Carnations in January

by Clare Revell

  “Joel, this is Grace Chadwick from next door. Grace, this is my twin, Joel. It’s about time you two met properly instead of her thinking you’re me.”

  “Ah,” Joel said. “I had wondered why a total stranger kept waving at me.” He shook Grace’s hand firmly. “Nice to meet you. This munchkin here is Bradley. He stays over every other weekend, sometimes more.”

  “Hi.” Grace managed.

  “Hi,” Bradley said. “You’re pretty.”

  “You’re very kind.” Grace wasn’t sure how to react as she sat down, Elliott sitting beside her.

  The rain pounded on the windows and the wind howled.

  “Good job you fixed that roof tile. It might have blown away.”

  Elliott nodded, sliding his service sheet into his hymn book. “Just as well.”

  Bradley looked at her. “We’re having lunch at the carvery. Are you going to come as well?”

  “I ought to go home,” she began.

  Elliott looked at Bradley. “Sure she’ll come, too.” Then he turned to Grace. “Please, you have to eat. And who can turn down a cute grin like Bradley’s?”

  “OK, but I have to go home first and pick up my other bag. I don’t have my purse in this one.”

  “You won’t need money,” he said quietly as the pastor stood up in the pulpit. “But sure, we can pop home first.”

  She looked at him and raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t object to his paying now as the service began. It could wait until later. But she wasn’t about to have her lunch bought for her. Even if eating there would leave her short for the rest of the month, letting him pay a second time for her meal would make her feel beholden to him and that was something that she couldn’t let happen.

  ~*~

  The storm hadn’t diminished throughout the service, and the rain still pounded down as they reached the foot of Carnation Street, where a huge “road closed” sign and diversion arrows pointing the other way greeted them.

  Elliott stopped the car and opened the window as a police officer came over.

  “We live here, officer.”

  “Which number, sir?”

  “Forty-three and forty-five.”

  “One minute.” The police officer pulled back and spoke into his radio.

  Grace peered up the road. “Wonder what’s happened?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing good by the looks of it.”

  The police officer came back. “OK, you can go up and speak to the officer in charge. You’ll need to leave the car here.”

  “OK.” Elliott reversed and parked in the layby. “Good job I got the umbrella.”

  Grace shook her head as a myriad of thoughts, each worse than its predecessor, ran through her mind. She and Elliott walked up the hill towards the houses. Branches lay across the road. “Maybe part of that oak tree fell,” she said. “It has been creaking a lot.”

  A uniformed officer stopped them before they could go further. “This area is cordoned off. You’ll have to go back.”

  “The officer at the end of the road said we could come up. I’m Elliott Wallac from number forty-five. This is Grace Chadwick from forty-three.”

  Grace looked beyond the officer, her body going cold and numb. She blinked hard, trying to take in what she saw, but she couldn’t. “That’s my house,” she managed.

  The huge oak tree lay across the road, the top of it buried in the roof and the front of her house.

  “Elliott, that’s my house.” She darted around the police officer and headed towards the crime scene tape.

  “Grace, wait!” Elliott ran after her and grabbed her arms, pulling her back. “You can’t go in there.”

  “It’s my house…” She struggled against his firm hold, needing to work free and get in there.

  “Once it’s safe you can go in.” The police officer spoke in a soothing tone.

  Elliot looked at the officer. “Is mine all right?”

  “Fire department says it’s just forty-three that’s affected.”

  Elliott jerked his head in response. “In that case, we’ll wait in there out of the storm. Come on, Grace.” He gripped her arm firmly, almost dragging her over to his place.

  Grace surveyed the ruins of her house, tears blurring her vision. Her feet stumbled on the debris covering the path as Elliott pulled her inside.

  Haven’t I lost enough without losing this too?

  ~*~

  Grace perched on the edge of Elliott’s black leather sofa. Her stomach roiled and any hint of an appetite had long since vanished. Her skin crawled, and she didn’t think she would ever be warm again.

  Elliott had rung Joel and sent him and Bradley to lunch on their own.

  She pushed her hands through her hair. “I don’t believe this.”

  Elliott held out a cup of tea. Steam rose from the dark liquid. “Here, drink this.”

  “I don’t want it. I feel sick.”

  “You need to drink it.” He pressed the cup into her cold hands. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  She gripped the cup tightly. “What do I do?”

  “Honestly, it depends on how bad the damage is. It could just be the roof and front wall. But you’ll need the whole place surveyed to get a full damage report. It could be worse than it seems.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ve worried for a while about the sloping concrete floors, crumbling brickwork, the moisture, and the rotten window frames.”

  “It’s an old house.”

  “It’s the same age as this one.”

  Grace sighed. “Yeah, well, you’re a builder. You have to keep this place in good nick. It wouldn’t do your work credibility any good if you didn’t. Aunt Tilja lived alone.” She put down the cup. “I shouldn’t even be here. I should go home.”

  “You can’t. Not yet.”

  “Not the house. Home.” She drew in a deep breath. “Only I can’t do that either. I don’t have a home any longer. My flat back in Ely is gone as I rented it. Perhaps mum and dad…” She dissolved into tears, unable to remain strong any longer, but she had nowhere to go. Her new home was now in pieces. She doubted they’d let her back in today.

