The Color of Grace

by Linda Kage

  Once he pulled into Barry’s driveway, I reached for the handle and was halfway out of his Jeep by the time he came to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride,” I called as I shut my door.

  Behind me, the engine stopped. I ground my teeth and picked up my pace, hurdling a frozen puddle in the sidewalk.

  “Grace,” Todd called after me, as he dove out the driver’s side. He sounded urgent, as if I’d forgotten something. I turned, expecting to see him holding up my purse before I realized my purse was slung over my shoulder where it should be.

  “I’ll walk you to your door,” he said, panting as he reached me.

  We were only two feet from the porch steps.

  “No really. I’m okay,” I said and began to rotate back to my determined path, escape firmly planted in my goals.

  But he caught my arm. “Wait.” Encouraging me back around, he smiled as if he knew exactly what I was trying to do and it only amused him. “I hope you had a good time tonight.”

  Mistakenly thinking he wanted to talk a moment before he tried to plant a wet one, I opened my mouth to give the polite, mandatory response, but he swooped down and caught me off guard.

  There was no five-second lag this time around. I pulled back instantly and even smacked at his hand that had already found my hip.

  He gave an innocent blink. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re rushing,” I said from between gritted teeth.

  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I just…” Then he smiled and leaned back in again toward me. “You just make me want more.”

  Dipping his head, he came in fast to lay another one on me.

  Already pulling my face away for the second time and raising my hand to manually shove his face back, I nearly wept with relief when the porch lights flashed on and the front door opened.

  Barry began to shuffle outside, wearing a sweat suit and white socks, but he stopped short when he lifted his face and saw us, me nearly breaking my spine as I leaned backward away from Todd and Todd arched over on top of me, his neck craned out and lips still puckered.

  Eyes widening—with a bit too much fake surprise—Barry pulled back. “Oh, it’s just you, Grace. I’m sorry; I didn’t know you were coming home so early. I could’ve picked you up.”

  Since Todd respectfully straightened and stepped a space away from me in Barry’s presence, I straightened too, smoothing down my coat and then my hair.

  “You weren’t home when I called.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Your mom was called in to work tonight, so I ran out and rented a movie. Hey, you want to watch it with me?”

  My immediate response was, “Sure.” Whirling toward Todd, I said goodbye, totally dismissing him.

  He glanced at Barry as if he hoped my stepfather would scurry back into the house, leaving him with one more opportunity to grope me. Bless Barry for this, but he stayed rooted in the opened doorway—probably letting all kinds of cold air into the house—and offered Todd a cheerful grin along with a wave as he said, “G’night, son.”

  As Todd bowed his head and slumped back to his car, Barry stepped the rest of the way onto the porch as I climbed the stairs to meet him.

  “Thank you,” I said, meaning it from the bottom of my heart.

  He smiled, and this time it wasn’t fake. “No problem.”

  Todd’s Jeep started. Barry glanced over my shoulder as he held the door open for me. “Who was that?”

  “Todd,” was all I said.

  “Hmm.” Coming in behind him, Barry paused to wipe his socks on the welcome mat. “So, you don’t like this Todd guy, or what?”

  I shrugged. “He’s okay.”

  No way was I going to discuss this subject with my stepfather who I’d only known for a few months, but he looked at me and I felt compelled to explain. “He just likes me more than I’m ready for right now.”

  Barry nodded. “Ah, yes, teenage boys have no subtly in showing their…affections.”

  “Tell me about it,” I muttered and rolled my eyes.

  Laughing, Barry slung his arm over my shoulder and led me toward the living room where the movie he’d rented was still playing the opening credits. “As long as he hasn’t tried more than a couple kisses, I guess I’ll let him live.”

  For some reason, his comment caught me off guard. Since I was still rusty at the whole having-a-father-thing, I doubted the inner voice in my head that screamed warning, warning, not appropriate behavior.

  It felt very odd to me, though, that kisses were okay in Barry’s book but anything more was grounds for termination. From the sitcoms I’d seen, Dads usually starting cleaning their guns even before a boy touched their baby girl. Barry, on the other hand, sounded—I don’t know—more jealous instead of fatherly.

