A Gift Of Grace. Inglath Cooper
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a memorial to her physical presence on earth. Laney was wherever the good went. This he knew in the marrow of his bones.
But her child was here. In the same town where he worked and lived.
He’d somehow imagined she would have been adopted by someone out of the area. It hadn’t been a stipulation, so he could hardly blame the agency.
A soft swoosh of wind lifted the boughs of a nearby pine tree. He felt the touch on his shoulder, soothing, comforting. He looked around. There was no one there, and yet he felt the presence of his wife as surely as if he were looking at her.
He wondered again if he was losing his mind, if this was how it happened. Truth and desperate hope merging to form new reality.
Whatever the explanation, the pain inside him softened and dissolved into something more neutral. Something bearable so that his mind cleared like fog dissipating before a waiting sun.
He had driven out to Sophie Owens’s house today to convince himself he had been wrong. That the resemblance between the little girl and his wife was nothing more than his imagination looking for some new way to reach Laney when she was no longer reachable.
He’d spent the night on the porch in the old rocker, unable to face the bed they had shared, and he had never had the heart to replace. He hadn’t slept, but sat up wide awake until the sun rose, the knowledge burning in him that he had seen with his own eyes the child to whom Laney had given birth.
After three years of blocking his mind to her existence, she had appeared right in front of him, as if that, too, had been part of some plan laid out for him without his consent.
The child’s face hung in his mind now like a newly taken snapshot, and in her likeness to his wife, he imagined the children they had hoped to have together and wondered if they would have looked like Laney, too.
BECAUSE CATHERINE WAS miserable, they left North Carolina a day early and drove all the way back with no more than ten words spoken between them. It had been that way all weekend, and regardless of how many times Jeb asked her, Catherine would not tell him what was wrong. She had put up yet another wall between them, and he was beginning to feel the hopelessness of ever getting through again.
They got home around five, each of them unpacking their suitcases in silence. Catherine was downstairs in the kitchen starting supper when he walked through on his way outside to get the newspaper.
She stood by the sink, slicing apples, halving each one and then scooping out the center with a quickness that made her agitation clear.
He stopped at the door, walked across the floor and put his hand on her shoulder. He felt her stiffen beneath his touch, but forced himself not to let go.
“Don’t I have a right to know what happened, Cath? At least then, I might be able to defend myself.”
She continued slicing, then stopped and said, “You should have asked Betsy.”
He restrained a sigh. His big sister could rarely resist meddling. “What did she say?”
Catherine turned, her blue eyes meeting his. “Basically that I need to wake up and realize how miserable you are.”
He opened his mouth to deny it, then stood there mute when the words wouldn’t come out.
Her eyes widened. She turned back to the sink, one hand gripping the edge.
“Betsy shouldn’t have interfered,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “But how long are we going to go on like this, Cath?”
She dropped her chin, her shoulders suddenly shaking with silent weeping.
An actual pain stabbed through Jeb’s heart. “Baby, come here,” he said, turning her to face him. He put his arms around her and rubbed the back of her hair with his hand. “Shh. Don’t cry.”
“It’s like there’s this black cloud over me,” she said after a minute or two, “and I can’t see through it anymore. Most days, I don’t want to try.”
“Maybe you need to see somebody,” he said carefully. “There’s medicine for this kind of thing—”
She stiffened again, pulling back with a look of pure fear. “I’m not sick, Jeb.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?” she asked, her voice sharp.
Jeb stared at her, thinking about Elaine, Catherine’s mother, and the things Catherine had seen growing up. Doctor after doctor. Medications that had helped until Elaine had stopped taking them, any progress she had made eroding beneath a fresh wave of depression. Her eventual institutionalization. Catherine had talked to him about it in bits and pieces early on in their marriage, but at some point, she’d just seemed to close the door and not let herself revisit any of it.
“Catherine,” he said.
She turned away, reached for a pot from the stove and placed the apples in it. “Can we not talk about this now?”
“I’m afraid if we don’t it’s going to swallow us both.”
She went still for a moment, then filled the pot with water, set it back on the stove. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’ll see.”
But it wasn’t fine. And he knew with the worst kind of sinking feeling that all the things wrong between them weren’t going to fix themselves. He would walk to the moon and back for this woman he’d married thirty-seven years ago.
But the truth, he knew in his gut. She wasn’t going to let him.
CHAPTER FIVE
AFTER CHURCH ON SUNDAY, Sophie and Grace turned in at the wooden sign marking the entrance to the Open Hearts Animal Home off route 29. The back of the Volvo was weighed down with donated items.
Open Hearts had bought an old farm out in the country for its facility, converting the house and barn as well as a couple of other buildings into housing for unwanted dogs and cats. Sophie stopped the car in front of the house where a sign read Visitors Enter Here, Please. She got Grace out of the car seat, and they went inside to the registration desk.
A woman appeared from the hallway to their left. Tall and thin with crinkly blue eyes, she wore faded denim overalls. Her dark hair hung in a braid to the center of her back. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Teresa Moore, the shelter director. Could I help you?”
“I’m Sophie Owens. We spoke on the phone last week. My daughter, Grace, has some things to donate from her birthday party.”
“Oh, yes. How wonderful of you, Grace.”
Grace dropped her eyes at the woman’s compliment, obviously pleased.
They unloaded the car, bringing everything into the foyer and stacking it in the corner. It was an impressive amount of stuff.
“I can’t tell you how much all of this will be appreciated,” Teresa said, shaking her head.
“You’re welcome,” Sophie replied. “Would it be possible for Grace to pick out a dog for her birthday?”
Grace looked up at Sophie, her little mouth making a small O of surprise, her eyes widening. “Really, Mama?”
“Really,” Sophie said, running a hand across her daughter’s silky hair.
“Just follow me,” Teresa said, waving them down the hall. At the end, she opened a door, and they were greeted by a chorus of excited barks.
“Everyone in here is available for adoption. They’ve all had shots and been spayed or neutered if they’re old enough.”
Grace stood for a moment, clearly not sure where to look first.
“Come on, sweetie,” Sophie said, taking her hand. They walked down the aisle, greeted at each cage with boisterous tail wagging. There was