Saving Gracie Part 36

"What Easter thing?"

"What did that mean, dying on Easter Sunday?"

"Easter Sunday?" Quinlan asked, honestly surprised.

"I'll probably never know the answer to that one, will I?"

"Honestly, I didn't know it was Easter," Quinlan said. "That morning I just wanted to wait until you left the room." She eyed Gracie and noticed a quiet strength; a calm, almost peaceful demeanor cloaked her daughter.

Grace brushed tangles from her face and rested her chin on her knees. She reached in her beach bag and pulled out the two sea beans. "Mine and yours; our gifts from the sea." She rubbed fingers over the almost identical dark brown sea treasures.

Quinlan's throat tightened, her eyes filled. Her gift sat at her side.

Dropping the twin sea beans on the beach towel Grace reached in the bag again. This time she retrieved Quinlan's spiral notebook.

"Oh no. Please don't." Quinlan felt the dread and pain of her past seep into her bones. "I never wanted you to read that." She watched Gracie flip through the notebook.

"There's so much about you I never understood, Mom."

Quinlan sat perfectly still, willing the spiral notebook to disappear. She distinctly remembered burning each page, foolishly convincing herself the memories would be erased forever.

"I never knew how hard your life was." Grace raised her sungla.s.ses and wiped her eyes. "What you had to go through. I wish you would've told me." She held the notebook against her chest.

"I didn't want anyone to know, especially you."

"It might have helped, you know," Grace said. "You always wanted me to be a teacher. I never understood why."

"I just wanted everything for you I never had." Quinlan felt a tear slip down her own cheek.

"You know the strangest thing about all this?" Grace dropped her knees to sit cross-legged, turning to an earmarked page in the notebook. Her finger stopped halfway down a page. "Here it is." She cleared her throat. "When you talked about your darkness you said you felt helpless, desolate and vulnerable." She pulled a Kleenex from the side pocket of her beach bag and blew her nose. "That's exactly how I felt, Mom. Always."

"I know that now," Quinlan said.

"I've always loved you, Mom, but I've been mad at you for so long." Grace wadded the used Kleenex and tossed it in the beach bag. "But, it's okay. I'm not mad anymore."

Quinlan's eyes and nose ran like full-blown faucets. She couldn't speak.

"I know you did the best you could. And I know how much you loved me." Grace glanced up at the sun and squinted. "But you know something?"

Quinlan shook her head, still unable to speak and on her third Kleenex.

"I've learned a few things since you've been gone." Grace's eyes grew soft. She tilted her head. "Maybe it's because you're gone I've learned this stuff." She chewed on her lower lip and then stopped. "I still feel vulnerable though-it's just not as scary as it used to be. It's not the end of the world." Grace smiled. "I thought it was, but it's not."

A while pa.s.sed before Quinlan regained her composure. Her emotions ran the gamut from relief, to sorrow, regret, and back to relief.

"I met this little deaf girl during summer camp." Grace shook her head. "She's h.e.l.l-on-wheels, but I've been making some progress with her."

"I know all about Cherry." What she wanted to add was "and I don't see anything you can do for her. You should let the Cherry stuff go, don't you think?" Somehow she mustered the strength to keep quiet.

"I found a bruise on her arm this week." Fresh tears glistened in Grace's eyes. "And the school nurse found another one on her back." Grace lowered her face to her hands, her voice becoming m.u.f.fled and painfully sad. "CPS took her."

"Oh no. I'm sorry, Gracie."

"And did I tell you I'm back in school?" Grace rested her chin back on her knees. "Yep. Forty years old and a school girl again."

Quinlan raised her eyebrows. "I heard about this."

"I want to be a special needs counselor." Grace drew circles in the sand with her finger. "Or a social worker, something where I can make a difference."

"But what about Hannah and Josh? And why would you want to work? Adam's always been a good provider." Quinlan was rambling. She grabbed her iPod and shook it. Dang thing never works when I want it to. "You need to be hearing my inspired thoughts!"

"You just noticed her quiet strength. Remember...to give back, you have to be a good listener," the voice said through the ear buds. "Hear what she's saying."

