Grace of Day - BK 4 of the Grace Series

by S. L. Naeole

  “Sorry, little guy,” I told him as I put his wet clothes into his hamper and threw his diaper away. “I thought your mom was in here.”

  I limped towards the door and eased it out of the wall, and stared, astounded, at the evidence that the door was, indeed, locked. “You couldn’t have locked it from the inside, so who did?”

  Leaving bloody footprints behind me, I headed to Dad’s door. I knocked, but no one answered. “Dad? Janice?” My hand grabbed the doorknob and turned it with ease, the door swinging open quietly into the darkened room.

  “Dad? Are you awake?” The clock on the bedside table glowed a bright red, revealing that it was only ten minutes past nine. I reached for the light switch and flicked it, filling the room with soft light that illuminated the empty bed.

  The bathroom door was closed, but a light was on beneath it. Gingerly, I padded towards it. I raised my hand to knock on the door but saw that it was open, a sliver of bright, white light peeking through. Gently, I pushed the door open. The bathroom, too, was empty.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  I left the room and made my way down the stairs. I reached for the switch at the base of the steps, flipping it on and watching as the living room was lit up.

  Every room was empty. I thought that Dad hadn’t come running to my room when he heard me screaming because he figured Robert would take care of it. Now I realized it was because he wasn’t here. But neither was Janice and I knew that she had gone upstairs.

  I heard the rattle of keys and my body whipped around to face the front door, sighing with relief when Dad walked in, a grocery bag in his hands. “Thank God,” I breathed. “Where’d you go?”

  “To the store. I told you this morning that I’d be going down after dinner to check on the inventory,” he replied as he walked past me into the kitchen.

  “Oh, I must have forgot,” I mumbled, following him and watching as he unpacked fruit and vegetables into the refrigerator.

  “Well, given the news that you got today, I don’t blame you. What’s up with Matthew? Is he hungry?”

  “No, he was wet. Is Janice bringing the rest of the stuff inside?”

  His head popped out from behind the refrigerator door and I saw the alarm in his eyes. “You mean she’s not here?”

  “No.”

  The refrigerator door slammed shut, and he rushed towards the door that led to the garage, flinging it open and sighing when he saw that Janice’s little, white SUV was still inside. “Did you check the bathroom? The doctor gave her the ok to start taking baths now that her sutures have healed.”

  I nodded. “I checked your bathroom, the hallway bathroom; Matthew’s door was locked, Dad. She must have locked it, but why?”

  “I don’t know. Did you check the backyard?”

  Together we headed to the kitchen door, Dad flinging it open and rushing outside while I flipped the backdoor light on, the yellow glow barely revealing anything outside.

  “She’s not here,” he called out before returning. “Maybe she just went out for a walk to think about things. She does that sometimes. Grace—you’re bleeding!”

  He pointed to the floor and I nodded. “I know. I broke the window in my room and then stepped in the glass,” I explained. “I heard Matthew crying and thought that was more important.”

  “Good God, Grace, you got blood all over the house! Come on; sit down at the table before you make things worse.”

  He reached up onto the refrigerator to remove the first-aid kit and began to rifle through the various bandages and pads, pulling several out, as well as a tube of ointment and placing them all on the table.

  “Give me Matthew,” he told me, holding his hands out for the baby.

  “I’m fine, Dad. He’s asleep. I just need the glass out, that’s all.”

  “You know, my eyes aren’t that good—you might have a better chance with Robert; where is he?”

  I shrugged my shoulders and looked away as a knowing look crossed over his face. “You made him angry again, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I answered glumly.

  “Sometimes I’m glad that he’s the one you’ve chosen, Grace. Only an angel could have the patience to be with you,” he mumbled before he sat down and began his ministrations.

  I sat quietly while he clumsily removed shard after shard of glass from my foot. I flinched when he had to dig around to reach a deeply embedded piece, but stayed silent, choosing instead to focus on the picture of Janice and Matthew that was held onto the refrigerator by a magnetic frame.

