Saving Gracie Part 33

Quinlan stared at the iPod, The Supremes blaring through her ear buds.

Think it o-o-over.

Back in her living quarters later that evening, Quinlan spent time fiddling with the media device. Her first attempt at saving Gracie had gone all wrong. Maybe she shouldn't have blown off the RR&P last night. She needed a plan. Pus.h.i.+ng the iPod aside, she repositioned her tacky Catwoman gla.s.ses and wrote "Saving Gracie" across the top of a piece of paper. She stared at the words.

"What do I want to save her from?" Quinlan pulled off the gla.s.ses and rubbed her eyes. As the adult Kathryn, her life and mindset were controlled and clearly defined. She could spit out a course of action without blinking an eye. Now she felt more like the younger Kathryn-helpless and completely unsure of herself. Feelings she had been desperate to bury.

As a young child, Kathryn knew she wanted to be a teacher. Her dolls and stuffed animals were her students. "Stop that nonsense," her mother would say. Kathryn compensated by taking "the cla.s.s" on a field trip in the backyard.

Kathryn's innate curiosity about life earned her the nickname "Little Question Mark" by her father. The closeness of their relations.h.i.+p irritated her mother, who referred to Kathryn as a "mistake." Years later, when she and Ruth were in their teens, Ruth told of the still-born baby boy her mother had delivered only a year before Kathryn was born explaining, but not excusing, why she'd always been a disappointment to her mother.

Along with her pa.s.sion for learning, Kathryn loved music. Lying in bed at night she'd wail away, singing to the shadows on the wall from the tree outside her window; her audience. That is, until her mother would yell from down the hall to "stop that noise." In fifth grade, Kathryn's music teacher, who she adored, pa.s.sed her by for selection in the school choir. It was then she realized she couldn't sing. Well, of course she could sing, but not on key, which turned out to be a very sad day in her little girl life.

Kathryn excelled at school, despite her mother's scorn, and earned a partial academic scholars.h.i.+p her senior year to Sam Houston State Teacher's College in Huntsville. She was one step closer to fulfilling her dream...to teach.

During Christmas break of her junior year, Kathryn and Tommy, her college sweetheart, announced their engagement. Her mother, claiming Kathryn didn't have the sense G.o.d gave a goose, vehemently opposed the engagement. Undeterred by her mother's blatant slur of protests, or maybe because of it, Kathryn talked Tommy into eloping during spring break that same year.

All Kathryn's promises to continue her education fell on her mother's deaf ears. She even went as far as refusing to acknowledge Kathryn's existence. Her mother claimed she only had one daughter, Ruth, who often slipped away from her college campus in Nacogdoches for visits. Kathryn's father made the hour drive from Houston to Huntsville each week to meet his daughter for lunch. She had every intention of keeping her promise about her education. However, she was ill prepared for the unexpected pregnancy that shortly followed.

Guilt and disappointment from her mother manifested into horrendous morning sickness and serious depression. Kathryn barely completed her spring semester with a 1.4 GPA, which meant she lost her scholars.h.i.+p. The pregnancy, a difficult one, had her confined to bed rest for the remaining four months.

Grace Elizabeth arrived April 4, 1964 after 36 hours of labor. The difficult delivery resulted in severe hemorrhaging, threatening Kathryn's life. She underwent a complete hysterectomy two weeks shy of her twenty-first birthday.

After her recovery Kathryn took a job at a local flower shop to help pay medical bills while Tommy worked a full-time job and attended night cla.s.ses. Luckily, his parents lived in Huntsville and cared for Grace, sparing them the additional expense of daycare. Kathryn never returned to school.

That dismal period of her life she referred to as "her darkness." She refused to speak of it to anyone. When Grace was a year old Kathryn tried therapy for her lingering depression, but deemed it to be a waste of time when the therapist brought up painful issues surrounding her mother. Kathryn devised her own means of recovery, a survival plan which involved taking control of her life...and that she did. As long as she was in control, she couldn't be hurt. She buried her pain. Deep.

Kathryn placed Grace as the focal point of her world. She wanted to do all the things for Grace her mother had never done for her. Kathryn hated the helplessness, desolation, and vulnerability she'd felt during "her darkness" and vowed never to feel that way again. So she grabbed the reins of her life and rallied, not quite realizing she'd harnessed the lives of Tommy and Grace also.

