Saving Grace (27 page)

In his stomach, the sinking feeling he’d had turned into a giant ball of lead. Grace needed money, and then there was her sudden interest in football.

He sat hard on her bed. She wasn’t Alice. She wouldn’t have taken the book and sold it. Grace wasn’t like that.

He looked down at the money in neat thousand-dollar stacks on the bed. Over the last couple of weeks, Grace had been increasingly sad and distant. Was this why?

If she’d asked, he’d have gladly given her the money. Hell, he planned on giving her the money, but she was too proud to ask for it. Instead she’d taken matters into her own hands. He didn’t blame her. If he’d been desperate, he might have done the same.

The lead ball turned to a deep, dark sadness. Just because he understood it, didn’t mean that it lessened the magnitude of her betrayal. He put his hand over his heart and rubbed as if he could sooth the ache there.

He loved Grace. He loved her. After forty years on this earth, he finally understood what it meant to be in love. From the moment he woke up until the time he went to sleep, he wanted to be next to her…to talk to her…to make her laugh…to be with her. His life didn’t work without her. She made everything special. She was his family. She was his home.

Was losing his playbook worth losing her?

No…absolutely not. She was his life and the book was nothing more than paper. She was everything, and it was nothing. Twenty years from now he wouldn’t even remember having it. It didn’t mean a thing.

But it did. The small, dark part of his mind screamed Grace couldn’t be trusted stepped forward and took a bow. It was right. How could he ever trust her again?

One desperate act now would lead to another and another. He was devastated. Grace wasn’t the woman he’d thought her to be.

What if she confessed? Would that make it better?

Yes, she was under a lot of stress with her uncle. People made mistakes when they weren’t thinking clearly. He’d hear her side. She’d tell him what she’d done. Hell, he didn’t give a damn about the book. He’d certainly made his share of mistakes.

Grace always did the right thing, so one little mistake shouldn’t change everything.

He gathered the bills, tapped them into a neat pile, and slid them back into the envelope.

So what if she’d sold the book? They could get past this. She’d confess and he’d forgive her. It would make their relationship stronger. The lead weight in his stomach disagreed.

Three days later, Grace walked into her bedroom and pulled the white paper bank envelope out of her purse. She finally had all the money for Belle Verde. After looking at all of the options, she’d decided Belle Verde was the best choice, because it was closest to the house. No more would she have to drive an hour to see him. She opened her nightstand to add the last two thousand dollars she’d gotten when she’d cashed her paycheck. She kept the money she’d gotten from the sale of her father’s guitar in the same plain brown envelope she’d gotten it in. It was strange, only CoCo had noticed her missing guitar.

She pulled the drawer open wide. The money was gone.

Her heart pounded into overdrive. That was all the money she had in the world. She pulled the drawer all the way out and looked behind it. Nothing. She looked on the floor, under the bed, behind the nightstand. No envelope.

She threw open all the drawers in her dresser. Nothing. She moved onto the closet. All she saw where her hanging clothes. What about the bathroom?

She tore open the vanity drawers and only found her makeup, toothpaste, and toothbrush.

She leaned against the vanity, the cold marble tile biting into her back though her thin cotton T-shirt.

Maybe the boys had been playing in here and found it? She’d ask them. They might have thought it was pirate treasure and hidden it. They weren’t allowed in her bedroom when she wasn’t around, but that didn’t mean they didn’t come in here.

“Are you looking for this?” Chord filled the doorway. He held up the envelope.

“Thanks.” She blew out a long relieved breath. “I thought I was losing my mind. Where did I leave it?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to notice it was missing.” He moved out of the doorway. “Can we talk?”

She followed him into the bedroom. He sat on the bed.

She sat beside him. Man did her feet hurt. She glanced down at her cute red sandals and vowed to only wear tennis shoes from now on. “What’s up?”

“I know about the playbook.” His face was completely blank and his voice was monotone.

She waited for more, but he wasn’t being particularly forthcoming.

