Faking grace, p.20
Faking Grace, page 20
“What is it?” She smiles. “Something juicy?”
Me and my face. “Not really. Just gossip here and there.”
“Like?”
“Some intern was let go when it came out that she had paid someone to write her college papers.”
Tessie’s enthusiasm falters. “Intern? What else?”
“The marketing director was detained for a week in a third-world country for smuggling Bibles while vacationing.”
Disgust bounds from her throat. “We’re not looking for things that martyr Steeple Side’s employees. We’re looking to discredit them. What about the porn guy? Have you listened in on any more of his conversations?”
“No.” She doesn’t need to know that the last time I was in the cafeteria at the same time as the two men, I had the beginnings of a headache and opted for a table as far from them as possible.
“And the woman whose husband has a gambling addiction?”
Fiala. “She’s still trying to convince him to get help.”
“No talk of divorce?”
“Not that I’ve heard.”
Tessie blows out a breath. “Anything on Jack Prentiss?”
In danger of blanching, I turn to the only distraction I can think of. “Over here, Woof!”
He doesn’t have the decency to acknowledge me—just lays there.
“Jack Prentiss.” I look back at Tessie. “What can I say?” How about nothing?
How about your job? You know, the one with the paycheck you cashed to make good on your bills? The one that will continue to pay those bills if you prove yourself? Well, Miss Investigative Reporter, this is it. This is what they’re looking for. In fact, it might be enough to wrap up the assignment. Enough to write your piece and get out of Steeple Side for good.
“Are you not telling me something?” Tessie’s drawl is tainted with suspicion.
Must buy time. “It’s just that I’ve yet to run across a person who has anything bad to say about Jack. He’s well liked.” Not a lie.
“So you have nothing for me?”
For her. “I’m working on it.”
“And being paid for it, don’t forget. Or that I stuck out my neck to give you this chance, and if the ax falls, it’s likely to take off my head as well.”
Doesn’t the Bible frown on indebtedness? This must be one of the reasons. “I won’t forget.”
“Good. Now I’ve got a piece to finish writing.” She pivots and then disappears inside her house.
“Come on, Woof.” I pat my thigh.
He pries himself from the ground, follows me up the stairs, and refuses to go farther. So I scoop him up and close the door behind me before depositing him on the living room carpet.
“How did it go?” I look to Grandma, who sits with her hands folded in her lap and her bottom lip tucked over the top one. “You didn’t get into it with Mom, did you?”
That lower lip remains locked in place, even as a tear falls.
“Oh no.” I drop down beside her, pull her in, and squeeze.
A shudder goes through her. “She said I needlessly worried your father, conveniently forgetting that it took him nine days to discover there was anything worth worrying about.” She heaves a deep breath. “That woman will be the death of me. And my son. No matter how hard I pray, she refuses to let go of my boy.”
The hand I pat her shoulder with freezes. I can’t believe she said that.
Eyes glittering, Grandma pulls out of my arms and throws her hands up. “For someone who doesn’t believe in God, she certainly believes in the sanctity of marriage.”
Clearly she’s been praying for divorce all these years, and that hurts. “Grandma—”
“I prayed for a godly woman for my son, and what did he end up with? Someone who stole his faith and denied his daughters a proper upbringing in our faith.”
I’m trembling. Part anger. Part ache. “We’re her daughters too, Grandma. We wouldn’t exist without her. Is that what you’d prefer?”
She jerks. “That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s how it sounds. I know you don’t like my mother, but she’s my mom. A good mom. And I love her. As for a proper upbringing in your faith, what would that be?” Don’t do it. “One that makes a person wish bad on those she’s supposed to love? That sets an example that causes those outside the faith to turn away?”
She blinks as if a blinding light has been shined on her.
You’ve said more than enough. I know, but the spring in me that’s been compressed for so long has popped. “Mom may not be the daughter-in-law you envisioned, but when it came to choosing her, Dad proved he had a backbone. Which is what you told Jem she needed—a man with a backbone, who wouldn’t allow his mother to run his life.”
She seems to be adjusting to the light, as evidenced by a decrease in the fluttering of her lids.
This would be a good place to stop. “Did you ever consider that maybe the reason Mom never investigated Dad’s faith and didn’t encourage him to continue growing in it was because of how you represented it to her?”
She gasps, and what may have been the beginning of remorse does an about-face. Firming her trembling mouth, she narrows her gaze. “Maizy Grace Stewart, you wound me.” She pokes her chest. “Your grandmother, a woman who has only ever wanted what’s best for her son and granddaughters.”
You’re already in up to your neck. What’s a little more? “Mom is what’s best for us.”
“Not if she stands between you and salvation.”
Practically over your head. I push up off the sofa. “Have you ever thought that Mom might not be the problem?”
“Are you saying I am?”
That’s water coming up your nose, in case you’re wondering. “I’m saying that your behavior toward Mom has made your faith seem shallow and uninviting. You say you believe in Jesus’s teachings, but she sees little evidence of it. Yes, you go to church. Yes, you read your Bible. Yes, you pray every night. But there has to be more to it.” I shake my head. “Even I know that.”
