Circle of Grace, page 33
“Of course there is.” Tess brightened. “I know what Lovey means. We can’t cure her, but we can ensure that her last year will be better than the past thirty.”
Liz thought about this for a minute, then nodded. “OK, I’m in. So what do you suggest?”
“Maybe we could take turns having her stay with each of us,” Lovey said. “We’ve got plenty of room, and Bo—” She grinned. “At this point I think Bo would pretty much agree to anything.”
“That might work for the two of you, but our little house is pretty crowded already. Besides, I doubt if Grace would agree to come to D.C., or to Minneapolis. She’s more accustomed to small-town life. And it seems to me she needs stability right now—a place to belong, as well as consistent health care. I don’t know if she’d be offended if we offered what seemed like charity.”
“I agree,” Tess said. “Still, there might be a way.” She held up a hand, dug a cell phone out of her bag, and punched in a series of numbers. Liz and Lovey could only hear one end of the conversation, but they got the gist of it.
“Good morning, sweetheart. Sorry, I forgot about the time difference. Can you wake up and talk to me? I need your opinion about something.”
They listened as Tess filled Hal in on what had been going on—about Grace’s confession, and her cancer, something about an apartment and Claire and a research assistant.
“You’re absolutely wonderful, Hal. I was sure you’d say that. OK, I’ll ask. And I’ll see you tonight. Love you.”
Tess flipped the phone shut and sat back with a pleased expression on her face. “We have an apartment over our garage—a nice place with a private bath and kitchenette. Claire lived there while she went to undergraduate school. It’ll need some cosmetic improvements, but I think it would work just fine. Hal, bless him, is a generous, good-hearted man. He said yes without a moment’s hesitation.”
Liz frowned. “Yes to what, exactly?”
“For a while now I’ve been considering hiring an assistant,” Tess explained. “Someone to do research, answer mail, proof galleys, that sort of thing. It’s right up Grace’s alley, and it would free me to write more. She could work when she felt good, and still have plenty of time to rest. She’d have privacy, but also a family to belong to. And it would be a job, not a handout.”
“Sounds perfect,” Lovey said. “Stability plus independence.” This was better than she could have imagined. She turned toward Liz. “What about us? What are we going to do?”
“I was thinking about that while Tess was on the phone,” Liz said. “It’s all a matter of tapping into our resources. Tess has a place for Grace to live, and a job for her. What do you have to offer, Lovey?”
Lovey frowned. “Money? Time?”
“Exactly. You’ve got money. I’m doing all right, but I don’t have the kind of discretionary income you have. What I’ve got is contacts.”
“Contacts?”
“Yes. Serena and I know people in Washington. We can get things done.”
“Such as?” Tess asked.
“Such as tracking down Grace’s lost daughter, of course. Finding out if she’s willing to see her biological mother.”
Lovey saw a shadow pass across Tess’s eyes. “Tess? Do you not think this is a good idea?”
Tess blinked, and her expression cleared. “Oh, yes, I think it would be wonderful. It’s just that—” She hesitated for a moment. “Claire tried to do that once, find her birth mother, but the records were sealed. When you go back twenty years or more, that kind of information can be hard to find.”
“Well, we won’t know until we try, will we?” Liz was watching Tess’s face closely. “Lovey, can you put up the funds for a private detective?”
“Absolutely. Also the money for plane fare and whatever else we need when we find her.” She drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “I can pay for medical expenses too. And as I said, I’ve got time. I can fly down to Iowa once in a while—if that’s OK with you, Tess—and be there for Grace when she has chemo. I want to do more than just foot the bill.”
Tess held up a hand. “She said she didn’t want treatment, and I don’t think we should force the issue. That’s her decision.”
“All right. But if she changes her mind, the offer stands. I do want to be with her.”
“You’d be welcome any time you want to come,” Tess said.
“Maybe we could all get together for Thanksgiving or Christmas,” Lovey went on, a sense of anticipation building in her. “B.J. and Carolyn live too far away to come home much. It would be like—”
“Like a family,” Tess said.