She knew Tom was aware of her debacle and silently breathed a daily thank you for him never bringing up the subject. And Grace would never know. Kathryn's life-long desire of becoming a teacher ended.

A tear splashed onto the notepad. She reached for a Kleenex and attempted to wipe sadness from her eyes. It had been ages since she'd thought about that painful time long ago. Why now? Quinlan felt a weariness penetrate her bones. Her cell phone jangled in her pocket and she checked the caller ID. Ruby.

"Hi Ruby," Quinlan's tone was flat. She was in no mood to talk to anyone.

"Hey," Ruby began. "You were supposed to call me today for your weekly contact report."

"Sorry. It was a busy day." Quinlan's voice was close to a whisper.

"Yeah, I figured. That's why I called. Didn't want you to get in trouble or anything," Ruby said.

"Thanks." Quinlan truly felt grat.i.tude, though she knew her voice lacked sincerity.

"So. How's it going?" Ruby seemed oblivious to Quinlan's affect.

Quinlan could hear familiar gum smacks through the cell phone. "Fine," she answered. "Everything's fine." She felt so tired.

"Hey, have you seen Eddie?"

"A couple of times, yes," Quinlan answered.

"You know he got promoted, don't you?"

"No!" Quinlan sat up with more strength than she knew she had. "Oh, I'm so glad." Finally, something to brighten her mood.

"Yeah, he got his green parachute and everything. Thinks he's something special," Ruby said. "Polishes that badge of his like he's the new sheriff in town."

"You be nice to him," Quinlan instructed. "He's had a rough time."

"Yeah, whatever," Ruby said. "Hey. The reason I called is because, as your contact person," Ruby's voice dipped into serious for a nano-second and then reverted back. "I've got questions to ask you, okay?"

"Can it wait till tomorrow? I've had a long day." All Quinlan wanted was to get into bed and try to recoup her energies for tomorrow.

"Uh, excuse me...no."

Quinlan sighed. "Okay, go ahead."

"Let's see."

Quinlan waited impatiently while Ruby thumbed through her notebook.

"Oh yeah, here it is," Ruby said. "You ready?"

"Yes!" The woman's intentions were good, but geez, she had one nerve left and darn if Ruby wasn't sitting on it.

"Okay, okay. Keep your shorts on." Ruby cleared her throat. "The question is...what have you learned?"

Ruby's words had taken aim and hit the bulls-eye pinned to Quinlan's heart, and all the heaviness tonight. She felt her eyes well again. "I don't know how to answer that," she said. The truth.

Ruby's chomps fell silent for a moment before she replied. "You don't have to."

"What do you mean?" Quinlan asked.

"You don't have to," Ruby said.

"But you just asked-"

"They know."

"Who knows?" Quinlan's mind felt mushy.

"The Council. They already know what you're going through."

"But how?"

"I don't know," Ruby replied, drawing out the response. "I don't make the rules. I'm just givin' you instructions. Ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Quinlan sunk back in her chair. "I see." Her words were barely audible. "What is the next question?"

"That's it," Ruby said.

"That's it?"

"Yep. Isn't that enough?"

"Yes, quite." Quinlan thought about sleeping in her clothes. None of this was turning out how she planned.

"Over and out," Ruby said. "Oh, by the way, Meghan says howdy."

Quinlan doubted her sister had ever used the word howdy. "Give her a hug for me, okay Ruby?"

"Sure thing. Take care."

"You too." Quinlan pushed end, sending Ruby away.

CHAPTER 39.

GRACE.

"What do you know?" Grace sniffed the fall air. Since Adam left for Beijing life had kept her so busy she failed to realize the change in seasons. It wasn't the temperature drop, which was only slight, or even the leaves collecting in the yard, but more the hazy stillness in the late afternoons. Houston summers were brutal and long. Fall, her favorite and shortest season, could come and go in hardly more than a weekend.

Grace didn't have many fall decorations, but enough to make the effort up to the attic late Friday afternoon worthwhile. She found the container nestled next to the dozen or so boxes filled with her mother's belongings. She sat back on her heels and chewed on her little finger before pulling the fall box and three of her mother's to the attic opening.