  The arm draped over my shoulder suddenly burned through my clothes and gained about fifty pounds. His fingers grazed the side of my arm as he turned, steering us toward the couch. I shivered. Did dads even put their arms around their daughters’ shoulders? I had no idea.

  Pausing, he looked down at me, narrowing his eyes as he studied my face, which was no doubt tense with apprehension.

  “He hasn’t, has he?”

  Took me a moment to realize he was asking just how far Todd had tried to push me. My heart pounded as I stared up at my stepfather.

  “No,” I said quietly.

  He sighed in obvious relief. I frowned and started to turn away but he tightened his arm around me.

  “Grace,” he said softly.

  Too afraid to even gulp down another petrified swallow, I glanced up. The look in his eyes made my skin go cold. All the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. He continued to give me the intense look and I gave him a frightened, please-don’t-touch-me stare in return. I couldn’t help but remember what Kiera had said.

  Eww. Your new stepdad is that creepy dentist?

  Then I recalled the knowing gleam in Todd’s eyes when he first told me, I know where Dr. Struder lives as if he’d been here numerous times over the years to egg the creepy dentist’s house.

  It made me wonder exactly what the people of Osage knew about my stepfather that I did not.

  Barry laughed softly as if he could read every thought racing through my head, as if he knew just how uncomfortable he was making me. “I’m sorry,” he told me in a soft, intimate voice. Then he touched my hair. “It’s just that you’re so pretty. I don’t want some boy to hurt you.”

  Brain buzzing as all kinds of alarms ignited inside me, I nodded. “He hasn’t.”

  “Good.” Barry smiled.

  I could feel tears building. Motioning toward the hall that led to my bedroom, I wheezed, “You know, I just remembered…I need to finish my homework. I probably shouldn’t watch a movie.”

  Barry stepped back as if he realized that he was coming on too strong. He nodded. “Oh, sure. Sure.”

  I didn’t apologize for flaking out on him but spun around and hurried toward my room. I wanted so badly to lock my door, but I was too afraid to push the lock, because then he’d hear the click and know how scared I was.

  With shaking hands, I went to my mirror and looked at my reflection.

  You’re so pretty.

  I hadn’t ever thought of myself in terms of pretty or not pretty. I was just…there. Not fat, but not skinny. I was simply—yeah—there. Dark hair stretching down past my shoulders, face a bit too long with a skinny nose, wide mouth and tall enough forehead that I’d have to wear bangs for the rest of my life to hide all that expanse of skin above my eyebrows. My eyes were kind of nice, I guess. They weren’t that sparkly green like Ryder’s, but a pale version of brown, whisky-colored and set deep enough into my head to give me a sort of soulful look.

  Really, it was nothing amazing. Just me. Certainly not stunning enough for any male to tell me I was pretty before—even the two boys who weren’t technically fighting over me had never called me pretty.

  I shivered and rubbed at the goose bumps that had popped out
on my arms. Why had he told me I was pretty? How did that have anything to do with whether or not he wanted some boy to hurt me?

  I pressed a hand against my mouth to muffle a sob, catching sight of my necklace in the reflection in the mirror. Suddenly sickened by the gold thread lying against my skin, I fumbled to unhook it and set the piece of jewelry in my jewelry box. I stared at the red rose, wondering why he’d picked that flower. Didn’t roses symbolize passion or something like that?

  Barry hadn’t made a move that constituted sexual harassment, but what he’d said gave me the heebie-jeebies.

  Still, I couldn’t tell my mom about it. Not only were we not speaking, but how could I explain the look he’d had in his eye or the way his voice had gone all soft and private? And would my mom even believe me? After the way we’d been getting along lately, she’d probably just think I was lying to cause friction between her and her new husband.

  Mom was happy with Barry. Besides, what if I was simply overreacting? Maybe this was just his way of being fatherly. Todd had made me turn my uncomfortable-around-the-opposite-sex dial to full blast and now I was growing paranoid, suspecting my own stepfather of depravity. I didn’t want to get him into trouble if he hadn’t meant anything inappropriate by what he’d said.

