Through His Grace (14 page)

“Yum.” Mary took a bite of another one, leaned back and licked her fingers with satisfaction. “So either you’ve finally admitted you need to grieve like every other person on the planet when they lose someone they love or something’s happened since Back-to-School Night. Which is it?”

“A bit of both,” Grace murmured, swiping another sweet. “Do tell.” Mary pulled her feet—decked out in orange fuzzy slippers—onto the couch and made herself comfortable. “Does it have anything to do with that tall blond drink of water who keeps looking at you in church when he thinks no one’s watching?” She laughed at Grace’s thunderstruck look. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know he wasn’t just coming around for the kids.”

“Yes, it has to do with him—you can quit smiling now,” Grace admonished her friend. “Lizzie’s teacher told me she mentions Eric all the time. She got the impression…”

Mary nodded. “The same impression I did. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Yes, there is.” Grace fidgeted with the folds in the blanket slung over the back of the couch. “It made me realize just how much time the children are spending with him. I can’t expect him to keep seeing us several times a week forever.”

“I think I see where you’re going with this.” Mary frowned. “Lizzie and Jake have lost too many people they care about. I hadn’t realized how much Eric had become a part of our lives until Miss Byerly pointed it out. I can’t afford to let Lizzie and Jake depend on him if I’m not positive he’ll always follow through.” She hoped her friend would understand.

“I understand your reasoning,” Mary said, “but you can’t put that kind of pressure on a new relationship. It’s not as if you can just walk up and ask him if he’ll always be the man in your lives.” Her eyes widened at Grace’s look of misery. “Oh, Grace, you didn’t!”

“Oh, yes, I did.” She looked down at her lap. “Honesty is the only policy, and I can’t beat around the bush when it comes to what’s best for the children.”

“What did he say?” Mary snatched another chocolate and held the bag out for Grace. “Tell me everything.”

Grace retold their whole conversation and waited for the verdict. While Mary thought it over, Grace rubbed at the ache in her abdomen that had appeared a few days ago and wouldn’t let up.
Stress
, she reasoned.
And the last thing I need is an ulcer
. When Mary began to speak, she snapped to attention. She had more important—and immediate— matters at hand.

“That didn’t go nearly as badly as it should.” Mary paused. “He obviously cares for you and the kids—and he’s got that honesty thing down pat.” She winked at Grace. “He can’t make any promises about forever—and, really, what were you expecting? But he didn’t scream at the idea and run for the car. I think you’re emotionally exhausted, Gracie. I could see the instant I walked in that you’d had a good cry. Long overdue, if you ask me. We’ll say a prayer for your Mr. Nichols and let you have a good long rest. After all, tomorrow is—” “Another day,” Grace added.

“I was going to say Columbus Day, so you can sleep in or take a nap, but yours sounds more dramatic.” Mary stood up, her eyes sparkling with good humor. “But I have faith that, either way, you’ll prevail.”

“Hey, Nickels!” Chris walked toward him, wiping his hands on an oil rag. “That’s not yours.” He squinted at Grace’s sedan. “Doesn’t that belong to Grace Willard? She just had her oil changed and tires rotated here about a month ago.” “Yeah. She drove over a nail at the Curly Q yesterday. I know it’s a holiday, but I had a suspicion you’d be around here anyway.” He cast an admiring gaze over Chris’s auto repair shop. “She has custody of her cousins and can’t be driving around on this spare.”

“I heard about that. Lemme have a look.” Chris tucked the rag into his back pocket and squatted for a closer inspection. “You’ve got two options, Nickels. I can do a patch job on it until she can get in and have it replaced, or I can go ahead and replace it on your word that it’ll be taken care of.”

“Go ahead and replace it today, Chris. I’ll take care of it.”

“So that’s the way the wind’s blowin’, eh?” The mechanic shot him a cheeky grin.

“Not yet,” Nickels responded.
But soon enough, if the Lord is willing
.

“This won’t take too long.” Chris held out his hand for the keys.

“I’ll keep you company. Been awhile since I’ve seen you.” “Keepin’ busy.” Chris shrugged. “There’s always something that needs fixing. You?”

“I could say the same.” Nickels grinned. He grabbed a pop from the nearby ice chest and passed it to his friend. “I don’t suppose you want to come to the Curly Q for lunch?”

“Sounds good to me.” He rolled over a new tire. “I need to bring Sondra some pasteurized milk.”

“She’ll appreciate that. It’s good of you to take care of her and the baby while you’re picking up the eggs for the food bank. Would you mind if I hitched a ride with you back to the Curly Q from the Willards’?”
Best if I give Grace some space for now—honor her wishes
.

“No problem,” Chris said, hefting the tire into place.

Not a single problem at all, if I have my way
.

“Wake up, Auntie Grace!” A small hand pushed at her shoulder.

“Five more minutes,” she pleaded, the pain in her abdomen unrelenting.
Oh, Mary, if you only knew I tried to sleep in today!

“You wouldn’t let us stay in bed on the first day of school.” Lizzie reminded her that turnabout was fair play and seized her blankets with the ruthlessness of an invading army.

“All right, I’m up.” Grace swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked at the kids, eyes bleary. Despite having cried herself to exhaustion last night, she hadn’t slept well. The thudding pressure she’d dealt with for the past week had focused to a sharp spot of pain yesterday morning before church then switched back to a generalized ache after lunch. The discomfort hadn’t let up since then.

