Devlin's Grace (17 page)

“How’s that?”
He sounded curious not angry.

She intended what she said to be
amusing, a little joke, nothing more. “You’re not a devil and never were, but
it doesn’t matter what you’ve done, you have Grace now.”

Devlin’s eyes became distant as
if he traveled to a faraway place.
 
His
body stilled, and in the room Gracie sensed the same dead calm as before a
storm.
 
She tensed, now afraid she’d gone
too far or touched some scarred nerve somewhere. She waited for his response,
her hands resting across his knees where her head had just laid.

After a pause of a minute or a
year or maybe half a lifetime, Devlin leaned forward.
 
He took her face between his hands, gentle as
a spring breeze.
 
“Gracie, honey, you’re
my salvation and I know it.
 
You’re a God
damn miracle in my life and I love you.
 
If I don’t burn in hell someday, it’s because of you.”

Then he kissed her mouth, slow
and with the pent up longing of abstinence.
 
Devlin savored her lips between his, caressed and cosseted them.
 
Gracie kissed him back, sealing his vow with
promise.
 

Devlin reached down, shifted her
and pulled her up into his lap where he kissed her again, longer.
 
Then he clasped her in his arms and kept her
close until the shadows of dusk surrounded them.

Chapter
Ten

Thanksgiving morning dawned crisp
but clear.
 
Although the drive to the
farm wasn’t far, they headed out early.
 
Until they left, Gracie figured Devlin would want to take his motorcycle,
but he shook his head.

“Babe, I don’t want the first
impression I make on your folks to be my devil horns,” he explained.
 
“They may decide I’m Satan anyway, but I’d
rather not offer any suggestions.
 
I
thought we’d take the car.”

“Okay,” Gracie said. Although her
mom would cook everything she could and sister Faith would drag more dishes
from Joplin, she baked four pies, two
apple
and two
pumpkin to bring. “It’ll be easier to bring the pies anyway.”

Baking pies proved she could
cook, after all.
 
Devlin’s food poisoning
made Gracie both self-conscious about food preparation and more vigilant.
 
After he recovered, she tossed out anything
suspect including the inch or so of mayonnaise left in the jar.
 
Although the date wasn’t expired, she
suspected it might be the culprit – it or the single egg.
 
Now Gracie checked dates at the supermarket
on everything she bought, and she’d also found a meat thermometer at one of the
discount stores.
 
Before she served any
kind of meat, she made certain it was safe.

Thinking of his recent illness
prompted her to ask, as she did at least once a day now, “Do you feel all
right?”

Most men would’ve tired of it by
now, but Devlin smiled. “Babe, I’m good.
 
Don’t worry.”

Neither mentioned he hadn’t dared
drink coffee for fear of upchucking it until Sunday morning or how cautious he
was about what he ate and how much.
 
As
he climbed behind the wheel of the Ford, his color restored to a healthy hue,
Gracie realized she’d never ridden in a car with him before and said so.

Devlin laughed. “I guess you
haven’t.
 
You probably want to put your
seat belt on, Gracie.”

She thought he joked until they
hit Highway 60 heading west out of town.
 
As soon as they cleared the interchange beneath the James River Freeway,
Devlin opened up the Ford as if he learned to drive on the racing
circuits.
 
Scenery flashed by outside the
windows in a colorful blur, and Gracie hung onto the dash with one hand, braced
tight in the seat.

“Aren’t we going a little fast?”
she cried.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Devlin, please slow down. You’ll
get a ticket.”

“I have to slow down when we hit
Republic anyway,” he said, but he lowered his speed to please Gracie.

 
On the narrow two lane road leading out to
where she’d been raised, Gracie pointed out the little landmarks of her
childhood, and once they turned onto the dirt road leading to the farm, she
chattered like a squirrel, nervous and excited.
 
She sneaked a glance at Devlin who didn’t seem perturbed in the least
he’d meet her parents within a few minutes.

The familiar two story farm
house, weathered for decades, sat beneath the same old tall walnut trees.
 
Round green nuts littered the ground beneath
them and her dad’s old Chevy pickup sat in its customary spot.
 
The family Buick, long in service, parked
beside the truck and a newer SUV was behind it.

“That must be Faith’s car,”
Gracie said. “You know, my older sister.”

Devlin nodded. “I remember. Don’t
you have a couple of brothers, too?”

She did and it pleased her he
hadn’t forgotten.
 
“Yes.
 
I haven’t mentioned them much, but they’ll be
here today, Bill and Chuck, with their families.
  
We must be early.”

“Better than late,” Dev said.

He carried in the pies for her
and as soon as they stepped through the back door, a wave of memories swamped
Gracie.
 
Mom’s kitchen hadn’t changed since
her earliest memories.
 
African violets
still bloomed in the side window, the familiar
Kitchen Prayer
plaque hung in the same spot and so did the framed
drawing from Gracie’s very first day of school.
 
Her mother glanced up from the stove, face flushed with heat and smiled.

“Gracie! You’re here.
 
I didn’t expect you for another hour or so.”

Gracie crossed the worn
floorboards and hugged her mom. “Devlin drives fast,” she said with a smile.
“Mom, this is Devlin, Devlin, this is my mom, Peggy Alloway.”

Dev joined them and offered his
hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Alloway.”

Peggy wiped her hand on her apron
before she shook Devlin’s. “I’m glad you could come.
 
Is Devlin your first or last name?”

It could’ve turned into a sticky
question with Devlin’s hang up about his first name, but before Gracie could
try to answer, he did.
 
“It’s my last
name.
 
