by J. Q. Davis
Turning Grace
by
J.Q. Davis
Copyright © 2014 by JoAnna Quintana-Davis
All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Image used under license from iStock.com
Acknowledgements
It seemed there was a point during this whole writing experience where I often times wondered if I would ever see a finished product. Life has been quite a journey for me up until this point. It didn’t help that I was a fickle writer; only writing at night and when I felt in the mood.
However, along the way, I managed to learn just how much I loved writing. How much it came naturally to me. How much it meant to me.
I wouldn’t have had this epiphany without the support and motivation from my family and friends. So here are some thank yous:
A thank you to Mom, Vito, and Daddyo. If it wasn’t for the determination you have instilled into me my whole life, I wouldn’t have even wrote a book. Thank you for being amazing parents.
A thank you to my beta readers, oPsychoKittyo (Samantha Demarco), NoAimPlzDontMov (Paul Scott), and VoidBerserker (Shane Sizemore). I honestly didn’t even know what a beta reader was. But after finally finding out, and meeting you wonderful people on the World Wide…Xbox, I knew ya’ll were the ones for the job. Thank you for taking the time out of your own busy lives to read my book, offer your feedback, and keep me sharp. And most importantly, thank you for your friendship. Our late night chatting and killing zombies really paid off!
A thank you to my sister, Punky (Ariana Sparacino). Thank you for the brainstorming. Thank you for our late night conversations that always resulted in laughing deliriously at absolutely nothing. But most of all, thank you for your honest opinions throughout this whole process. Although it didn’t seem like I appreciated it sometimes, I am grateful. It’s what sisters are for…I mean, I would tell you if your clothes didn’t match!
Last but not least, a thank you to my husband, Matt Davis. Now, I know that most authors who are married thank their spouses because they are fantastic and supportive. They are the greatest of spouses and all that other good stuff. But I promise you, I have the best husband a woman could ask for.
Matt, thank you for opening my eyes to all of the endless possibilities that are out there for me. We have accomplished multitudes of milestones together. We are a team. We encourage each other to take big leaps and conquer all. Well baby, this was one of them. And I know how cliché this may sound…but you are my rock, the man of my dreams, and the love of my life. I could not have done this without you. “You and me together, we can do anything…baby”. I love you.
Prologue
“So, is she cured, Mark?”
“Well, her condition was one that could have taken a really bad turn at any point in time. It did, but we managed to overcome it. Being that she is only five-years-old, you know children can be quite resilient when it comes to illness. It seems that she will make a full recovery.”
“Oh thank goodness! Thank you so much for all that you have done.”
“You are quite welcome, Eve. She will be able to be discharged as soon as we get some paperwork signed off by you and your husband. You know the drill.”
My husband… I have not seen him for the past two weeks. “Um, well Jack is out of town at the moment. It will just be me signing.”
“Very well. Nurse Julie will have the papers for you.”
I could not wait to get my baby home. It had been such a long two weeks. How could this have happened to my little Gracie? I almost lost her. I did lose her. Now she is cured and she needs to be home with her toys and Lucy. Oh, I just knew she missed her little puppy.
When I walked back into the hospital room my little Gracie was in, I fought back the tears. Her tiny body was lying motionless, asleep…on a bed that looked ten sizes too big for her. The nurse had already pulled out what seemed to be a hundred different tubes from her arms, mouth, and nose. Although it should not have been anything new to see, it was heartbreaking. Seeing patients in similar situations was one thing, but when it’s your little girl lying there, helpless, it was a different story.
The nurse was waiting with papers for me to sign.
“Dr. Manning, should anything go wrong, just give us a call and bring her right back.”
“Thank you so much, Julie. You have truly been a wonderful nurse to my Gracie.” I swallowed back a few tears and squeezed her hand in mine before letting go.
“Oh Dr. Manning, you are very welcome. Grace is a sweet little angel,” Julie said as she pulled the last IV out of Gracie’s arm.
I didn’t want to have to wake her. After the papers were signed, I ran to get the car while the nurses helped her to a wheelchair and met me downstairs. We laid her down in the back seat and she slept all the way home. I knew that she was still a bit groggy from all the medications she was given throughout the two-week stay. I just couldn’t wait to get her home, in her comfortable bed and around all of her familiar surroundings.
Once home, I carried her to bed, tucked her in, and she fell right back to sleep a minute later. Lucy jumped into the bed with her and Gracie instantly wrapped her arms around her. I desperately wanted her to be herself again, running around in her normal manner. Bright-eyed and long curls dancing around her face. She was such a delight. She was so fun-loving and smiling all the time. For the past two weeks, she had been so sick with fever and fatigue that I had forgotten how lovely her smile was. I was confident that she would be herself again; it would just take some time.
