Where Grace Appears

by Heidi Chiavaroli

  Amie wrinkled her nose. “You’re always so tactful, aren’t you?”

  “We’ve already had it professionally cleaned. Once you’re settled, we have an open house to plan.” Mom tucked Amos into the crook of her elbow.

  “Did we already get the occupancy permit?”

  “Final inspections should be next week. Trusting we’ll be good to go.”

  I smiled down at my son in Mom’s arms. “I noticed the sign near the street when we drove in. It looks fantastic.” The Orchard House Bed and Breakfast. It was really happening. I turned to Aunt Pris. “And how are you feeling about all this?”

  “That is yet to be determined. I like my new kitchen, but I’m still not sure how I feel about having strangers in my home.” She shrugged. “I guess it’s too late now and I’ll have to make do.”

  Amie gestured out the window to the orchard beyond. “Are you kidding, Aunt Pris? Look at this place! The bookshop, the rooms, all the work Bronson did on the orchard. It’s coming alive again.”

  “I get goose pimples just thinking about it!” Esther drew a giggle from the group.

  After a few more minutes, Mom handed Amos to me and joined Lizzie to start supper. Aunt Pris and Esther soon followed with Bronson and Amie until only Maggie and I remained.

  I lifted Amos over my shoulder, his tiny legs held curled to the rest of his body, his bottom sticking out. “Do you want to hold him?” I asked my sister, patting his back a few times.

  “Really?”

  “Of course.”

  She held out her arms and took him with the greatest of care, bouncing up and down with slight movements. She smiled at me, then gazed back at him. “He’s so small.”

  “Right? Though he didn’t feel so small making his way out, I’ll tell you.”

  Maggie laughed, stared at Amos again. “It’s crazy that I’m a mother, and yet I don’t know the experience of having a baby this small. Of carrying it for nine months, feeling it move within me.”

  “Oh, Maggie. Those aren’t the things that make you a mother.” I didn’t miss the tears at the corners of her eyes. “You are the world to those boys. I can only hope to be the kind of mother you are. And you will have your own child. I just know it.”

  She sniffed. “Thanks, Josie. But I feel like it’s never going to happen.”

  “It can take time, right? Are you at least having fun trying?”

  She laughed, shook her head. “The pressure kind of takes some of the fun out of it, I have to admit. And Josh’s still working for Tripp after school most days. He’s beat when he comes home.”

  “Have you talked to him, yet?”

  “He seems so happy with the construction work, you know? I hate to make a big deal out of it. He thinks he’s doing it for us, for our family. He talks about buying a bigger house, maybe building it himself. But all I want is him. And there’s always so much to do—the kids’ school and fundraisers, stuff at church, now the B&B.”

  “Mags, you’ve always been too hard on yourself. You have a lot on your plate. Maybe it’s time to start saying no to some things.”

  She sighed, sat in the glider, Amos snuggled in her arms.

  I sat cross-legged on the floor, my happiness dimming at the sudden turn of my thoughts. “I found out yesterday that Finn was in a skydiving accident. One of my old professors told me they don’t know if he’ll walk again.”

  “Josie…oh dear Lord, be with him.” She dragged in a quivering breath. “Do you know how he’s doing?”

  “He’s not answering his phone. I could have called the hospital I suppose, but I’m not sure they would tell me anything anyway.”

  “Life can change so fast.”

  “Tripp’s on his way down.”

  She stopped rocking. “Down?”

  “To New York. I asked him to go see Finn.”

  She leaned back on a rock. “Wow. Wow.”

  “You think that was out of line?” Maybe it’d been wrong to expect so much from Tripp. Maybe I’d taken advantage of his love, asking him to do the unreasonable. But Finn, in a hospital bed, unable to walk. How could we not do something?

  “I—I don’t know that it was out of line. I just don’t know that it’s exactly in line. Josie—are you still in love with Finn?”

  No was the easy answer, the right answer. I’d said no to his marriage proposal after all, of course I wasn’t in love with him. I was in love with Tripp.