In a trice she’s on her feet. “And how do you know that? From attending one Christian summer camp as a teen and saying—saying!— Jesus is your Savior?”
Her dart lands to the right of the center of my conscience.
“Or maybe you learned it from that Dumb Blonde’s Guide to Christianity that you sneak around.”
This dart lands slightly left.
“Perhaps you learned it from those nice folks at Steeple Side. The ones who are in for quite a surprise when they find out you’ve been spying on them.”
Right on the line.
“Of course, you have started attending church … for appearances’ sake.”
Bull’s-eye.
Well, that about seals it for this being among my roughest days. As much as I’d like to defend myself, Grandma’s aim is too good. At best, I’m a cultural Christian. I nod. “You’re right. It’s wrong of me to question your faith.”
Her color comes down a bit.
“I’m sorry, Grandma.” Intensely aware of being a fake, I start to turn away. But there’s something I have to say for her sake and my parents’. “It’s true my faith may be little more than a prop, but it doesn’t require a mature faith to know that this thing between you and Mom is wrong and it’s hurting everyone.”
Her expression wavers.
“We’re all we’ve got. Yes, you have your dear friend Edith, but—”
She gulps air and releases it on a sob. “Oh, Maizy Grace.” Then she cannons into my arms. “Edith’s … Edith’s …”
The reason for the phone call. The reason Grandma let loose on Mom. And me.
With a pitying groan that empties all of my resentment, I pull her close. “I’m sorry. I know what a good friend she was.”
“Better than I d-deserved. I’m going to m-miss her so much.”
“I know. Let’s sit down.”
For a half hour, she wears herself out, crying and relating little things about Edith that make her cry harder. She refuses food and drink and, exhausted, asks me to help her to bed.
I tuck her in and kiss her cheek. “What about the funeral?”
She draws a strident breath. “Tuesday.”
Three days before she’s scheduled to return to Seattle. “Will you go?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard enough as it is without seeing her like that.”
I squeeze her shoulder. “We’ll talk about it later. Get some rest.”
Closing the door softly, I notice Woofer laid out by the front door. In need of a bit of cuddling, I pat my thigh.
He lifts his head, then drops his chin back to his paws.
I cross the room and halt before him. “I know this hasn’t been easy on you, but it hasn’t been easy on me either. So let’s not forget that we’re supposed to be here for each other.”
He rolls his eyes up to meet my gaze.
I drop to my haunches. “Come on. I know you can sense how conflicted I am.”
His stubby whiskers twitch.
“I’m all jumbled up.” I pat my chest and lay my hand to his back. “Feel that?”
He flops onto his side, and for a moment it looks as if he’s going to offer up his belly, but he gives me his back.
“Fine.” I straighten. “Be like that.”
I carry the phone into the kitchen and settle at the small table. Mom greets me cheerily, but there’s no mistaking the strain in her voice. “Mom, I’m sorry about Grandma.”
“Yes, lots of needless worry. That last patch of hair holding out on your father’s head? Gone. He’s completely bald.”
It had pretty much abandoned him before I left Seattle, but I give it to her. “I should have been keeping in touch with you. Had I, you and Dad would have known that Grandma was with me.”
“True. It does seem that most times when you call it’s to remind us to visit her.”
And a lot of good that does. “Sorry.”
“Well, it’s not as if you aren’t busy with that new job. And, I hope, some nice young man.”
Hope on.
“I guess the worst thing about this whole fiasco is that your grandmother should have been here during Edith’s final hours. That woman was a good friend to her.”
I draw my feet onto the edge of the chair and wrap an arm around my knees. “I think that’s why she left. It’s been hard for her to watch Edith slip away this last year, and when Edith didn’t recognize her anymore … I just don’t think she could stand to take the last leg of the journey with her, especially after it was so painful with Grandpa.”
Mom releases a breath I wouldn’t have expected her to be holding. “That was difficult. For all of us.”
Although Mom spent little time with Grandpa, as it meant spending time with his disapproving wife, she cared for him. “She’s been very lonely since, and it worsened when Edith fell ill, so please don’t be too upset with her.”
A long silence ensues, but she finally blows it off. “I’ll try. Now, your grandmother wouldn’t say whether or not she’ll be coming home for the funeral. Did she tell you?”
“She wouldn’t commit, said it would be hard to see Edith like that.”
“Well, she needs to decide soon. The funeral is in two days.”
“I know.” Meaning she ought to fly out tomorrow.
“Keep after her, Maizy, and let us know what she decides.”
“I will.”
“So how’s everything with you, outside of your grandmother’s visit?”
A little jab, but still a jab. “It’s been a nice visit. Grandma’s taken Nashville by the horns and is seeing everything there is to see.”
“And you get to be her personal tour guide. Wearing you out, I’ll bet.”
“Actually, I’m working full time at the paper now, so I haven’t been able to take her around much.”
I hear a gasp of delight, and I can almost see the long braid that trails down her back, bouncing as it does when she animates. “Full time! That’s wonderful.”