  The touch of something cool and wet rubbed against the bottom of my foot, and then the stinging began. Once more, I flinched, but again I remained silent, not wanting to disturb the baby. Dad began to smear what I assumed was the ointment on the sole of my foot before he wrapped it up in gauze and pads, finishing it off with some surgical tape.

  “Your right foot’s gone through some hell this year, hasn’t it?” Dad remarked as he lowered my foot to the ground and began gathering up the wrappers from the gauze and pads.

  “Nothing it can’t handle,” I joked.

  “Yeah, well, it’s handled it very well…it’s handled everything very well. Your mom would have been so proud…of your foot.”

  I looked at his face and saw the sullen look that had taken over his features, his eyes turning glossy as his gaze rose to meet mine. “Dad…”

  “I’m sorry, Grace. If I’d been honest with you from the beginning maybe none of this would’ve happened-”

  My head swung from side to side in denial. “Dad, stop. If you had told me about Mom and about you, I probably wouldn’t have believed a single word of it. And even if I did, it wouldn’t have stopped me from meeting Robert.”

  “I should’ve left this damn town after your mother died. I should’ve just taken you back to California when I had the chance…”

  “Dad, Ameila would have found us no matter where we were; you know that. How…how could Mom say that she loved me when she knew she was only having me so that I could die?”

  Two hands gripped my arms as dad brought his chair closer to mine. “Grace, your mother loved you. She loved you so much, from the moment she knew she was gonna have you.

  “She never stopped talking about you. She would talk to you while you were inside her. She knew you were a girl from the very beginning, and named you before I even found out: Grace Anne. When she was four months pregnant, she told me that your eyes would be brown, and that you’d have a dimple. She said you loved listening to music. It didn’t matter what it was, your heartbeat would just slow down and you’d simply relax in her belly. She called you her peace.

  “When you were born, that was the only time I’d ever seen her frightened; she didn’t want anything to happen to you. Her doctor did a c-section, just like with Matthew only I didn’t pass out. And when they handed you to me so that I could show you to your mom, she just cried and cried. She was so happy to see you, so happy to finally have you in her life. I’d never seen her that happy before; you were everything she ever wanted.

  “I asked her about Sam but she told me not to worry about him. She said that everything was going to be fine because you were here. I believed her then, and I still believe her now. Every single time I felt like everything was falling apart, that things were just too chaotic to deal with, you were there to make things okay, even if sometimes you’re the reason for the chaos to begin with.”

  I laughed, startling Matthew whose hands rose up in angry little fists, mad at the disturbance. I patted his back and bounced him to help ease him back to sleep as dad continued.

  “When I got the call about the car accident, I knew that Samael had gotten to Abby. But I prayed to God that you were safe. I never prayed before in my life; I prayed that you were alright, that nothing had happened to you because I was prepared for the day when your mother wouldn’t be around anymore—we both were—but I never thought for even one second that you’d be taken from me, too. Abby wouldn’t have broug
ht you into this world and shared you with me if she knew you wouldn’t be in it for long.

  “Your mother loved you, Grace. She loved you so much. You were her entire world, for every single second you were alive you were what she lived for and I will never believe for a single moment that she intended any harm to come to you.”

  It was easy to believe him, the way he looked so sincere. He still loved my mother, even after learning the truth, and I envied his ability to do so. I could only compare it to the way I felt about Robert, how I had still loved him despite the deep betrayal I had felt upon learning that he had known that Sam had killed my mother, but nothing could equate the secret my mom kept.

  “Dad…why didn’t you tell me that Mom was pregnant when she died?”

  He choked on the question, or perhaps the answer that he nearly blurted out, his hand dashing out to rub Matthew’s back again.

  “Grace…your mother and I both knew that no matter how miraculous her pregnancy was, it would never come to term. Her time was limited, and she knew that she was only ever going to have you. We didn’t want to tell you that she was pregnant because we didn’t want you to get excited.”