“Okay. What about the playbook?” She had the distinct feeling she was missing something.

“I understand why you did it. I’m not blaming you, but I wish you’d come to me first.” He held up the envelope. “You know I wanted to give you the money.”

She blinked and tried to figure out what was going on. It was like he’d picked up in the middle of a conversation, but she hadn’t been a part of the beginning.

“What are you talking about?” Maybe she could pry a bit more info from him.

“Please don’t deny it. I don’t care about the playbook, but I need for you to be honest. I’ve already forgiven you, but for our relationship to continue, I need for you to admit it.” He turned to her, and the sadness in his eyes had her pulling him into a hug.

She pulled him to her. “Admit what?”

He stiffened and pulled away. “Just tell me the truth. We can get past this.”

The first tremors of fear tingled down her spine. Tell him the truth about what?

“I don’t understand. Have I done something to make you angry?” She racked her brain and couldn’t come up with a thing. Unless…he knew about the baby.

He set down the envelope and took her hands in his. “You can tell me anything, but make sure it’s the truth. I don’t care about the playbook. I care about you. We’re good together, but I don’t think I can handle living with the lies…not again.”

Her fear was mounting by the second. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re beginning to scare me.”

“You needed money. I understand that. I’m sure if I were in your position I would have considered doing the same.” He nodded and smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you spit it out?”

“You took the playbook and sold it.” He dropped her hands and picked up the envelope. “I might have done the same thing in your shoes.”

The pieces of the puzzle where starting to fall into place. He had no idea she’d sold her father’s guitar. She laughed, and the dread eating away at her insides turned to relief. “I got that money from selling my father’s guitar. Is your playbook missing?”

“Oh.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Your guitar was worth eight thousand dollars?”

He’d counted her money too. So he’d been through her things and counted her money. She’d known he had trust issues, but she’d thought they were beyond this.

“Yes. Jimmy Hendrix played it at Woodstock. It’s worth a lot more, but I needed the money fast.” The joy she’d felt at having been found innocent was quickly being replaced by anger.

“Then what happened to my playbook?” The look on his face said he wanted so badly to believe her, but he didn’t.

“I have no idea.” She stood, crossed her arms, and paced back and forth in the small bedroom. “Let me get this straight. Your playbook goes missing, and I’m the first suspect? Why?”

“Well, when you say it like that, it sounds bad. At first I just thought maybe you’d taken it to read. With your newfound love of football, I thought you might find it interesting. So I came up here looking for it—”

“You went through my drawers and found the money, so naturally that meant I’d stolen your book and sold it.” She wanted to yell and scream, but the hurt cut too deep. He didn’t trust her. After everything she’d done for him, he didn’t trust her.

If her Aunt Shirley had said it once, she’d said it a thousand times, “Trust was the basis for love.” If he did not trust her, he could not love her. The realization was like a two-by-four to the heart. She loved him and was carrying his child, but he didn’t trust her.

“Again, when you say it like that it sounds worse than it is.” He rose and tried to put his arm around her, but she backed away.

“You don’t trust me.” She spat the words out. “After everything, you don’t trust me. I love you, but that isn’t enough.”

“I’m sorry. I have issues with trust.” He was sorry, it was written all over his face. He’d truly believed she’d stolen from him.

She thought back. How long had it been since she’d seen that envelope of money? A couple of days maybe. He’d said he’d been waiting for her to come to him. Realization dawned. “How long have you thought I took your playbook?”

“Three days.”

That was the shattering blow.

“So for the past three days you’ve thought I was a thief?” She paced back and forth. “For the last three days, you’ve gone about your business…” She put her hand over her mouth, “We had sex. You had sex with me thinking that I’d stolen from you?”

He couldn’t care about someone he’d accused of stealing. He didn’t love her and would never love her. She didn’t matter. That’s how he could sleep with her and know in his heart she’d stolen his playbook.

That cut her to the core. Her soul ached with longing for him to love her back.