I wish I felt the same. “It pays the bills.”
“That’s all that matters.”
Is it?
“So your grandmother hooked up with a tour company?”
I smile. “More like a man.”
“What?”
“A nice elderly gentleman offered to show her the sights, and she accepted. In fact, today she attended church with him.”
“That doesn’t sound like your grandmother.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Strange. Might be Alzheimer’s …”
“Mom!”
She chuckles. “Back to you. Any nice young man I ought to know about?”
Jack pops to mind, but though it turns out he’s on the nice side and fairly young, there’s no reason to mention him. “No one.”
“Your grandmother said you’re attending church.”
I tense. What else did she tell her about? Steeple Side? “Uh, a couple of times now.”
“No harm in that. Just don’t get too caught up in it.”
“Why?”
“One Bible card-carrying member in the family is more than enough. Oh, I know you started calling yourself a Christian after that camp, but at least you had the smarts to leave it at that.”
I have no reason to be upset with her for an impression that’s my own doing, but it hurts. “So you don’t think I’m a Christian?”
There’s a long pause. “Do you want to be a Christian?”
“Yes, and I believe in Jesus even if I haven’t done much with Him all these years.”
“Meaning you want to do something with Him now?”
I consider the Bible I have yet to take seriously, the cross necklace and earrings, and lastly Steeple Side. No, not now. But soon. “I’m tired of just saying I’m a Christian. I want something more.”
“Well, tell me when you find it, and we’ll talk about it.”
That surprises me, as I was wincing in anticipation of her giving the leaky faucet a hard crank. “I’ll do that.”
“Your father just walked in. Would you like to talk to him?”
“Yes. I love you, Mom.”
It takes five minutes to assure Dad that his mother is fine, but when it comes to the matter of Grandma attending the funeral, Dad’s decided. “I’ve made all the arrangements to fly out first thing in the morning to bring her home.”
“You have?” I imagine Mom in the background, mouth opening and closing.
“Yes. If not for Edith’s passing, I still wouldn’t know Grandma had disappeared. That’s not right. God knows she’s a handful—”
He said “God,” but does he really mean God?
“—but I’ve neglected her for too long.”
Though I long to ask him how he’s going to handle this with Mom, now isn’t the time. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“I knew you would be.” I hear a smile in his voice and hope it won’t be dislodged easily when he gets off the phone. “Have your grandmother packed and at the airport at two tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll catch the next flight back. I’ll e-mail you the flight information.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
I set down the phone and throw my arms wide in thanksgiving. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way … should have been harder … more conflict ridden…
My arms falter at the reminder that Grandma has no idea of Dad’s plans. Meaning there’s still room for conflict.
I hesitate, as all cultural Christians probably do, then sweep up the cross necklace from the table and drop to my knees. “God … Jesus … whichever One’s listening … maybe both … please give Grandma a nudge. And Mom …” I sigh. “Help her to accept Dad’s decision.
“I’m praying for Jem too, and Linda and her son, and Fiala and her husband, and Iris who spoke so highly of You. Even that angry man who wanted sugar. In fact, all of those homeless people. Please help them to recognize Your blessings. And me too.”
SEVENTEEN
My sleep is disjointed. So is Grandma’s, as evidenced by the rustling that sounds from the bedroom throughout the night. Clearly the only one getting any good sleep is Woofer. He remains camped out by the front door, having refused my invitation to curl up on the sofa despite my assurance that things would soon return to normal.
As the first morning light creeps past the parted curtains, the bedroom door opens and Grandma’s slippers whisper into the room. “You awake, Grace?”
I reach for the pull chain on the table lamp. A moment later we blink at each other as we adjust to the glare.
“Want to sit down?” I swing my feet to the floor.
She eases down beside me. “I don’t know what to do. I should go back for Edith’s funeral, but I don’t want to. It would be too lonely.”
“What if Dad went with you?”
With a puff of disgust, she shakes her head. “You know he won’t.”
I touch her veined hands in her lap. “I talked to him last night, and he’s flying in to bring you home for the funeral.”
There’s the conflict—pride bashing against joy—visible in the smile struggling against a frown to come out on top. Neither does. Mouth flatlining, she peers at me. “Is he doing it because you asked him to?”
“No, he’s doing it because you shook him up when you left without a word. And he loves you.”
Hope flits in and out of her eyes. “Are you being honest?”
“Yes.”
“What about Lily? She can’t be happy about this.”
I squeeze her hands. “Dad loves her too, but this is about you. About getting you back and being there for you when you tell Edith good-bye.”
Her eyes brighten and her hands quiver, but a determination rises in her eyes. “It’s rather presumptuous of your father to think I’ll just up and rearrange my vacation plans.”
I groan. “Do you want Dad to come or not? If you don’t, I’ll call him and save him the trip.”
Another struggle with pride, and then she slumps. “It won’t change anything. He may take me to the funeral, but then he’ll drop me at home and that will be that.”
“Not if you and Mom declare a truce.”
She shakes her head. “I would, but there’s too much water under the bridge.”