  “So you don’t want to know why Mom needed Ameila’s help to get pregnant with me but didn’t need her help to get pregnant after that.” I asked, curious now to know how he felt about what Ameila had done.

  “No, Grace, I don’t. I knew—deep down I knew that there was no way that you were mine biologically, but I didn’t care; a father knows his little girl, and you are my little girl, Grace. However your mother was able to get pregnant that second time, it doesn’t matter anymore. The only thing that matters is that you’re here, that you’re safe—that means more to me than anything else in this world.”

  “But it’s only temporary,” I reminded him sadly.

  “Don’t talk like that, Grace-”

  “Dad,” I interrupted, “I know that you want to believe that everything will work itself out, but it won’t. You grew up around these people; you know what they’re like. They don’t deviate from their paths, from their calls. And I have my own call, Dad. I have my own call and it’s not to stay alive.”

  Dad’s face registered shock, and I felt foolish for not realizing that he didn’t know. “Oh God, Dad, I’m sorry…”

  “Why…why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I-I-I didn’t think. I didn’t think that it mattered.”

  “Grace Anne Shelley, you didn’t think that it mattered to tell your dad that you have a call all of your own? This changes everything, Grace; you realize that, don’t you?”

  “How does it change everything?”

  He reached for Matthew and took him from my shoulder. He stood up and walked into the living room. He placed the baby into his bassinet and then returned to the kitchen, sitting down and pulling his chair even closer to me.

  “Grace, if you have your own call, that means that you’re more of an angel than the seraphim have let on, and if that’s the case then they can’t let you give yourself up to Robert—angels can’t kill other angels.”

  “But I’m not an angel! I’m…I’m something else. Maybe I am one of those Nephilim things, or maybe I’m something else, but it doesn’t really matter—I’m dead either way,” I told him, my voice dripping with despair.

  “Grace,” he chastised. “You’re not Nephilim; your mom wasn’t an angel when you were conceived. If you’re like anything, it would be like Robert, and his existence is welcomed by the Seraphim which means that yours is, too. That means that Robert cannot take your life.”

  My eyes watered as I tried to explain why this wasn’t exactly a positive thing. “Dad, you don’t understand. We both can’t live. One of has to die and I don’t want to live in this world if he’s not in it with me. I watched him die twice and both times he came back because he wasn’t meant to die, and I can’t watch him die a third time; I’m not strong enough for that, and I don’t ever want to be.”

  “Grace, you’ve survived so much, you’ve cheated death over and over again—that’s supposed to mean something, don’t you see that? Don’t you see that you were meant to live?” he cried, his hands on my shoulders, shaking me gently but firmly, trying to press home his concern and his fear.

  My tears fell down my face, hot and heavy as I shook my head at his words. “I’m not, Dad. I’m not. Robert wasn’t born for me; I was born for him. I was born to die for him. I never cheated death, Dad. I never cheated him. I was waiting for him.”

  The minute the words left my lips, I realized what I had done, and my hands flew to my mouth, as though the simple act could somehow pull the words back in, erase them from dad’s memory, but it was too late. Dad’s eyes bulged at this revelation, his face paling as the truth became scars in his mind and heart.

  “Dad…” I began, but he shook his head.

  “You knew…you knew all this time what he was, and you still…you still brought him into our house. You still brought him into our lives, into your life. Why? Why would you do that? Why would you put us in danger like that? Do you know the kind of evil that he’s capable of?”

  “He’s not evil, Dad! He’s not Sam! You said it yourself, he’s Ameila’s son—he’ll do what’s right!”

  “Yes! What’s right for him! Death is the only angel who has the power to kill indiscriminately without repercussion, Grace. His reach goes far beyond human life! If Sam had killed you, the seraphim would have found him guilty of overstepping his bounds by taking what was rightfully Robert’s because when Death claims a soul, it’s his and no one else’s.

