“Molly told me you’re seeing someone,” Grace said, eager to discover whether her sister was right.
Irene waved a dismissive hand. “Not really. She and that guy she brought for Christmas are dating again, though.”
“Bo’s just a friend, and you know it. But you’re trying to change the subject, and that gives me the impression you’re hiding something.”
“Who would I be seeing? No one around here has ever liked me,” she said with a self-deprecating chuckle.
Whether or not that was the case now, it’d been true in the past. When Irene married the Reverend Barker and moved with her three children from neighboring Booneville twenty-two years ago, Grace had been only nine years old. But nine was old enough to understand that the whispers she frequently heard about her mother weren’t particularly flattering.
Look at her, walkin’ ’round with her nose in the air. I swear I’ve never seen a more uppity woman…. As if we don’t have a dozen ladies right here in Stillwater who would’ve made our good reverend twice the wife…. Why, Irene’s gotta be ten, fifteen years younga than he is. She’s afta his money, that’s what she’s afta.
The reverend had only a modest living and the farm. But that was still more than Irene and her children had possessed in Booneville. And it was enough to make the people of Stillwater resent them. They’d been outsiders, treated as if her mother had taken something she had no right to.
Of course it hadn’t helped that the reverend made subtle yet demeaning comments about his new wife at every opportunity—even from the pulpit. Or that the blush of excitement her mother had experienced in the beginning faded fast as Irene came to know her new husband better.
Grace had always marveled at how loyal this town had been to Barker, that such an evil man could convince so many he was a saint.
A callused hand closed over her arm, and a low, gruff voice grated in her ear, “Don’t make a sound.” When she whimpered, the man she called Daddy squeezed tighter, using the pressure to warn her of the consequences should she disobey. Madeline, his own daughter, slept in the bed directly across from her. But Grace knew he’d get his revenge if she woke her stepsister—
“Grace, what’s wrong?” her mother asked.
The memory shattered. Folding her arms tightly across her body to ward off the chill left in its wake, Grace forced a trembling smile. “Nothing.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive,” she said, but the peace and tranquility she’d enjoyed earlier eluded her now. It felt as if she’d stepped out of the sun into a cold dark cellar. The images and sensations she worked so hard to avoid seemed to bang around inside her head. “I—it’s too hot out here. We should sit on the porch,” she said and started for the house.
“After thirteen years…I can’t believe you’re back,” her mother said as she followed.
Grace spoke before she could catch herself. “I can’t believe you never left.”
“I couldn’t leave,” Irene said indignantly. “Do you think I’d abandon Clay?”
“Like I did?”
Her mother looked stricken. “No, I—I didn’t mean that.”
Grace pressed three fingers to her forehead as she sank onto the porch swing. Of course. No one who knew the truth ever blamed her. They pitied her, didn’t know what to say or how to make things better. But they didn’t blame her. She was the one who blamed herself. “I’m sorry.” She willed her pulse to slow, her calm to return. “Coming here is difficult for me.”
Her mother sat next to her and took her hand. She didn’t say anything, but held on while they rocked back and forth.
Oddly enough, the tension eased. Grace wished her mother had been capable of reaching out to her eighteen years ago….
“Evonne’s place is nice, isn’t it?” Irene said at last.
“I like it here,” Grace told her.
“Will you be staying long?”
“Three months. Maybe.”
“Three months! That’s good.” Letting go, her mother stood. “I love you, Grace. I didn’t say it enough, and I…I let you down. But I do love you.”
Grace didn’t know how to respond. So she asked the question she’d wanted to ask Irene for a long time. “Does ignoring something ugly mean it doesn’t exist, Mom?”
Her mother studied her for several minutes, her eyes clouding with her own pain. “Does acknowledging it make it go away?” she countered. “I did what I had to do. Someday I hope you’ll forgive me for that.” With a final wave, she set off across the porch, her heels clacking on the wooden boards until she reached the lawn. “I’ve got an appointment. Call me later if…if you’d like to see me again.”
“I’ll call,” Grace said and watched her go.
The cool, dim interior of the Hill Country Pizza & Pasta Parlor finally brought Grace a welcome reprieve from the heat. She’d just showered, but it was the hottest part of the day and she already felt sticky again. The air had grown muggier and muggier all afternoon, but it had yet to rain. She guessed the rain would fall tonight as a constant drizzle.
“Here’s your pizza.”
The teenage girl who’d taken her order hovered at the table with a small pie. As Grace moved her salad to the side, the door opened and a small group of men walked in.
“Thank you,” she said to the waitress and immediately averted her face. She didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone, didn’t want to be noticed or drawn into conversation. She’d only come to have an early supper and to escape the heat.
But it wasn’t three minutes later that she heard the same men talking about her.
“I swear it’s her, Tim.”
“Grinding Gracie? Nah…”
“It is! Rex Peters told me she was coming back to town.”
“What for?” someone else asked. “I thought she’d become an assistant district attorney somewhere. There was an article about her in the paper.”
Grace couldn’t decipher the response. She told herself to block them out and finish her food. But a moment later, someone gave a low whistle and said something about how good she looked, and she couldn’t help glancing over.
One of the men stood at the front counter. He had his back to her as he ordered, but the other four were the jocks she’d admired so much in high school. Seeing them made her skin crawl. She no longer wanted to be here, didn’t want to acknowledge them. She wasn’t the person she used to be.