  But I wanted to be real and honest, here and now with my sister.

  I picked at a thread of the area rug, tried to form the words in my head. “I’m not in love with him, no. But I suppose there’s still a part of me that does love him. I don’t know, it was more like infatuation from the beginning, but I fell out of that pretty quick after he cast me aside so easily.” I looked at Amos, rubbing his mittened fingers against his face. “Still, he needs help now. He’s the father of my child. That’s always going to mean something.”

  Maggie nodded. “I think I can understand that. I’ve spent a lot of time evaluating Josh’s feelings for his ex-wife. She’s dead now, which you think would make things simpler as far as my jealousy goes, but it doesn’t. She will always be the woman who birthed his children. His first love. And even though I know he doesn’t wish things to be different, it’s been hard to compete with, I guess. I can put myself in Tripp’s shoes.”

  I put my head in my hands. “I only want Tripp. But that doesn’t change that I want to help Finn. Do you think I made a huge mistake asking Tripp to go to him?”

  For a moment, the only sound that filled the room was that of the gentle glide of Maggie’s chair as she rocked my son. Finally, she spoke. “No. I think you asking shows how much you trust him, how much you care for both of them. And I think Tripp going proves he will go to the ends of the earth for you. That’s the man you want to marry.”

  I twirled my fingers in the carpet, glad to hear her say the words I’d been thinking myself. “Sis, I think it’s time to go ring shopping.”

  29

  When Finn first woke, all was fog. Slowly, the haze gave way to a dull pain in his head and neck, one that traveled to his elbow and radiated to the rest of his body.

  The steady beep of a hospital machine forced him to open his eyes. He scrambled for his last memories.

  Jumping.

  The wind carrying him away. Landing in a tree, the sharp jabs of the branches.

  Nothing is too hard for you.

  The memories jolted him awake. He was in a hospital room. He tried to turn his head to the side but a sharp, searing pain traveled up into the back of his head. He gasped, bracing himself, unwilling to do anything that might cause a repeat of the pain.

  He worked his tongue around in his mouth to wet his dry lips. So dry.

  The scent of roses wafted in the air, and then a cheery voice. A young Asian American woman with gleaming black hair and scrubs peered over his bed. “Oh my, you’re awake. I’ll be right back with the doctor, okay?”

  The next minutes were a series of questions such as his name, date of birth, what day it was. Asking him to blink, wiggle his fingers and toes. The nurse gave him a drink of water. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

  “You’re a lucky man.” The doctor, an older man with a tuft of white fluff on top of his head moved within Finn’s line of vision. “I wasn’t certain of the extent of the brain damage with all that swelling, but you still have your wits about you and feeling in your feet. All very good signs.”

  “W—” Finn licked his lips. “What about the rest of me? I’m guessing you don’t put your patients in these casts for fun.”

  “No, you’re right. We certainly don’t. You had several broken vertebrae, a herniated disk, a broken femur, broken arm, and a bad flesh wound in your side. We performed surgery on your back and it went well. I have every reason to believe the swelling has gone down but we will continue to monitor. Right now, your best bet at healing fully is immobilization, patience, and hard work.”

 
; He could heal. He’d be able to walk again, to teach again, to jump again. “How long, doctor?”

  “You’ll have to wear the back brace for at least three months. The casts for six weeks. We’ll keep you here for another several days to monitor things before we transfer you to a rehabilitation center. You have a long road ahead of you, but considering what could have happened, I’d say someone’s giving you a second chance at life.”

  A second chance at life.

  Nothing is too hard for you.

  Finn remembered the notion he’d had on his last jump—that there was more to life, that he was just on the edge of it, ready to claim it, fall into it.

  Instead, he’d fallen into a tree, landing in a medical setting for the foreseeable future. He should be grateful. Why then did despair nip at his broken spirit? How would he keep sane in the weeks ahead? Weeks that included a lot of time sitting in a hospital bed, doing nothing—something he’d never been good at.