Quinlan bit her tongue, literally, working to quiet her mind...and keep her trap shut. How quickly she had forgotten.

"Much better," the voice commended.

"My life just felt so empty after you died," Grace said. "I wanted to do something useful." She reached inside the bag and brought out her mother's Gift From The Sea. "You've read this, what, a thousand times? You must know how I feel." She opened the book and read the pa.s.sage about intention and living in grace.

Quinlan closed her eyes and listened to Gracie read the familiar words. She had forgotten how Lindbergh's thoughts could float through the air with their own directional force. "You know, that's how you got your name."

"Is that where my name came from? Something else I never thought to ask." Grace closed the small worn book. "I think I've finally found my purity of intention. And you know what else? #2's gone. I'm standing on my own now." Grace laughed. "The pansy-a.s.s isn't running the show anymore."

She couldn't remember the last time, if ever, she had truly heard Gracie express what was in her heart. She wrapped her arms around her daughter. "Who's #2? And what's a pansy-a.s.s?"

Grace hunched her shoulders and closed her eyes. "Hmmm," she sighed with a long drawn out release of air. "I love coming here to talk to you. It's almost like you're sitting beside me."

CHAPTER 43.

QUINLAN AND ANGELA.

Quinlan fished out the phone jingling in her pocket.

"Report card time," Ruby said.

"Are you serious?" Quinlan's anxiety shot upward. "I'm being graded?"

"Keep your shorts on Matilda. It's just your weekly report," Ruby replied. "Geez, panic city."

Quinlan let out a sigh. "Don't scare me like that." A grade on her performance? Not something she'd want on her permanent record.

"Hey Eddie!" Ruby yelled through gum chomps. "Guess who I'm talking to?" Slight pause. "The head honcho. Yeah, el commando. Come over here. He wants to talk to ya." Ruby's laugh, mischievous.

"Ruby!" Quinlan barked. "Stop that immediately. I told you to leave that poor boy alone."

"No," Ruby said, drawing out the negative. "You told me to be nice." She let out another laugh. "And that's my nice."

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Quinlan said. "Teasing Edward that way."

"I know. It's horrible, isn't it?" Ruby's voice nowhere near serious. "But, he's so easy. I can't help myself."

Quick to shoot back, Quinlan said, "I don't see the Advisory Council finding that-"

"Okay." Ruby cleared her throat. "Enough about me."

A smile moved across Quinlan face. She'd hit the intended nerve.

"Now, where were we?" The familiar smack sounded louder than usual. "Oh yeah."

She could hear Ruby flip through her little spiral notepad.

"Question time."

Oh, not again, Quinlan thought.

"Here's the question." Ruby took on her authoritarian voice. "What have you learned?"

"You asked that one already, Ruby. Turn the page."

"I-know-that." Ruby drew out each word. "And for your information, Missy, this is a new page. New report, same question."

"What have I learned?" Quinlan searched the ceiling for a Cliff Notes answer. "How many times do I have to hear that question?"

"Got me," Ruby said. "Like I told ya, I don't make the rules." Chomp. "Hey, did you see the Sox whip the Astros?"

"The Astros didn't play the White Sox this year," Quinlan said.

"Very good! I thought I had ya for sure on that one." Ruby sounded impressed.

"So, I'm supposed to tell you what I've learned?"

Ruby switched back to her serious voice. "Actually, I think it's kind of a study question."

"Just as well," Quinlan said. "It'd take way too long to answer."

According to the Earth calendar, Quinlan figured she'd been back about a month. She'd sat through a couple of Grace's cla.s.ses, lost her voice yelling at the line judge at one of Hannah's volleyball games, and watched with shocked approval as Gracie purchased a beautiful abalone sh.e.l.l to hold the twin sea beans. She was equally impressed observing Gracie's skill working with Cherry. The child had been placed with foster parents and, according to Gracie's written report, the dark circles under Cherry's eyes had disappeared and she no longer fell asleep in cla.s.s. Her hair, once a tangled web, was reportedly well brushed and neatly pulled back into a ponytail. Her clothes, although worn, were clean and pressed. And the lethal cowboy boots had been replaced by Vans h.e.l.lo Kitty slip-ons. A marked improvement in her temperament had also been noted.