She was a fling…a casual affair…another in a long line of women who’d taken from him. She’d worked so hard to be different, but it didn’t matter because he’d classified her with every other woman he’d ever been with.

This was her fault, she’s the one who’d fallen in love with him. He’d never promised her anything or pretended to be anyone but himself. All of a sudden the walls, the house, felt like it was closing in on her. She needed to get out of here. Just for the night. She couldn’t stay here one second longer.

She grabbed her purse. “I’m going to see my uncle.”

He grasped her arm, but she dodged his hand.

“Wait, I’ll go with you. It’s time I meet him, don’t you think?” His tone was light, unconcerned. He had no idea how much he’d just hurt her.

“Not this time.” The hurt was turning to tears, and she needed to get out of there as fast as she could. She threw him a plastic smile and walked out of the room. She made it down the stairs and out the door without looking back.

She had to leave…for good. She couldn’t stay. Chord didn’t love her. It was time for her to go. But how could she leave the kids? She shook her head. It was better to leave now than waiting until the baby started to show. She slammed the keys into the ignition and turned the key. She shifted into first and sped down the driveway.

She had to go now. There was no other choice. She was a strong person, but living under the same roof as Chord, seeing him every day, and knowing he would someday move onto another girl would kill her. That was worse than losing CoCo and the boys. She loved them all so much, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Chord had the distinct feeling he’d just screwed up the most important relationship of his life. He plunked down in his desk chair and stared at the envelope of money on his desk. He had no idea why he’d brought it with him downstairs, but here it was.

She’d sold her father’s guitar…not only did it have sentimental value, but it was her means of livelihood. Why hadn’t she asked him for the money?

Because it wasn’t her way.

He scraped his fingers across his face. Grace had a problem asking for help—that was on her. But he’d just compounded it by accusing her of stealing.

It had been an honest mistake, but not one he’d have made if he hadn’t had past experience with untrustworthy females. However, that wasn’t Grace’s fault. She’d never done anything but love and support him.

Had he just ruined everything? She’d never run out before. Sure, she’d gone off to see her uncle plenty of times, but never with this urgency. It was like she couldn’t get out of the house fast enough.

The missing playbook was minor, but he had a feeling that he’d just elevated it to major league status. He’d find a way to make it up to her. These last few weeks she’d been distant. He’d get to the bottom of that too. He wanted, no needed, her in his life. She didn’t get to walk out on him. They would get through this.

“Dad.” Cart knocked on the open door. “I forgot to give this back.”

He went to the nearest chair, upended his backpack, and spilled everything out.

“What are you doing?” Chord leaned forward as if he could prevent the tidal wave of junk from going everywhere.

“Here.” Cart dug through the crap and came up with a crunched-up yellow spiral. The playbook. “Sorry I forgot about it.”

“You took it?” Chord reached across the desk for it.

“Yes, you said I could.” He began stuffing things back into his backpack. “Last week, I asked you if I could take it for show and tell, and you said yes.”

“When?” Chord tried to smooth the book out, but it was mangled. “I did not.”

“Yes you did. You and Grace were whispering on the couch, and HW and I walked in and turned on the lights. You told us to stay in the hall and not to come into the living room. I asked if I could borrow your playbook, and you said, “Uh huh.”

“No I didn’t.” Had he? That night he’d managed to get Grace’s shirt off and was removing her bra when his sons had walked in on them. He’d been more focused on getting Grace dressed than what his sons had been saying. “Did I promise anything else?”

“Yep, you’re buying me and HW matching Porsches on our sixteenth birthday.” He grinned.

“Nice try, Sport.” Grace’s breasts were impressive, but he’d have remembered about the cars.

“What did you do?” CoCo stomped into his office and threw herself angrily into the chair beside Cart. “Grace ran out of here crying.”

Grace was crying? It was official, he was an ass…a big giant ass.

“Grace and I had a disagreement. I was wrong.” He palms were starting to sweat. He’d made Grace cry. He was prepared to beg, grovel, lay prostate at her feet, but he wouldn’t let her go.