I thought about making homemade soup for her while she slept. My grandmother made it, my mother made it, and my sister had just recently taught me how to make it. It was basically every vegetable you can think of, boiled in chicken broth and noodles. Every winter, my mother would make a large pot, and any sniffles or coughs were instantly remedied before we could even finish a bowl. It could quite possibly cure the common cold, if you asked me.
I was sure I had everything I needed. Carrots, potatoes, onions, spinach... I was never the best cook, and Gracie was really hard to please. For being so young, she was a very picky eater. I just stuck to the normal foods kids her age ate. Chicken nuggets for dinner, Goldfish crackers for snacks. She was deathly afraid of vegetables, though. I often tried to hide it in her foods, but she managed to figure it out. She had a long life ahead of her, I knew one day she would open up and try different things.
It was so quiet in the house. I was not used to this. Gracie was always playing with noisy toys and Jack would have the television blaring with a football game.
Jack. I couldn’t think about him at that moment. I had to concentrate on getting this soup made for my Gracie. I began prepping.
Ring Ring Ring
Right as the phone rang, it startled me and I nicked my index finger while cutting the vegetables. “Shit!” It didn’t look too deep. I wrapped a paper towel around it and ran for the phone.
“Hello?”
“Oh, hi honey. You’re home. Good. I am going to come see Gracie to
morrow. Is she doing okay?” It was my sister. She and I got along really well. She was a great aunt to Gracie and Gracie adored her. When she received the devastating news that she could never bear children of her own, she became very close to her only niece.
“Hi, Megan. She is doing really well,” I said. “You can come by tomorrow. I know she will love that.”
After about five minutes of leisure conversation, we ended the call. My finger began to throb, but I paid no mind. I had to get this soup done before Gracie awoke.
When the soup was finished, I went to check on Gracie. She was still sound asleep. I fixed myself a bowl, watched a little TV, and realized I should get some sleep myself. I decided to sleep on the couch, just in case Gracie needed me in the middle of the night. Our living room was situated in the middle of the house, with Gracie’s room on one side, and my and Jack’s room on the other.
As I dozed off, I could not help but think about Jack. Why hadn’t he called? How could he just leave me with a sick child to go on a business trip? Normally, his business trips lasted about a week, sometimes a week and a half. The last time we spoke was four days ago, and I begged him to come back home to be with Gracie and I. He said he would call me back. He never did. Was he seeing someone else? I guess I could be blamed as well. Our relationship was on the rocks. His job seemed more important and he never slowed down after Grace was born. Although I had put my own career on hold to raise Grace, I guess I could have appreciated him bringing home the bread.
Just as my mind cleared and sleep was setting in, I was suddenly awoken by a sharp pain. I opened my eyes to complete darkness. The television must have been on a timer. Jack would often times fall asleep out here, mostly during our frequent fights.
As I began to shift a little to get comfortable, pressure radiated from my hand, followed by an intense throbbing. I lifted it up to my face, but could not see a thing. I sat up on the couch and leaned over to switch the table lamp on. When I turned back around, Gracie was standing at the corner of the couch with blood smeared all over her mouth.
“Gracie!” I yelled. “Oh my God, are you okay sweetheart?” I grabbed her and began searching everywhere I could to find a wound or some part of her body that was bleeding.
“Gracie! What is it? Where are you hurt?” I asked her frantically.
I could see in her eyes that she was completely frightened by my yelling. She stood still for a moment, then lifted her finger and pointed to the white quilt that was covering me. I looked down and nearly fainted when I saw that it was covered in blood. At that moment, the pain seemed to have gone from about a five to a hundred and five. I let go of her and as I grabbed the quilt to pull it off, I noticed that my left hand was drenched in blood. It took a minute for my mind to focus on something other than the crimson red when finally, I realized that my index finger was no longer there.
Chapter 1
The Date
“Gracie, hurry up! You’re going to be late for school, dear!” I heard my mom yell from downstairs.
“I’m coming, Mom! Give me a minute!” I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror. What was up with the bags under my eyes? And my hair… I briefly thought about dyeing it. My hair was easily my best feature. The long, curly, brown locks hung below my shoulders. I have had people ask me if it was real. Why would I have a wig? I’m seventeen!
I felt like I needed a change. If only I could change my boob size too. I turned to the side, revealing my small chest. I sucked in a breath of air and puffed my chest out, quickly releasing once I realized how ridiculous I looked.
“Honey!”
I took another long look and sighed. I knew that being a teenager was a time of change, but gosh I just wished I would change much faster. I never used to be this crazy about my appearance. I guess the gorgeous senior girls at my high school weren’t too reassuring in my self-confidence.
Succumbing to the usual teenage problems, I huffed out of the bathroom, grabbed my book bag, and dashed down the stairs to meet Mom for breakfast.
“Finally,” she murmured under her breath.
“Mom, why do I wake up every morning with these awful bags under my eyes?” I asked as I sat down at the table. Gosh I was so hungry.
“Let me see.” She grabbed my face by my chin and looked closely into my eyes. “Gracie, they are fine. Maybe you are just not getting enough sleep.”