Quinlan watched Gracie's confidence and performance levels climb to incredible heights with the exception of one area...cooking: and, to be more specific, Thanksgiving dinner. Although managing to throw a meal together to keep her kids fed, which Quinlan had to give her points for, Gracie's performance and presentation of the culinary art...sucked.

Shopping for the "big" meal had been a disaster of monumental proportions. The first disturbing fact, the trip to the store didn't take place until the day before Thanksgiving, leaving Gracie with slim-pickings due to the numerous empty out-of-stock shelves. The second was Quinlan's futile attempt to unload the junk and processed food tossed in the cart, which resulted in empty arm-flapping movements like a pelican stuck in tar. She tried the mother glare, followed by the mother tone, but got nothing. And third, she used every medium in her blue iPod to prevent the most unforgivable of all faux pax...Stove Top Stuffing. Had she not taught her daughter anything? And the packaged brown'n serve rolls? All the makings for a perfect storm.

"Stupid, stupid iPod." She yanked out the earpieces, shoved them in her pocket and tried to reach Gracie the old-fas.h.i.+oned way, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Gracie, you can't serve dressing out of a box! And where the h.e.l.l is your list?" Quinlan glanced upward and mouthed a silent Sorry, I couldn't help myself. This shopping fiasco was disturbing on so many levels.

"Mom would have a coronary," Grace giggled, unloading her stash at the register. "I'm shopping without a list...I love it."

To add to Quinlan's surprise, Grace had invited people over for the Thanksgiving event, exhibiting an even higher level of self-confidence. Quinlan sat with her head in her hands when Grace brought out paper plates and plastic silverware. However the meal, to Quinlan's astonishment, turned out to be a success even though the gravy came out of a jar and the turkey and pecan pie had come from Luby's Cafeteria. A tub of Country Crock sat on the dining room table for the burned-on-the-bottom brown 'n serve rolls and the dressing...well, what could you say about dressing out of a box? The centerpiece candles were never lit and Grace, taking the seat at the head of the table, looked relaxed and happy. Everyone had a good time. How was that possible?

"It's time to go back." Quinlan heard the words in her head. Were they hers? She couldn't tell these days. If "they" wanted to get information to her it didn't matter whether the dang media device was turned on or not.

"It's time to go back." Quinlan repeated the phrase to Angela as they sipped tea in the Commons area.

"I agree," Angela responded.

"No one listens to me," Quinlan said in an Eeyore-ish voice. "I'm not needed anymore."

"Oh please," Angela said, drawing out the last word.

"Just kidding." Quinlan ran her finger around the rim of her teacup. "I just thought it would be different, that's all."

"How so?"

"Well for one thing, Kathryn got a lot more respect than Quinlan, that's for sure."

Angela raised her head and laughed. "I have to say, you are a hoot! I can't remember the last time I've laughed so much."

Quinlan's eyes plunged to her lap.

"Oh, lighten up," Angela said.

"Go ahead, laugh," Quinlan said. "I'm sure you won't be the first."

"Or the last." Angela sucked in her lips. "Sorry, honestly I couldn't help that one."

She half-smiled, half-frowned. "I never allowed her to think for herself, did I? Or fail...or even succeed."

Angela's tone turned serious. "She's found her wings."

"I know," Quinlan huffed. "Time to say goodbye?"

"Only to the physical part, remember?" Angela said. "And when you do you let go of your own 'darkness.'"

She sniffed and pulled a Kleenex from her pocket. "But what about the Stove Top Stuffing?"

Angela picked up her cup. "Yeah, say goodbye to that too."

Quinlan blew her nose and sipped her own tea, now lukewarm. Angela was right. Time to say goodbye. The realization didn't make her feel sad as she expected. Actually, it was comforting in a way. The fact Gracie didn't need her anymore was a good thing. She straightened her back and raised her eyes to Angela. "It's time to go back."