  “He’s the gatekeeper to heaven and hell; that’s more power than all of the seraphim combined! He’s not waiting around for them—they’re waiting around for him! I cannot believe this, Grace. He’s deceived you, led you to believe that he’s good. This can’t happen—you can’t marry him!”

  The acidic tone to his voice, the sheer broken spirit that spat those words out to me felt as though he had just slammed his fist into my chest. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t breathe. I just stared at him.

  “You can’t marry Robert, Grace. I won’t allow it,” he ordered.

  “Dad!”

  “No! Don’t ‘Dad’ me, not when your life is at stake. You’re going to tell Robert that the wedding isn’t just postponed, it’s called off. You’re going to end your relationship with him, Grace, do you hear me?”

  Angry. That’s what I was; I was angry. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t see anymore, Dad. I’m eighteen. I’m an adult.”

  “It wouldn’t matter if you were eighty, Grace—no one should be getting involved with Death; especially a human!”

  “Well it’s a good thing that I’m becoming less and less human the more I learn about myself then, isn’t it?” I snapped, standing up so abruptly the chair fell from beneath me. “I don’t have much time left, Dad. The call could come at any time, and when it does it’ll be stronger and more demanding than before.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked angrily.

  “Lem told me,” I answered honestly.

  “Lem?”

  “Yes, Lem. That night he and Sera were here-”

  “When did he say this? I didn’t hear him say that.”

  I sighed and felt my shoulders slump as I realized that I had dug myself into a very deep hole of deceit when it came to my father. “He shared his thoughts with me. He knew that you didn’t know about my call—I didn’t even find out until that night in the park—and he didn’t want any more secrets to get out, especially in front of Janice.”

  “You talked to Lem about this—Sam’s father—but not to me, your own dad?”

  His face told me quite clearly that he was hurt. The heartbroken expression that lined his eyes and his mouth with deep grooves hurt to see. “Dad…”

  He turned away, unable to look at me, unable to acknowledge me as my confession turned into a betrayal against him. He stood up angrily, somehow managing to avoid any eye contact with me, and
headed towards Matthew’s bassinet. He reached in and lifted his son out, gently cradling him before turning and heading up the stairs.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but what could I say? Sorry? Sorry Dad that I couldn’t talk to you about the little voice in my head that keeps telling me that I need to die? Sorry that the person I love more than my own life happens to be the one who’s going to take it because he’s Death?

  Feeling utterly useless, I turned off the kitchen light and began to head upstairs. At the third step, I reached over for the light switch. My eyes did a quick scan of the living room and then I flipped the lights off, the darkness pooling behind me and swallowing the room.

  Almost immediately, my hand flipped the switch back up, flooding the room with light once more. I rushed towards the closet door, the last thing I had seen before the lights went out. “Dad!” I shouted as I threw the door open before my cry turned into a horrified bellow that then dissolved into a whimper of dismay.

  One side of the closet held shelves filled with linens that had been moved down here while Graham had been sleeping on the couch, but the other side held a bar where winter coats usually hung during the cold season. Except it wasn’t the cold season. It was the end of spring, and there were no coats hanging up.

  Instead, Janice was dangling from a noose made from the tie of a her robe, the blue terry cloth wrap hanging open, exposing her bruised and battered body. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, a dribble of spit glistening at the corner of her lips.

  “What’s wrong?” I heard asked behind me before I was roughly shoved aside. “Janice? Oh my God, Janice! Baby, no! No, God, no! Why? Why would you do this?”

  Above us, the wails of baby Matthew could be heard but slowly faded as a buzzing began to fill my ears. I watched Dad struggle with Janice’s body, his mouth soundlessly moving, his eyes blinking away at rapid tears that fell down, landing on his shirt and darkening the fabric.

  My gaze traveled down to Janice’s hand, and I saw the glint that bounced off of the small diamond in her ring. It flashed, once, twice as dad finally got Janice down, her hand flopping onto his shoulder, the motion making the reflection look like a twinkling star. I blinked and shook my head.