“I guess. But they end up going away later on in the day. It’s been going on for a couple of weeks now. It’s just weird. So what’s for breakfast? Please tell me it’s cereal for a change,” I pouted. My mom was really big on having breakfast in the morning. She always said, since I can remember, that eating breakfast before your day starts is what gets your day started. Although I did agree with this theory, her breakfast was one that could feed a family of five. Scrambled eggs, toast, sausage links, bacon, ham, pigs in a blanket and a large glass of juice. I didn’t think there was anyone else in the world that ate that much for breakfast. But, I always seemed to eat every last bit.
“Gracie, you know you need more than just cereal in the morning, dear. Remember, eating breakfast before your day starts…”
“Is what gets your day started,” I finished, with a roll of my eyes.
“So, I have to be at the funeral home till late tonight. There is some paper work I have to get done before I go to the convention in Arizona on Halloween weekend. You can have leftovers tonight for dinner. Which reminds me, are you going to be okay while I am gone? I have never left you alone before.”
“Mom, I will be fine. I am seventeen years old. I think I can take care of myself now,” I mumbled between bites of my pigs in a blanket. “Besides, your absence is going to give me a chance to finally have that huge party I was hoping for with all the drugs, sex, and alcohol. It’s going to be great!” I cheered sarcastically.
“Gracie! That is not funny! Now finish your breakfast or you will be late. Oh, and don’t forget your lunch. You are going to love what I packed today,” she said with a glow in her eyes as she handed me my brown paper bag.
“Fine,” I pouted again before I took a bite of my eggs. The truth was that I worried about her having to work out of town. I had never been on my own. We didn’t have many visitors to the house, it was always just my mom and I. Dad left when I was a little girl, for reasons I was not completely sure of. Mom never really explained that to me, and whenever I asked she would just change the subject.
I was an only child, and to be honest I was okay with that. I had always kept to myself for the most part. I had friends; I was not some loser loner. But, I liked that it was just me and my mom. We had a great relationship.
~ ~ ~ ~
Ahh, school. As I walked up the main staircase to the entrance of my school, I remembered the first day of my freshman year. On this fateful day, there had been a dreadful thunderstorm. It ended right as I began my walk to school. However, the stairs were still wet and I just so happened to slip and fall in front of the entire school. Accidents happen, but when they do, does your skirt fly up over your head revealing the only clean pair of underwear you had that were, of course, granny panties with a huge hole in them? Well, that was what happened to me. And of course, it would not be complete without a fresh new nickname to follow you throughout the entire course of your high school career. Let’s just say, I always made sure my panties are new and holey-free.
“Hey Granny-panty! Watch out for those stairs!” And there it was. How three years had passed and anyone could remember this was beyond me. But of course, Sonny Westwood never forgot a humiliating moment in someone else’s life.
I glanced over my shoulder and there she was, surrounded by her perfect friends, wearing her perfect clothes, holding hands with the perfect guy who was running his fingers through her perfect, strawberry blonde hair. Yes, she was the most popular of them all. And although it seemed so cliché and we have seen it in a million movies, she was very real at Middleton High. Everyone swooned over Sonny Westwood. Along with all of her p
erfect physical features and perfect fashion sense, Sonny had a very wealthy and perfect family, perfect grades, and all of the perfect accessories any perfect girl would need. However, one of those perfect accessories should not have been in her possession, and his name was Tristen Miles.
“Sonny, come on. Are you ever gonna let that go?” I heard him ask as I walked by.
She giggled. “Well, that’s her name!”
I turned my head and kept walking towards my locker.
Tristen Miles was tall, with just the right balance of muscular and slim tone to his body. Don’t get me wrong, I liked “The Rock” muscles, but I would prefer a guy to not seem like he would crush me into pieces during a hug. I found it really attractive when a guy was muscular, but you could only notice it when he moved his arm a certain way.
He had longer, bed head hair. Wavy and dark. I sort of had a thing for longer hair, instead of a buzz cut. I once saw a movie where Brad Pitt’s hair was as pretty as mine. He lived on a farm and rode on horses all day, but it was hot. After seeing that movie, I couldn’t help but imagine Tristen in a cowboy hat and boots. He wasn’t as preppy as the rest of the clique, though. It seemed that he dressed for comfort most of the time with jeans and a t-shirt. Close enough to a cowboy, I supposed. He was a jock, of course. Played every sport Middleton had to offer. But swimming seemed to be his forte. Speedos…now that was better.
He and Sonny began dating sophomore year, when he transferred here from Oregon. From what I knew, his mom and dad were doctors and he was an only child, like me. I believed we had some things in common, but I never really understood what common interests he had with Sonny. Apparently, they had been off and on for, well, ever since they started dating. She would dump him, date another guy, then a week later end up with Tristen again. I couldn’t comprehend why he would even put up with her. I mean, didn’t she even understand how amazing he…