  Blaming my suspicions on a severe case of melodrama, I told no one about what had happened. But I didn’t put his necklace back on again either.

  Chapter 16

  Everyone thinks white is so pure and good. The white knight. The merciful white flag. Does no one care how cold it is, freezing like snow and ice? Does no one know Japan says a white carnation signifies death? They put white into a “white lie” for a reason. I think white is actually deceitful, like Hemingway’s story, “Hills like White Elephants”. There’s more than meets the eye. White wants you to think it’s good. But it can also be a cold, lying death.

  I used to think in black and white. Pure good, pure bad. But I’m starting to suspect something dark lies behind the blinding color of white. Something dark just might lie behind everything I thought was so pure.

  * * * *

  The Sunday before my second week at Southeast brought a fresh fall of snow and a surprise visitor.

  Mom’s work called her in again. From listening in on one of her conversations with Barry, I learned a co-worker of hers had been fired, so she would probably be working a lot of overtime and strange hours until a replacement was hired.

  Half of me was happy; I wouldn’t have to ache inside, missing the woman she used to be whenever I saw her. The other half wanted to cling to her leg and beg her not to leave me alone in this huge lonely house with a grown man I didn’t know and wasn’t entirely convinced I could trust.

  Thinking it best to keep a low profile, I camped out in my room, cruising the internet in an attempt to see what my crew from Hillsburg was up to. But none of them were online. I wanted to call, but things had been so strained the last time we spoke, I didn’t know if I should bother them. If they were through with me, I should have the dignity to bow out of their lives gracefully, right?

  Oh, who was I kidding? I freaking missed my friends. I missed my mom. I missed my cramped bedroom and small bed.

  I wanted to go home.

  Glancing around the room, I realized why I’d yet to completely unpack, why I hadn’t decorated with my personal tastes. My stay here felt temporary, like I was on vacation.

  But this was permanent. This was home.

  I shivered and rubbed at my prickling arms. Adjusting to my new life was not going as smoothly as I’d hoped.

  When the doorbell rang, I didn’t even twitch with the need to find out who was calling. Wasn’t my house, wouldn’t be for me, right?

  But, “Grace,” Barry’s voice called seconds later, “you have a visitor.”

  I gasped and bolted to my feet. Immediately, Ryder’s face popped into my mind. Then I snorted and rolled my eyes. Why in the world would Ryder, of all people, visit me?

  Maybe he’d come to collect the five bucks I owed him, because I definitely owed him. Todd had done exactly as Ryder had predicted, which irritated and scared me, giving me that whole rabbit-trapped-in-Todd’s-gloating-clutches sensation again.

  But no. Ryder had a girlfriend. Ryder would not visit.

  Geesh, what was wrong with me, wanting a boy I should in no way, shape, or form even like?

  I hurried through the house, that little wishful part of me still hoping to see him. When I reached the entrance, I skidded to a jarring halt, utterly shocked at who had come. After a couple of blinks, I dropped my jaw.

  “Adam?” I had to whisper his name because I still couldn’t believe my eyes.

  But there he stood, the only boy from the nerd herd, as tall and lanky as ever, his dark hair growing down over his ears because he hated his ears, and a guitar strapped over his shoulder.

  It felt so good to see someone from home, I didn’t even question why he was alone, or ask where Schy and Bridget were. I simply opened my arms and charged forward.

  “Wow. Oh, wow. What are you doing here?”

  Plowing into him with a huge hug, I embraced Adam for the first time ever.

  Must’ve shocked him. He jerked in my arms before awkwardly lifting a hand to give me a brief one-armed hug back, then patted my back before letting go and stepping away to make space between us.

  I let him go, still smiling like a lunatic as I repeated, “What’re you doing here?”

  “I…” He opened his mouth, but stopped short when he glanced behind me.

  I turned to find Barry still hanging around, watching us.

  Eww. Creepy.

  Clearing my throat, I sent my stepdad a forced smile. Then grasped Adam’s elbow tight as I said, “We’ll talk on the porch.”