I’m Robert Devlin, like my late
dad, but everyone calls me Devlin.”

Her mom nodded. “Well, Devlin,
can I offer you some coffee or anything?”

 
“Sure, thanks.”
 
He put the four pies on an empty countertop
and parked at the table.

As she poured Devlin a cup, Peggy
Alloway said to her daughter, “Your sister’s in the living room, I think, with
the girls if you want to pop in and say hello.”

If Gracie didn’t know better,
she’d think her mom was trying to get rid of her.
 
The little smirk on Devlin’s face confirmed
it, but he nodded.
 
With his indication
he’d be fine without her, she headed through the dining room into the large
front room.
 
Her sister sat on the couch,
a Kindle in hand, reading.
 
One of
Faith’s two daughters dozed in the armchair and the other sprawled on the
floor, watching the Macy’s parade on television.

“Hey, Sister,” Gracie said.
 
Faith looked up and smiled.

“Gracie!”

They embraced and Gracie sat
down.
  
Marcy, sixteen, and Amy, now
eighteen and a college freshman at MSSU, greeted her.
 
The four females chattered, but Gracie
wondered what her mother and Devlin might be discussing.
 
By the time she found a chance to wander back
to the kitchen, both of her brothers and their families had arrived.
 
Her sister-in-law Charlotte sat at the
kitchen table, and Gracie looked around the room as if Devlin might be hiding
somewhere.

“Mom, where’s Devlin?” she asked.

Preoccupied with kneading hot
roll dough, her mother said, “Oh, I think he went outside with the boys.
 
Your father came in and I introduced
them.
 
It’s going to be a while until we
eat dinner, so I think they’re going to have a shooting match like we used to
do.”

Gracie remembered the
tradition.
 
Like a lot of Ozark families,
they’d set up targets in the east field and spent hours shooting on
Thanksgiving.
 
The custom probably dated
back to pioneer times, she reflected, and she always enjoyed it.
 
She wasn’t sure Devlin would, not with his
military background or his reaction to unexpected firearms noise.
 
Remembering his response to the blanks fired
on the train ride at Silver Dollar City, Gracie worried.
 

“I’ll just run out and say hi to Daddy,”
she said and hustled outside to find Devlin before he suffered a meltdown.
 
Although her dad served in Vietnam, Gracie
wasn’t sure how her family might respond to one of Devlin’s PTSD events.

Dry grass crunched underfoot as
she crossed the back yard and skirted the clothesline.
 
Just as she expected her father and brothers
stood near a makeshift table – a board tossed over a pair of sawhorses – with several
long guns, some rifles, and shotguns.
 
Boxes of shooting clays were there too, along with an automatic clay
thrower.
 
Devlin stood beside her dad and
she joined him, reaching to grasp his hand in hers.
 
He smiled but so far, Gracie saw no evidence
of any emotional distress.

“There you are, girlie,” Anthony
Alloway said. “I wondered when you’d show up out here.
 
Gonna give your old dad a hug?”

“Of course I am, Daddy.” Gracie
untangled from Devlin to embrace her father then each of her brothers.
 
“I guess you’ve all met Devlin.”

“Oh, yeah, we have,” her brother
Bill said. “We’re getting ready to do some shooting.
 
Are you cooking or playing with guns?”

“I don’t know,” Gracie replied,
flustered.
 
So far, Devlin wasn’t
uptight.
 
His relaxed stance reassured
her that a meltdown wasn’t about to happen, but she caught his eye, inquiring
with silent question.

“My daughter can shoot as well as
the boys,” her dad bragged. “Gracie’s better than Faith ever was, but Faith
never did have the interest.
 
Are you a
fair shot, Devlin?”

To Gracie’s surprise, he nodded.
“I do all right.
 
I made my
qualifications in the Marine Corps, earned a Distinguished marksman badge,
too.”

Chuck, her oldest brother,
whooped aloud. “This’ll be fun, then.
 
We’ve got some real competition.
 
Let’s see what you can do, Devlin.”

Gracie opened her mouth to
protest then closed it.
 
If she said
anything now, her family would think Dev was a wimp or freak.
 
As if he read her thoughts, Devlin said,
“Sure, let me just walk Gracie back to the house first.
 
I’ll be back.”

He grasped her hand and she took
it, confused and more than a little worried.
 
As soon as they were out of easy earshot, Gracie halted. “Dev, are you
okay with this?”

Devlin gave her a sweet little
smile. “Babe, I’m fine.”

“But at Silver Dollar City, when
the conductor fired the shotgun, you reacted,” Gracie said.

“I didn’t expect it,” he said.
“It makes a difference, honey.
 
Yeah, I
freaked out, but I didn’t know it was coming.
 
I do today so it’s okay.
 
I’m
about to impress the hell out of your dad and brothers.”

His confidence eased most of her
worries.
 
“Well, promise to be careful,
Dev.”

“I will.” His grin widened. “You
never mentioned you can shoot, babe.”

“It never came up.”

“Well, I’m proud of you, Gracie.”
Devlin sounded like he meant it. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the house to
make it look good, but I want a kiss for my trouble.”

So did Gracie.
 
Beneath the branches of a large tree, Devlin
pulled her into his arms.
 
He kissed her,
his mouth slow and tender over her lips.
 
His kiss evoked emotion and ignited passion, but she’d have to wait for
anything more.
 
Before he let go, her
niece Marcy burst through the backdoor.

“Oh, like whoa, Aunt Gracie,” she
said with fervor. “Nice but Gramma wants you in the kitchen.”