“Right.” Liz nodded. “One big dysfunctional family. Sounds like fun to me.”
Grace lay on the bed upstairs in the suite, her stomach in knots, an almost unbearable pressure bearing down on her chest. She hadn’t lied about not feeling well, but it wasn’t primarily because of something she ate, or because of the dark, silent tentacles invading her body.
It was because today was Monday. Their last day together.
This afternoon Tess and Liz and Lovey would be gone. Tomorrow Grace would return to her old life, her real life. For whatever time she had left—she hadn’t made a firm decision about that part of the plan—she would be alone, with no one but Snookums the cat for company. Once she had found a loving home for Snookums, she would give up living, and pass on to whatever awaited her—reward or punishment or nothingness, it didn’t much matter.
The process of confession—what Liz called “speaking her truth”—had been good for Grace, a release for her soul, a lifting of the heavy burden her heart had carried for years. And yet now that it was done, now that she had gotten a taste of the love and support and affirmation of friends, she felt worse off, not better. How quickly the sweetness of companionship and understanding could turn bitter on the tongue! For she now had been reminded, much to her dismay, what she had been missing all these years. And what she would miss even more desperately between now and the time she passed through eternity’s door.
Perhaps this reunion had been a stupid idea after all. Wouldn’t it have been better not to know how things could be? Wouldn’t it have been preferable to face death never having lived, rather than experiencing the joy of life for a fleeting moment and having it snatched away again?
Her mind wandered by turns to Liz and Tess and Lovey. Liz had endured such terrible emotional torment, but had come out stronger on the other side, with significant work and a fulfilling life. Tess had made her mark—not the mark she intended to make, but an important one nevertheless—and had managed a wonderful family in the bargain. And Lovey. Who could have predicted the changes that were now taking place in Lovey’s life? She had, finally, taken the reins of her own destiny and determined to change. She had learned, had grown, had not allowed herself to stay stuck in the mire of other people’s expectations. And now it looked as if Bo, too, would be altered by the new Lovey. Assuming he made good on his promises, their marriage could very well bring both of them to a new level of respect and commitment.
These extraordinary women were her friends. They inspired her, made her feel as if life might be worth going on with after all. But not for long. She was about to lose them again, and this time there would be no more reunions.
Grace heard noises in the hallway, a key being inserted in the lock. She couldn’t let them see her like this—curled into a ball of despair, feeling sorry for herself.
She jumped up, ran into the bathroom, and shut the door. She could hear them beyond, in the suite, moving about, talking. But she couldn’t make out the words. Probably getting their things together, packing suitcases, preparing to check out.
“Grace?” Lovey’s voice came through the thick oak door. “Are you all right?”
“I’m—I’m fine,” Grace managed. “I’ll be out in a minute.” She turned on the tap in the sink, and the noise drowned out Lovey’s voice. She splashed cold water on her face to reduce the puffiness around her eyes, then brushed her teeth, took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and opened the door.
Lovey stood at the bed, folding clothes to go in her suitcase. When Grace emerged, she looked up and grinned as if she were about to burst at the seams with an exciting secret. “We’ve got plenty of time to pack,” she said. “Come into the parlor; we want to talk to you.”
Grace allowed herself to be led into the sitting room, and she sank down onto the couch. On the coffee table in front of her lay the circle journal with its ragged, faded cover. She picked it up and absently flipped its pages, catching phrases here and there written in four distinctive but very familiar styles of handwriting.
Liz grinned and took the book from her. “Pay attention. We’ve got a proposition for you.”
“A proposition?”
“An offer,” Tess corrected. She sat down next to Grace, took both of her hands, and fixed her with an intense, searching look. “We’ve been talking, and as much as we know you love these mountains—we all do—it seems to us that there’s not much holding you here. If you’re interested, I’d like to present an alternative to you.”