  One of the guys who’d taken the ride of shame back down to the airport that day came by for a brief, awkward visit on the second night Finn was awake. His colleagues at NYU sent flowers and a note—a note that told him to take as much time as he needed.

  That was it.

  He’d been here three blasted days and already his mood had spiraled downward. Why had God even allowed him to live at all? Was it worth it? What did it matter? He was a vegetable. Couldn’t even go to the bathroom or use his hands. Couldn’t walk. Couldn’t do much more than listen to the television playing in the background. He’d lost his phone sometime during the rescue—probably when they’d cut him down from the tree—so he couldn’t even ask the nurse to push the button on his playlist. And while the logical part of his brain told him this was temporary, the emotional side descended into depression. What was the point of living anyway?

  Even Katrina, the person he’d been closest to, the person who’d been with him during the accident, hadn’t come to see him. Surely, she knew where he was. At first, he’d thought that perhaps she’d shared the same fate as he, but after asking one of the nurses if anyone else was injured during the jump, he’d ruled out that option.

  The reality was, nobody missed him. Nobody needed him. And isn’t that what he’d wanted so badly all this time? To be independent, free? Well, here he was. Complete freedom in a virtual body cast.

  He sighed, listened to the news anchor droll on about a fire in the south side of the city. His eyelids grew heavy, and he longed for the black hole of oblivion and nothingness—his only peace these days.

  A knock came at his door.

  He opened his eyes, silently cursing the intruder. He was downright sick of these nurses poking and prodding and disturbing his only escape of sleep. “What?”

  A clearing of a throat. Manly. He only had one male nurse, and the guy’d left earlier that morning.

  “That you, Bill? Hate to tell you, but if you’re waiting for me to turn my head and welcome you in, you might be waiting until Christmas.”

  Another clear of the throat. “It’s Tripp. Tripp Colton. Josie’s…friend.”

  He groaned. The last thing he needed was for this kid to see him like this. “Come to add another black eye to my long list of woes?” The words came out harsh, ugly, bitter. But that’s what happened when you were sleep-deprived and overdue for your next painkiller, wasn’t it?

  Tripp placed himself in Finn’s line of sight. “Look, man, I’m not here to earn my Eagle Scout badge. I’m here because Josie asked me to come. She was worried about you.”

  “She was?” Josie. Sweet Josie. He never did deserve her. What had he been thinking treating her so poorly last winter? If she wanted the baby so bad, he should have worked with her, respected her decision, not bullied her to the point of no return.

  “Yeah, she was. But I guess I’ve done what she asked. You seem right fine. I can drive the seven hours back home and tell her you’re peachy.”

  Something in him loosened. “Wait. Please. I’m sorry, don’t go.”

  Tripp stared at him a moment, walked over and looked at the flowers by the window his colleagues had sent.

  “Would have been faster to take the train,” Finn said.

  “I don’t do trains.” Tripp came back into his line of view. “My parents died on one when I was a boy.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Tripp nodded in Finn’s direction. “So what’s the verdict? You going to be able to walk again?”

  Finn smiled. First genuine smile since he’d fallen into that tree. “You’re direct. I like that, kid.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’m not a kid. In fact, I’ve acted more like an adult than you have many times over this past year.”

  Finn tried not to let the truth of the words loosen his own angry ones. Hadn’t he acknowledged his faults? Why was it so much harder to do with this kid—this man—before him?

  “How’s Josie?”

  “She’s good. Really good.”

  Of course she was. He wanted that news to make him happy, really he did, but instead it served up a feeling of deep want within him. She was fine without him.

  “That’s good. Baby’s coming soon, huh?” He should be the one to know. He shouldn’t have to ask this guy.

  Tripp smiled, and it was genuine. “He already came.”

  “H-he? He did?”

  “He. Amos Arthur Martin.” Tripp took out his phone and scrolled through, holding it up for Finn to see.

