you when God has been so gracious with me despite all of my missteps and flaws. You didn’t—don’t—deserve that. Almost losing Gemma has brought things front and center. Life is precious…much, much too precious to carry a grudge.”

  “Your Grandma Nell had a heart of gold. She believed in me when no one—except maybe Cara—gave me the time of day. It saddens me beyond measure to think I’ll never have the opportunity to thank her for all she did for me.”

  “You already have thanked her, Grant, a thousand times over. Every day…every action with Gemma…is the best kind of thank you.” Maggie slipped her hand from his cheek to the nape of his neck. “She saw something in you…something good and worthy. I see it, too, in all you do. You’re a good man, Grant Anderson. You took all the bad things in your life…all of the hurt and failures…and formed them into something positive.”

  “That means a lot, coming from you. It matters to me what you think. It has always mattered, Maggie.” Grant smoothed his lips along the length of one eyebrow and then dipped to claim her mouth. When he came up for air he asked, “So, do you have any adventures planned at school this week…anything you might need a little help with?”