“An alternative?” Grace knew she sounded like a particularly annoying parrot, repeating everything, but she couldn’t help herself. She had no idea what they were talking about.
“For a while now, Hal and I have been discussing my need for an assistant—someone to proofread, do research, answer mail, things like that. But since I work at home, I’ve been hesitant to invite a stranger into my private space. I was wondering if you might consider taking the job.”
“Me? Move to Iowa to work with you?”
“Of course you. It wouldn’t be a very high-paying position, but you could keep your own schedule, and we have a garage apartment that’s currently going to waste. That could be part of the deal—a place to live, meals with me and Hal—” Tess stammered to a stop. “If you’d want to, that is. It’s not a big place—the size of a three-car garage. More like a large studio with a private bath and a small kitchen. But it’s very nice, and we’d redecorate it to suit you.”
Grace gaped at her. “I—I don’t understand. You’re offering me—”
“I need an assistant,” Tess repeated. “And you—”
Lovey perched on the edge of the sofa and slid an arm around Grace’s shoulders. “And you need a family,” she said gently. “We’ve all talked about it, Grace. We want to spend more time with you, to be there for you. We could all come for holidays. In between, I could fly down on weekends occasionally. Or even drive—it’s only about three hundred miles.”
Tears stung at Grace’s eyes, and she blinked them back. “I couldn’t accept—”
“Why not?” Liz said.
“You’re just doing this because—because I have cancer. You feel sorry for me.”
Liz knelt in front of Grace, nearly nose to nose. “Look at this face. Do you see pity in this face?” She gave a curt laugh. “Let’s be honest—keeping in touch via the circle journal hasn’t exactly turned out to be a rousing success. We’ve all used it as a shield, hidden things from each other. I think it’s way past time we negotiated these friendships in person.”
“But you’re going back to D.C.,” Grace said, “and Lovey’s going home to Minnesota. How—?”
“Right,” Liz said. “But this is the twenty-first century, and we now have such marvels of technology as e-mail and telephones and airplanes.” She peered at Grace. “You have heard of those things, I trust.”
Despite herself, Grace laughed. “You don’t have to be sarcastic, Liz.”
“Of course I do. It’s a gift. It’s my calling.”
Grace swiped at her tears and leaned back against Lovey’s arm. “You three are really sneaky, you know?”
“Yes, we are.” Tess smiled. “But this is for real, Grace. I do need an assistant, and you’ll be perfect for the job.”
“And I won’t have to die alone, is that it?”
No one spoke for a moment. Then Lovey said, “Yes, that’s part of it. We’re your friends, your family. If there’s nothing we can do to help you live longer, we can at least be there for you during the time you have left.” She blinked back tears. “You know, before this weekend I would never have been this honest about death—especially the death of someone I love.”
“But now,” Liz added, “it seems utterly ridiculous to be anything less than honest.”
Tess nodded. “That’s what friendship is all about.”
Grace smiled, but a voice in the back of her brain reminded her that there was one minor detail she wasn’t being honest about—the fact that she had decided to kill herself.
She pushed the thought aside. She would face that issue later. She couldn’t tell them—not now, anyway. She had been granted the chance for a different sort of ending, to live whatever time she had left surrounded by people who cared about her, who loved her.
She would take it, and be thankful.
-38-
ON A CLEAR DAY
Grace had paid her rent through June 15, but by the first she was ready to hit the road. Lovey had settled the Visa bill for the Grove Park reunion. Grace had sold her furniture for a little cash, and had traded in her old Civic on a used Nissan minivan. The van was now packed with boxes of books, clothes, and personal belongings. In the front passenger seat next to her, Snookums meowed piteously in her crate.
“It’s all right, baby,” Grace cooed. “We’re almost there.”
Geographically impaired as she was, she had pictured Iowa as being straight west, near Oklahoma. Instead, her route had taken her north of Knoxville, through the rolling bluegrass of Kentucky horse country and the farms and cornfields of Indiana. Eight hundred miles of Middle America, and once she had left the Smokies behind at the I-40 exit for Dollywood and Pigeon Forge, not a mountain in sight.