  The couch buckled as Elliott sat beside her and she shivered at his nearness.

  The front door opened and Bradley ran in. “Uncle Elliott, there’s a fireman wanting to talk to you and the lady from the broken house. Did you see it? There’s a huge tree crashed through the roof.”

  Elliott pushed a hand through his hair. “Yes, I saw it.” He helped Grace to her feet. “Come on, let’s see what the fire department wants.”

  A tall firefighter in full kit stood in the doorway. “We’re off now,” he said.

  “Can I go back home?” Grace asked.

  “Not until the building inspector’s been in and that won’t be ’til tomorrow. The outer front wall and roof are badly damaged and could fall at any time.”

  “Well, can I at least go and get my things?”

  The firefighter shook his head. “Not tonight. If the wind picks up again, that wall may give way.”

  Grace looked down, not paying any attention to the men talking. Only when she found Elliott looking at her expectantly, did she twig that he’d said something. “Sorry.”

  “I said you can stay here tonight.”

  She shook her head. “You have a houseful. I’ll find a hotel or…well, I guess I can’t. My credit cards and money are in the house. I’ll sleep in the car—assuming that’s not under the tree, too. I left it on the drive.”

  “What about the apartment above the shop, then?” Elliott suggested.

  Grace looked at him blankly. “What?”

  “You haven’t been upstairs there yet?”

  “No…”

  “Didn’t you see the stairs?”

  “I thought that was to the attic.”

  “No.” He smiled. “Much better. I’ll show you. Do you have the keys?”

  “Yeah, I have all my keys on the same key ring. Dad says that’s not very safe
, but, oh well.” She slid into her coat.

  As they reached the pavement, she looked at the ruins of her house. “I should be dead.”

  “But you’re not.” Elliott said softly. “Ironic—you were saved because you were in church.”

  “You do love your irony.” She pushed her hood down as the rain stopped.

  “God was looking out for you this morning.”

  “By destroying my house? That’s sure a funny way of showing it.” She sighed.

  Elliott looked at her seriously. “Mysterious, not funny.”

  She sucked in a deep breath and huffed it out. “I need to find a shop that’s open before I do anything else. I need milk, bread and so on.”

  “There’s no need, just give me a minute. I’ve got stuff you can have to tide you over until morning.” He vanished back into the house.

  Grace walked along the pavement and glanced around before ducking under the police cordon. She walked down her front path where the huge tree lay square across the house. It had crashed through the roof and into her bedroom leaving a large, roof to ground crack on the outside corner wall.

  She glanced around again, but everyone had gone. Using her key she opened the door—if she could only get her purse and her computer she’d feel much better. Branches and debris filled the hall. A broken picture lay on the carpet. She bent and retrieved it. She’d made this one for Aunt Tilja when she was ten.

  The house creaked around her as the tree settled. Yes, the floor had a definite slope to it. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Elliott had. What else had he noticed that she’d just assumed was a quirk of the house she’d loved so much as she grew up.

  Grace climbed over a branch and pushed at the bedroom door. It was stuck fast. She pushed harder. The house groaned as the door moved. Bricks cascaded down, dust rose. She raised her hands to protect her head and let out a scream.

  5

  Elliott pulled Grace backwards out of the house and held her tightly. Dust poured from the door as something inside gave way. The woman was mad. No, more than mad. Maybe even clinically insane. Why else would she go inside a wrecked building after being told not to do so? But then she was a woman, and women were complex creatures.

  “What are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  Grace’s face was lined with dirt and her dark hair white with dust and debris. “I need—”

  “You need to stay out of there until it’s safe,” he hissed. “If I hadn’t seen you go in there…You have no idea what could have happened, do you?”

  “I have no clean clothes,” she told him. “I have nothing.”

  “You could have died, Grace. Rules and crime scene tape are put in place for a reason, not so people can ignore them and do what they want.”

  Further crashing came from inside the house, and Elliott backed her up the path towards the safety of the road.

  “Elliott, that crack…” she whispered.

  “Which one?”

  Grace pointed to a huge fissure in the side of the building. “It’s the same place as the one inside that I filled. I could get my hand it in before I fixed it. The floor is sloping…” Her face worked madly. “Elliott, what do I do?”

  “You have something, a rental, friends, family. We go over to the flat above the shop and get the heating on for a start. Then we worry about everything else.” He led her away from the ruins of her house, to the safety of the florist’s across the road.

  Her fingers trembled too much to unlock the door.

  “Here, let me.” He gently pried the keys from her fingers and unlocked the door. The alarm started beeping. “What’s the code?”

  “Five four seven one.”

  He deactivated it. “There’s a door at the back of the kitchen. There is also one around the side of the building if you didn’t want to go through the shop. This is the key for that door.”

  She looked almost blankly at him. “Oh, right. I’d wondered what that opened.”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t explored it.” He led her into the kitchen and opened the door.

  “Thought that was just the attic,” she whispered.

  Elliott flicked on the light. A steep flight of stairs lead upwards. “After you.”

