Grace refused to hang out in the wrestling room, even if they were the last team to finish practice on Wednesday morning. It was like breathing condensed sweat, and no matter how many times they scrubbed the mats with bleach solution, the place still reeked.
She set her folding chair just outside and cracked the door a few inches instead, close enough to hear if anyone called for her. Then she fired up her tablet and proceeded to accomplish almost nothing. Her mind refused to focus on treatment notes when it could spin in useless circles, from Hank’s kiss to Gil’s warning, from Hank’s laughter to Maddie’s cheeky grin.
Her phone chirped. She checked the message and smiled at Shawnee’s standard post-checkup text, sent out to everyone waiting to hear the results. OK.
“Hey, Grace. Good news?”
Grace looked up to see one of the custodians pushing a wide dust mop down the sideline of the basketball court. “Hi, Loretta. And yeah. Something to be thankful for.”
“On top of an entire Thursday without seeing the inside of this place?”
Grace laughed. “That too. Got big plans for tomorrow?”
“Dinner with Mama’s side of the family.” She rolled her eyes, looking like one of the students in her jeans and plaid shirt, with her wispy blond hair pulled into a ponytail. “Want to make a bet on how many of them will ask if I’ve found myself a man yet? As if dealing with Tatum’s daddy isn’t enough of a pain.”
“Is he giving you a hard time?”
“Just the usual.” Loretta folded both hands over the end of the broom handle. “He’s been insistin’ since August that he was taking her to visit his family in San Antone for the holiday, and they were gonna ride the boats along the Riverwalk and spend a whole day at Six Flags. She’s been so excited. Then he calls me last night and says Hey, darlin’, I had a change of plans. And he didn’t even have the balls to tell her himself.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.” She made a rude gesture with the broom handle. “I told him he could Hey darlin’ this if he ever does it to her again.”
Grace twiddled her thumb over the edge of her phone. “I don’t know how you do it all.”
“I don’t.” Loretta swept an arm in a wide circle. “I do this, and I try to be a decent mother, and occasionally I sleep. I swear, if I’d had any idea it was going to be this hard…” She bit her lip, as if it wanted to tremble.
Would you have made a different choice? Grace wondered. Did you ever look at an ultrasound image and instead of getting a rush of warm fuzzies think, “Oh, hell no. I am not raising a kid.” Obviously not. Unlike Grace, she had a smidgeon of maternal instincts.
Loretta sighed, then squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry. Here you were thinking happy thoughts, and I had to come along and dump my sad story on you.”
“It’s fine.” Other than Shawnee’s news, Grace’s thoughts hadn’t been all that happy.
“I imagine you’re used to it.” Loretta swiped the broom under the end of the bleachers. “You’re a real comforting person, Grace, and I never feel like you’re judging me…unlike most folks. And I do love my baby. No matter how tough it gets, I’d never give her up, you know?”
No, Grace did not. How would Loretta judge her if she knew that not only had Grace given up her daughter, but that it didn’t haunt her the way it seemed like it should. She didn’t ache from the loss every time she saw a tiny pink bundle, or suffer pangs of anything but guilt when a toddler batted its eyes at her.
Mostly, she was relieved that she didn’t have to take it home with her.
And no matter how many times the therapist in Oregon had insisted that motherhood wasn’t an imperative and that, if anything, her feelings validated her decision to give Maddie up—it was a hard line to sell to the daughter of a woman who’d had seven children with four miscarriages in the spaces between.
“Aw, now I’ve got you moping,” Loretta said.
Grace manufactured a smile. “You just got me thinking about family and how I’ll manage to sneak out early tomorrow without my tattletale sister ratting me out.”
“Oh, honey, I hear you.” Loretta winked at her. “If all else fails, go with the menstrual cramps. It freaks out the men and the women can feel your pain, so nobody argues.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
As the door to the wrestling room burst open and a herd of boys thundered past, Grace stood and folded her chair. “That’s my cue. Enjoy your day off.”
Tori had texted that they were home, so when the wrestlers finally cleared out, Grace locked up and drove to her apartment. There was three days’ worth of mail in her box. She stuffed it under her arm, unlocked the door, and wrinkled her nose at the stench of a garbage can she’d obviously forgotten to empty. Dumping the mail on the kitchen counter, she began sorting through the pile. Her hands went still when she came across a heavy, cream-colored envelope. Not an off-the-rack Christmas card, and the handwriting was as lovely as its owner. There was no return address—a concession to their privacy agreement. A friend or family member wouldn’t stumble across it and ask Grace who was sending her greetings from Portland, Oregon.
Her heart thudded painfully as she pulled out a table knife, slit the envelope, and pulled out the photo. Her breath stalled in her throat. Lord, Maddie was adorable in a red velvet and lace dress with a matching beret. The outfit probably cost more than Grace’s mama had spent on her wedding dress. The woman who held her was even more exquisite, a miracle of shimmering blond hair and porcelain skin. The second woman, standing with a possessive, protective hand on the blond’s shoulder, was equally stunning, her hair jet black and her skin a deep brown, her features drawn in bolder lines.
Everything Grace didn’t feel shone in their faces. The pride. The joy. The fierce, unqualified love. Their smiles were so brilliant that Grace had to close her eyes. In all the months since she’d realized she was pregnant, those smiles were the best answer she had to the first question Hank was bound to ask.
Why, Grace?
* * *
It was almost midnight on Wednesday when Hank parked his pickup in front of his dad’s house, after Tex-Mex and a movie in Amarillo with Bing. The lamp was on in the living room, but he could see through the window that the television was off. His dad hadn’t waited up for them.
And it was damned annoying that Hank had felt a little guilty about getting back so late. They hadn’t abandoned Johnny. Steve and Miz Iris had come after lunch to bring his medication and whatever else he’d left at their house, and the neighbors who’d hauled him to the hospital had called to say they were bringing over an apple pie that evening to welcome him home.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Hank asked Bing.
She squeezed his hand. “Just keep your phone close, and come for breakfast first thing. There will be caramel rolls.”
“Count me in.” He turned his hand over and returned the squeeze. “I don’t have so much as an aspirin in my apartment, and there’s no place in Earnest to buy booze at this time of the night.”
She sketched a thin smile. “I’m not worried.”
“Yes, you are. And like you keep telling me, it doesn’t have to be rational to be real.”
She huffed out a breath of a laugh. They sat for a few moments, the wind whistling around the cab. He had planned to take her into Amarillo tomorrow, then on down to Palo Duro Canyon, but as distractions went, he thought he could do better.
“I want to go to dinner tomorrow,” he said abruptly.
She blinked. “At Miz Iris’s?”
“Yeah. I…miss it.” Lame, but if he made her think it was important to him, she’d be more likely to go along. “And you can entertain yourself by calling out anybody who even looks at me sideways.”
Her teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “I can do that.”
“I know.” He leaned across the cab to give her a hug. “It’s one of the things I love best about you.”