It was a strange and unsettling experience for Grace, traversing these flat lands. She had lived in the Blue Ridge all her life, and had become accustomed to the intimate embrace of the mountains and foothills. As she approached the Iowa border on the second day of the sixteen-hour trip, she realized what was bothering her: She could see for miles.
The metaphor was not lost on Grace. For years her vision had been limited to what was directly in front of her, or only slightly at a distance. The mundane routine of getting up, dressing, dragging herself to a boring job, coming home, feeding the cat, worrying about bills, going to bed, and rising the next morning to do it all over again.
But that life was behind her. She was headed toward something new, something utterly unfamiliar. An abbreviated future, no doubt, but nevertheless a future wide with possibility. She wouldn’t be alone. She would have friends, and interesting work, and a place to belong.
A memory drifted into her mind, a movie she had seen long ago, with Barbra Streisand as a young woman with a gift of sight. She could hear the theme song building to a crescendo—“On a Clear Day You Can See Forever.” How many clear days, Grace wondered, had she experienced in her lifetime? How many of her fifty-plus years had brought her hope?
Yet oddly, anticipation welled up inside her. The past lay like shredded rubber from a blown tire, left on the shoulder of the highway. The future called to her, beckoning to her from a place called Iowa City. Her heart felt lighter than it had in decades. Whatever she was going to, it had to be better than what she had left.
At a little past four, Grace found her exit, pulled into a service station, and consulted the directions Tess had sent her. “Not far now,” she murmured to the cat. “First thing we’ll do is get you out of that box.”
Tess and Hal lived in a quiet, established neighborhood with mature trees and large lots. She turned into the driveway, shut off the motor, and sat gazing through the windshield at a stately two-story brick Georgian with a three-car garage. Exactly right for Tess, she thought. Distinguished but not ostentatious.
Her eyes went to the three-bay garage, also brick, which had a stairway leading to the upper-level apartment. “This is it,” she said with a sigh.
Snookums responded with an impatient “Mrowww.”
The front door opened, and Tess emerged, smiling and waving. “You made it!” she said as Grace unfolded herself stiffly from behind the wheel. “Long trip.”
“It wasn’t too bad,” Grace said. “I am a little tired.” She went around to the passenger side and unloaded the cat crate. “I think Snookums will be relieved to be out of this thing.”
Tess took the crate from her and peered inside, poking a finger in to rub Snookums on the head. “Hello, beautiful,” she said. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”
Grace opened the back of the van and pulled out a litter box, a bag of cat litter, and a ceramic bowl with the word Kitty on one side. She followed Tess up the outside stairway and through the door into the apartment.
“Once we’ve unloaded your stuff, you can park in the garage,” Tess said as Grace situated the litter box in a corner behind the bathroom door and filled the cat’s water bowl. “There’s a pass-through hall to the main house from up here, so you won’t have to use the outside stairs. It goes straight into my office.”
Snookums came out of the bathroom looking decidedly relieved, her chin dripping water, and jumped immediately onto the back of an overstuffed chair near the front window. Grace paced back and forth, stretching her legs, gazing around.
The apartment consisted of one spacious room with a sitting area, a queen-size bed in the far corner, and a small kitchenette hidden behind louvered folding doors. “I’m afraid you’ll have to share our laundry room downstairs,” Tess was saying. “But you’ve got a small fridge and sink, a microwave, and a two-burner stove.” She pulled open a cabinet door overhead to reveal a stack of colorful plates and bowls, and a shelf lined with pale blue glasses and coffee mugs. “I bought some Fiesta ware, and you’ve got a few pots and pans, but I hope you’ll join us for meals most of the time. Oh, and here—” She went to the other side of the bed and pushed back a pocket door to reveal a walk-in closet. “Enough storage space, I hope. Hanging rods on one side, and shelves on the other.”