"Josh," she yelled down the pull-down stairway. "I need help with some boxes. Get your sister, please."

By sheer force of necessity Grace had learned to put a command in her voice. Without Adam around she didn't have the luxury or time to meekly ask the kids if they minded giving her a hand. A totally new concept she had learned-asking for what she needed, a huge move for her. Adam would be proud...so would her mom. She would, wouldn't she?

Grace relayed the boxes to Josh who, in turn, pa.s.sed them down to Hannah. Riley, who insisting on being in the middle of everything, had managed to wiggle between Hannah and the attic ladder. Josh had nicknamed their loveable mutt Snoop Dogg, with good reason.

"Thanks for helping," Grace signed to Hannah. "Thank you," she yelled at Josh who had already retreated to his room.

Hannah noticed the boxes labeled 'Mom.' "Grandma?"

"Yes," Grace said.

"Can I look?" Hannah asked.

"Maybe tomorrow, okay?"

Hannah nodded and headed back to her room.

Grace easily carried the fall box downstairs, the lightest of the four from the attic. With minimal effort she hung an autumn adorned wreath on the front door and halfway arranged the centerpiece and votive candleholders on the dining room table. Digging through her mother's sideboard she found brownish-orange votives and dropped them in the candleholders. Only mom would stock season-appropriate candles.

She stepped back to survey her work. "Not too bad." Her mother would probably rearrange it, but it would do.

The following morning Grace stirred her first cup of coffee and checked her to-do list.

Two chapters-read and outline Boxes upstairs Wash clothes She braced her chin with one elbow on the counter and ran her finger around the rim of the coffee cup. Thoughts of last night's strange dream filtered in.

It must have been a dream, but it all seemed so real. She had clearly heard her mother singing. Although it was no secret her mother couldn't carry a tune in a bucket when she was alive, the beautiful and perfectly pitched voice in her dream definitely belonged to her mother. No doubt. And the song: You are my suns.h.i.+ne, my only suns.h.i.+ne.

You make me happy, when skies are gray.

You'll never know dear, how much I love you.

Please don't take my suns.h.i.+ne away.

After the singing something startled her awake. She sat completely still, taking in the feeling around her. There was nothing visible except the beam from her digital alarm clock...and a sense, a strong sense of her mother's presence. She remembered sitting in the darkness, basking as the comfort and warmth wrapped around her like a plush fleece blanket. At some point she fell back into a deep sleep.

Grace finished her second cup of coffee just as a sleepy-eyed Hannah walked into the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around her mother, she dropped her head on Grace's shoulder. Grace reached up to smooth the unruly ma.s.s of hair and felt the warmth of her daughter's slumber-ridden body.

Hannah gently pushed away. "I smell," she sniffed, "cinnamon rolls?" She peeked in the oven. "My favorite!" Pulling milk from the refrigerator, she dropped on the stool next to Grace.

"You sleep good?" Grace signed.

Hannah poured milk into a gla.s.s and took a sip before replying. "Had dream. Grandma."

Grace's spine straightened. "Really?" She waited a moment. "About?"

The buzzer sounded, breaking Grace's concentration. Pointing to the oven, she rose to silence the intrusion. Placing the round cake pan on a trivet in front of them, she spread icing over the hot rolls. "What was your dream about?"

Hannah ran a finger through the white goo. "Don't remember," she shrugged. "But Grandma was in it." She pulled away the first cinnamon roll from the pan and took a bite. "You sleep good?" A new tradition between the two of them since Adam had been gone.

"Okay," Grace said.

"You dream?" Hannah asked.

Strange we both had a dream about Mom. She pulled a hot sticky roll toward her and took a bite. "It's silly." Grace's turn to shrug. "No big deal."

Hannah hit the counter twice. "What?"

Grace wiped icing from her chin. "I heard someone singing an old song. I thought it was your grandma, but she couldn't sing, remember?" She gave Hannah a smiley face.

The raised eyebrows from Hannah was code for, "and the name of the song?" Grace squirmed in her seat, crossed and uncrossed her legs. She scratched her nose and signed, "You Are My Suns.h.i.+ne."