  Something broke loose in Finn at the sight of the small face, so much like Josie’s, and the dark hair, so much like his own. His son. His child. Without warning, a harsh sound bubbled up in his throat, a sob powerful and deep that released a flood of tears that shook his insides. He tried to hold them back, but they just came harder. More intense and overwhelming. As if the tears he’d shed at night all led up to this outpouring.

  He had a son.

  He closed his eyes to block out the image of Tripp standing there, shifting from foot to foot, looking nervously toward the door.

  “Do you want me to…get someone?”

  To help him stop crying? No. While his head knew he should perhaps feel some sense of shame for crying like a baby in front of this man, his heart could only welcome the release. After another moment, he gathered a few deep breaths that ended on quivering exhales. “Thank you.”

  “He’s a cute little guy, isn’t he?”

  “Blasted cute. He’s early though, no? Is Josie okay? Is he healthy?”

  “They’re both wonderful. Just got home. He was born on September 18th. 1:38PM. 8lbs, 3oz.”

  He listened to Tripp rattle the information off as if it were engraved on the back of his hand. September 18th. The same day he’d last jumped, the time of birth almost the exact time he’d landed in that tree. Somehow, it felt like more than coincidence. It felt like fate—or maybe indeed the offer of a new beginning.

  Nothing is too hard for you.

  “Thank you for taking care of them,” Finn pushed out.

  “Hey, let’s get one thing straight. I’m taking care of them because I love Josie with every breath of my being. I’m not doing it for you or anyone else or out of pity or guilt. I love Josie, and I love her son. And you better not mess with them once you’re back to walking around, got it?”

  His pride wanted to argue with Tripp, but a tiny voice inside him told him to relent. To humble himself and trust that this mess had a purpose. “Got it.”

  “Good.” Tripp hung his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans. “So what do you do for fun around here? I mean, I Spy must get a little old after awhile, huh?”

  “Funny.”

  “No, I’m serious. They roll you out and make you sing show tunes or anything?”

  “No rolling. Just sitting here, listening to the TV most of the time.”

  “That rots.”

  He sighed. “Yup.”

  The sound of a chair slid over the linoleum. “Well, I have the rest of the afternoon if you want company.”

&nb
sp; “Company?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know. We could talk. Tell me stories about you and Amos debating at school. Josie always liked those, anyway.”

  Finn bit his lip, gave himself over to the urge to open up, to be vulnerable.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather hear more about my son.”

  30

  Tripp hated to admit it, but he almost liked this version of Finn Becker—the one stuck in a hospital bed. The one not puffed up with his own knowledge and wisdom, the one humbled by the image of his son, the one who truly seemed to have Josie’s best interest at heart.

  He told Finn the details of Amos’s birth. He told him about the apartment above the bookshop where Josie and her baby would live, of the orchard beyond, the work Colton Contractors had done on the bed and breakfast. When he’d run out of things to say, Finn took over, speaking about how he’d admired Amos, how the Martin Thanksgiving had been the first he’d had since his mom had passed, how he hadn’t truly had one since his last with Josie’s family. He spoke of his childhood, of his abusive father. Tripp in turn spoke of losing his own parents, of living with his grandfather and trying to be both father and brother to August.

  The guy listened, and maybe it was that rotten psychology degree, but he even had some valuable insight that made Tripp feel as if he’d done the right thing when it came to August. The fact that Tripp had sat down to talk—that he and Finn couldn’t see each other’s faces because Finn’s neck brace forced him to look at the ceiling—made it easier somehow, almost like talking to someone on a dark car ride or spilling your guts to a priest in a confessional.

  Tripp returned the next day, an inner pulling prompting him to do so. He didn’t question it. Besides, it would surely please Josie.

  Tripp and Finn listened to the news together, talked away most of the day. Tripp even face-timed Josie so Finn could see Amos. Even as Tripp realized the weirdness of it all, he accepted the fact that he didn’t hate the professor’s guts any longer.