  Grace climbed, trailing her fingers along the wall. “It’s not damp.”

  “A house should never be damp. Cold, maybe, but not damp.” He flicked on the light at the top of the stairs. “I renovated this place for Tilja about three years ago. Completely redid the whole attic.”

  She moved over to the window, pulling the curtains. “Paper’s pretty.”

  He opened doors off the landing. “You have a kitchen, two bedrooms, bathroom and lounge. This is the kitchen, fitted oven, dishwasher, washer dryer, loads of cupboards and a fridge freezer.” He smiled as Grace wandered around, opening cupboards and drawers.

  “I had no idea this was here. I mean, I knew there was an attic room with a bathroom, but it was always storage.”

  “Tilja rented it, but the last tenant moved out over six months ago. She didn’t get around to finding a new one before she got sick. Just as well really, as it means you can move straight in.”

  Grace moved into the next room, a small lounge with sofa, TV and book cases. “It looks big enough to be a lounge diner, but there isn’t a table.”

  “The second bedroom is set up as a dining room right now, but you can always change that. The bathroom has a shower and bath and this is the bedroom.”

  Grace moved over to the window. Her shoulders shook as she gazed out.

  Elliott moved behind her. From up here he could see how bad the damage to the house really was. The tree had taken out three quarters of the building, and he could see it wasn’t repairable, without first waiting for and then reading the surveyor’s report.

  She turned into him, sobbing hard.

  Elliott stood there, hands by his side. He’d never known what to do when a woman cried. Awkward didn’t begin to cover how he felt. Slowly he brought his hands up to hold her. His shirt grew wet under her face.

  Finally, her sobs ceased, and she raised her tear stained, red, swollen face to him. “I’ve lost everything. Everything I owned was over there. It’s gone.”

  He pulled a hanky from his pocket and offered it to her. “We can fix the house, even if it’s a total rebuild, it’s fixable.”

  She wiped her eyes. “Well, maybe I’m not.”

  Curiosity filled him. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not fixable,” she whispered. Her shoulders slumped and her dark eyes were hollow and empty. “This was a mistake. Moving here, doing all this. Maybe your God is telling me to go back to my desk in Ely.”

  “I thought you said you gave up your flat.”

  “I’ll find a new one.” She moved away.

  “Wait until the surveyor looks at the house in the morning.” He paused. “And before you say something you’ll regret, God did not do this to you.”

  “No?” She spun around. “That storm of His destroyed my house.”

  “And let me remind you where you were at the time?”

  “Church…”

  “Exactly—in God’s house rather than yours, where you would have been if you hadn’t agreed to come with me. And you could have been killed.”

  She turned away, her shoulders shaking again. “I think you should leave now.”

  “OK.” He stood there for a moment, guilt flooding him. “Grace, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you…”

  “You haven’t. I just want to be alone.”

  “OK. Those groceries are on the side in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks. I’ll put them away.” She didn’t move or look at him.

  After a moment, he glanced at his watch. Her actions spoke volumes. He’d just make the evening service if he drove quickly. “Goodnight, then.”

  He headed down the stairs and let himself out, locking the shop door behind him. He glanced up. Her figure was outlined against the window
s, just standing there, unmoving.

  Lord, I don’t know what You have planned here, but look upon Grace with mercy. She needs You so very much, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. Help me to help her find You.

  ~*~

  Grace stood in the dark as Elliott headed down the road towards his car, no doubt on his way back to church. Her gaze fell on the lights blazing from his house and the house on the other side of hers, then on the darkness between them.

  How did she come back from this?

  No income. She’d poured what money she had saved into restarting the florist shop and patching up the house.

  No home. It lay in ruins before her eyes.

  Not much of a future. She knew precious little about running a business or flower arranging and had been struggling to keep her head above water. Now she was drowning.

  Perhaps it wasn’t worth struggling any more. Maybe she’d just let the waves take her.

  Her mobile rang and she pulled it out. “Hello.”

  “Hey, sis.” Her brother’s smile came over in his voice. “How’re things?”

  “Hi, Rick. Thought you’d be in church.”

  “Been at work since the small hours of yesterday morning. We’ve just finished so about to grab a bite to eat on my way home and fall into bed. It’s been a really long few days. But first I thought I’d check up on you and the flowers. See how the two of you are getting on.”

  “You know me and flowers,” she whispered. She tugged the curtains across the window. “Can’t arrange them to save my life.”

  “You don’t sound so good. What’s up?”

  Grace sank into a chair. “Sometimes your cop instincts are a pain, you know that?”

  “So Faith keeps telling me. But I’d prefer brotherly instincts. I’m not always on duty, you know.” His drumming fingers echoed down the line, over the sound of the car engine. “What’s up?”

  “There was a really bad storm today, and a tree fell on the house.” She choked back a sob. “I’m not hurt, I wasn’t in at the time, but there’s a lot of damage.”

  “Oh, Gracie.” His voice changed, and she could almost feel his arms coming down the phone to hug her. “Do you want me to come down? I can be there in a few hours.”

  “Nothing anyone can do,” she whispered. “I’m staying above the shop tonight.”