  Adam stumbled along behind me. “But it’s freez—well, okay.”

  It was freezing and still snowing like crazy. The air sent a gust of wind up into the porch and congealed my bones to icicles. But I refused to take Adam back inside. Not with Mr. I’ll-kill-him-if-he-does-more-than-kiss-you still inside.

  “There,” I said, sending my friend a smile as I huddled into myself, madly brushing my icy hands up and down the sides of my arms.

  Though he still wore a thick coat, Adam curled his shoulders in and rubbed his hands together before blowing on them.

  “Where’s everyone else?” I demanded.

  It struck me then how close I really wasn’t to Adam. I’d always considered him one of my best friends on earth because of his ties to Bridget and Schy, but honestly, we’d never connected, hardly ever talked to each other. It felt awkward to realize this so suddenly.

  “Bridge really misses you. She’s so sad.”

  I blinked, wondering how Adam of all people would notice if Bridget was sad. Poor boy didn’t even notice when he wore mismatching socks.

  “Well…” I started slowly, not sure what he wanted me to say. “I could call her more often.” Then I bit my lip. “Does she want me to call? I just kind of thought you guys didn’t want to talk to me since—”

  “No, no,” he cut in, lifting his hands to reassure me. “We just…well, we’re a little intimidated, I guess. I mean, you’ve got a boyfriend now and—”

  “But I don’t—”

  “And all the Southeast people who comment on your Facebook page let us know how popular you are and stuff. We just thought—”

  “Well, you thought wrong.” I rolled over him since he kept interrupting me. “I miss you guys. A lot.”

  “Yeah, well Bridget misses you too. A lot.”

  Frowning because this was the second time he’d said as much—mentioning Bridge and no one else—I stood there silently as he ran his hands through his hair, obviously distressed.

  “I wrote her a song,” he blurted out unexpectedly, eyeing me with a hopeful look.

  “Actually, I wrote it for her a long time ago, but now that she’s all depressed, maybe…I don’t know. Maybe I should sing it to her and see if that chee
rs her up any.”

  Yearning filled his eyes and it finally dawned on me. Adam was in love with Bridget.

  My jaw came unhinged and plopped open. “Oh!” I quickly covered my mouth with both hands, trying to hide the shock so as not to upset Adam, but I probably only emphasized it.

  How long had this been going on?

  “Oh, my gosh, you… Wow, Adam. Wow.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say. I was too stunned.

  A petty, vain part of me felt stung he’d chosen Bridget. I was just as close to him as she was; why hadn’t he written a song for me? But another small part embraced relief because I did not like him in that way and now I didn’t have to feel all awkward and guilty because he might like me more than I liked him.

  But for the most part, outside of the utter shock, I was completely excited.

  Adam and Bridget? Together?

  What a brilliant idea.

  I loved it.

  Looking sick with unease, he asked, “Will you listen to it? Tell me if it sounds like her?”

  “Me?” I pulled back. “You came all the way over here through the snow to have me listen to a song? Why didn’t you just ask Schy?”

  “Because you’re Grace. You…you wouldn’t make fun of me if it sucked.” His jaw tightened as he glanced away.

  Everything inside me brightened, flattered he thought so sweetly of me. “I…well, of course I’ll listen to it. I’d love to. Oh, my gosh, Adam. I can’t believe you actually wrote her a song.”

  Enthused now, his grin widened as he perched on the edge of Barry’s porch swing and slipped his guitar strap over his shoulder, situating the instrument into position. I knelt down in front of him, sitting on my knees so I wouldn’t freeze off my bum. As Adam bent his face over the wooden neck, his fingers found the strings by feel, and a melody unlike anything I’d ever heard before flowed out. It was soft and tender. Lovely and yet heartbreaking. Like a gentle current on a warm, sunny day—so unlike the frozen tundra surrounding the porch where we sat.

  The stream of music he created almost made me cry. And then he began to sing. He thoughtfully placed each word together. Bridget would have to be deaf and blind not to know what Adam felt for her when she heard this.