A Gift Of Grace. Inglath Cooper
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his office, Caleb pulled a chair up to the heavy oak desk by the window that looked out over the feed store’s main floor. He worked for a couple of hours, glancing over receipts, comparing margins on certain labels of feed they sold, dog food, cat food, grain for horses. Tucker Farm Supply wasn’t the kind of business that would ever make a man rich, but it was a comfortable living, a stable one. If there was anything Caleb appreciated now, it was stability. He clung to the things in his life that didn’t change, weeded out what did.
The bell to the front door dinged several times while he worked, customers going in and out. It was almost noon when he stood and stretched just as the door jingled again. A woman came in with a little girl holding on to her hand. The child said something and the woman nodded. The little girl took off for the corner of the store, headed straight for the seed barrel where Noah and Russell were still maintaining their standoff.
The woman stepped to the counter, said something to Macy. The child squatted beside Noah, rubbing his head. Noah’s attention, strangely enough, had been diverted from the cat. He sat with his nose in the air, his eyes closed in absolute appreciation of the child’s doting.
Caleb turned away from the window, sat down at the desk a little too quickly so that the chair tipped back. The phone buzzed. “Yeah, Macy.”
“Do you know if we’ve got any more of that hay in the shed out back?”
“Few bales, I think.”
“Dr. Owens wants to buy some.”
Caleb peered over the window again at the woman by the register. He didn’t recall seeing her in the store before. “That’ll be fine.”
“Eddie left for lunch a few minutes ago. Think you could help load it?”
“Be right down.”
He took the stairs two at a time, nodding at the woman as he passed the register and said, “Where you parked, ma’am?”
“In front,” she said.
“Mind pulling around back?”
“No.”
“It’ll be the first white shed.”
“Okay.” She looked at Macy and added, “Is it all right if my daughter stays in here for a minute?”
“Of course. Noah’s loving it. I’ll keep an eye on her.”
“Be right back then,” the woman said, following Caleb out the door and then veering right to a dark blue Volvo station wagon parked near the front of the store.
Caleb opened the shed, flicked on the light and tossed out three bales of orchard grass hay just as the woman backed toward the building.
She got out of the car and smiled at him. “Oh, good. That’s exactly what I needed.”
Her smile was open and friendly, as if she used it often. He eyed the car and said, “How many did you want?”
“Four or five would be great, but—”
“Looks like two’s about all that’ll fit if you leave the tailgate open.”
She worried a full lower lip with noticeably white teeth. “Oh. Well, I can come back for whatever doesn’t. Except I have a class this afternoon. What time do you close?”
“Five o’clock,” he said.
“I won’t be able to get back by then. Maybe I can come in the morning?”
He glanced at his watch. “Where do you live?”
“Ivy Run Road.”
“I could drop them off for you. I was headed out on an errand, anyway.”
Her face brightened. “That would be great. We’re having a birthday party, and I still have a thousand things to do—”
“No problem,” he said. “Just give me the address.”
“Actually, I have to run back by there on the way to school. Could you possibly go now?”
“Sure. I’ll follow you over.”
“Let me just run in and pay then.”
Caleb nodded, tossing a couple more bales from the shed while she pulled her Volvo out front. He backed his truck up, loaded the hay, then headed inside to tell Macy he would be gone an hour or so.
The woman and child stood by the register. Macy was looking at the little girl with that same odd expression on her face that he’d noticed when they’d first come in the store. The little girl clutched her mother’s hand, talking nonstop about the yellow dog and the big cat. Something about her rang out like an echo inside him. He frowned, then glanced at the woman, who smiled expectantly and said, “I really appreciate this.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Ten minutes later, they turned onto a paved driveway off tree-lined Ivy Run Road. Caleb backed in behind her. He got out and she met him at the truck. The little girl had already taken off around one side of the house.
“Do you think we could put those in the backyard?” she asked, raising her voice above the rumble of the truck’s diesel engine.
“Sure,” he said, popping the tailgate and grabbing a bale with each hand. “Just show me where.”
She nodded and moved off in the direction the child had taken, saying again how much she appreciated his help.
The house was neat and well maintained, not huge, but cottagelike with groomed boxwoods neatly clipped into roundness. A huge old magnolia tree stood to one side of the lawn. At the rear of the house, Caleb came up short. The backyard looked as if FAO Schwarz had set up a display. Big red slide with a small trampoline-like thing at its base. A playhouse in bright yellow and green with shutters. A mini picnic table where two dolls sat waiting for tea. The little girl was at the top of the slide, getting ready to come down.
“Watch, Mommy!”
She turned to look, shading her eyes with one hand. “Be careful, honey.”
The girl zipped down, hitting the trampoline at the bottom and letting out a high squeal-giggle that had delight at its center.
The woman stopped at the edge of the yard. “You can put that down here,” she said, smiling at him. “I’ll figure out where to place it later.”
“I’d be glad to put it where you need it.”
“Well, okay.” One finger under her chin, she said, “I thought we could use them as chairs for the children. How about under the oak tree?”
Caleb nodded and dropped the bales. “I’ll get the rest.”
Two trips back to the truck, and the last of the bales formed an L-shaped backless bench at the yard’s perimeter.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “We’re having a barnyard party on Saturday. Mini-donkeys. Grace has hardly been able to sleep for thinking about it.”
The little girl skipped over and took her mother’s hand. “They’re only a little taller than me,” she said, looking up at Caleb.
“Perfect size then, huh?”
“I haven’t even introduced myself,” the woman said. “I’m Sophie Owens. And this is my daughter, Grace.”
“Caleb Tucker.”
“Oh.” She tipped her head back, her eyes widening a fraction. “Then you own the—”
“My family does, yes.”
“Well, again, thank you so much for hauling those out here for me.”
“No problem.”
“Is that your dog at the store?” the little girl asked.
“He