Lord, I don’t know what this feeling is. I’d thought maybe I was so anxious over talking things out with Eric that I was having physical symptoms, but that theory doesn’t work anymore. I’d call the doctor, but she’ll be out of the office today—like everyone else
.

“Get dressed, Auntie Grace!” Lizzie pulled open her closet door.

“I’m going to get you guys some breakfast then take a quick shower while you eat it,” Grace decided aloud. She rubbed at her right side, which felt a little worse than the left, and made her way downstairs. Jake and Lizzie danced around her as she poured some cereal and milk and started peeling a banana for each of them.

“I won’t be long. Lizzie, you know what to do.” Grace headed back toward the stairs. Lizzie knew to watch Jake, not open the door to any strangers, let the answering machine get any phone calls, and call 911 if she or Jake were hurt. They’d been through the routine dozens of times to make absolutely sure.

Why is it so hot in here?
she wondered, stepping to the thermostat.
Seventy-eight degrees? That can’t be right
. She turned on the air conditioner, making a mental note to have a repairman come out. Winter wasn’t that far away, and a heater on the fritz certainly wouldn’t do.

The short shower made her feel slightly better. She tugged on a blue jean skirt and button-down top before seeing about some breakfast for herself.
Maybe having something in my stomach will make me feel better
.

She was finishing some oatmeal while the kids watched cartoons when she began thinking about the day.
Maybe I’ll drop off the kids with Uncle Carl and take Mary’s advice to relax awhile
. It was a good plan except for one thing—her car had a flat down at the Curly Q.

Eric said he’d put on the spare and bring it back, but he hasn’t stopped by yet. I’ll have to get that fixed today so we aren’t driving around unsafely. So much for resting up
. A wry grin painted her features. After the way she had all but shut the door in his face last night, she had no right to expect him to do anything for her. She’d have to call the Curly Q.

She pulled out her phone file and flipped through it until she came to the entry simply titled “Eric.” The phone wasn’t on its charger. Grace was hunting it down when the doorbell rang. She changed directions so she could answer the door but was brought up short by a streak of pain in her midsection that almost doubled her over. When it passed, she straightened up.
That does it. Tomorrow I make an appointment to see the doctor
, she told herself as she opened the door.

“Hello…” Her voice trailed off when she found no one standing there. Her car sat in the driveway, with a good tire replacing the flat from the previous evening.

He came back. Her heart sank. He came back, and she hadn’t answered the door. What a selfish, snooty woman he must think she was, skulking around inside rather than facing him. And he’d already gone.

Now the pain in her abdomen seemed a mere echo of the ache in her heart. She would have to call him to explain. But explain what? That she’d had a tummy ache? Grace shook her head and closed the door.
Well, at least now I can call Uncle Carl and get that break. Now where did I find that phone?

“Auntie Grace, it’s cold in here.” Jake came into the hall, his arms wrapped around himself.

“Are you sick, honey?” How could he be cold when the place was practically a furnace? Grace stooped to feel his temperature with her hand. His forehead did feel cool against her touch. Yet another reason to call the doctor. She straightened up, determined to get Jake a jacket. The move was too sudden. Pain streaked through her midsection.

Oh, Lord
, she prayed as she clutched the doorframe.
What’s happening to me?
She took a step toward the phone, the pain intensifying until she was doubled over, gasping for breath.

“Auntie Grace! Are you okay?” Jake shook her shoulder.
“Lizzie!
“ he hollered, taking off down the hall as fast as his little legs could carry him.

“Call for help,” Grace barely whispered. It was her last thought before the blackness closed in.

She must be even more upset than I realized
. Nickels stood on her doorstep, waiting for her to open the door and smile at him. Slowly he came to terms with the fact that when she said she and the kids would only see him on Sundays she meant it. Bewildered and frustrated, he dropped the key through her mail slot and went back to Chris’s car.

Lord, I’ve botched things a bit, but it’s nothing beyond Your ability to fix. I think it’s best to abide by Grace’s decision for a while—not push her. Please work in her heart so she’ll be ready for me when the time is right
.

Chris didn’t say a word as he got in, just drove straight back to the Curly Q. Sometimes anyone could understand there was nothing to say. Nickels gave Chris a curt “thanks” and headed for the bunkhouse. He needed time alone with the scriptures and his thoughts. He pulled out the now-worn Bible Miller had given him so many years ago and prayed.

God, bless my time of study to grant me peace and understanding. I know I need to rely on Your plan and purpose for me. How do I make Grace see that she needs me as much as I need her?

In the midst of his meditation his cell phone rang. His first inclination was to switch it off, but he noticed the identity of the caller.
Grace
. He immediately answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Nichols?” Lizzie’s voice, reed-thin and shrill, piped into his eardrum.

“Yes, Lizzie.” He tamped down his irritation. “What is it?”

“We don’t know what to do. It’s Auntie Grace. She fell down by the door and won’t wake up. We need you.”

“I’m coming, Lizzie. You stay by your auntie Grace, all right?” Nickels tore out of the bunkhouse like a man aflame. “I’m going to hang up now so I can call an ambulance.”

“Okay,” Lizzie promised before hanging up.

Nickels yanked his seat belt on and dialed 911 simultaneously.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher sounded far away—too far away for Nickels’s peace of mind as he sped down the road.

“Grace Willard has collapsed and lost consciousness. I need a paramedic right away!” He rattled off her address.