Restoration (21 page)

Chapter 22

Grace knew she was dreaming, this was how it always started.

The sand was warm beneath her feet. She dug her toes in deeper, relishing the feel of each granule. Everything else was numb.

John was dead. The words kept repeating over and over in her head. So she concentrated on the feel of the sand and her toes as she ran down the beach.

August heat permeated everything around her, but her body was chilled. The morning was filled with disbelief, pain, and a feeling of complete emptiness. As if a part of her had been surgically removed. Phantom limbs. The words flashed in her memory and she realized that John was now like her phantom. She wondered if it would always feel like he was there, with her, watching her.

Her heart lurched and she ran harder, faster. Her legs were on the verge of collapse as she finally stopped. Flashes of the night before streamed past her each time she closed her eyes. His parents, grief-stricken and pale, Captain Roman holding her back, away from the destroyed body of-.

“Grace? Grace, love. Wake up!” Drew shook her from her dream.

Her face was wet with tears and her cheeks ached as though she’d been crying for hours.

“Are you all right? You were crying in your sleep.” Drew’s eyes were full of guarded concern.

“Just a bad dream.”

“You were calling out for John.”

Her heart fell. “I was dreaming about the day after he died.”

Drew traced circles on her back. “I see.” He pulled her tight against his chest and sighed. “It’s all right. You’re fine now.”

“Am I?”

The answering silence weighed heavily on her as she pulled from his arms and dressed.

“I’ll try, Grace. This is all so strange, but I’ll try to understand. I want this to work.”

She turned sad eyes on him. “Are you sure?”

“I can’t promise it will be perfect. All I can promise is that I’ll do my best. No more secrets and no more hiding.”

She nodded and pulled on her shoes. “I’ve got to go. Valerie and I have a meeting later. I need to eat something, get a run in, and shower.”

Drew checked the clock on his phone. “Quarter past nine, just in time for breakfast, then. Come along, let’s eat.”

The restaurant was packed with the Saturday morning breakfast crowd. When Drew walked through the door, Grace could actually feel the oxygen leave the room as people gasped in recognition. The chatter eventually subsided, casting an eerie silence across most of the dining room. She took his hand and they sat together in a small booth.

Drew shifted uncomfortably as he glanced around and caught the eyes of the curious onlookers.

“I’m sorry about this,” Grace said as their waitress, a perky twenty-something with a trainee badge, brought them menus.

“Hi there, welcome to the Windsurfer. My name’s Missy and I’ll be your waitress today. What would you all like to drink?” The waitress brought her attention up from the pen and pad she had poised and ready.

“Hi, Missy.”

“Oh, my God, Grace! What are you doing back?” She lit up with excitement, then her face softened and she reached a hand out to touch her arm. “How have you been? You holding up?”

“Just some problems on the work site. I hope to head back soon.” She smiled at Drew. “I’ll take some coffee.”

“Sure thing.” Missy turned to Drew. “And what about you?” She did a double take when she looked up from her notepad. “John?” It was almost a whisper.

A look of hurt passed over Drew’s face and was quickly masked by an apologetic smile. “It’s Drew, actually. I’ll take some tea if you have it.”

Missy nodded, dumbfounded, and walked back to the kitchen.

Aside from uncomfortable stares and sidelong glances from the other patrons in the restaurant, breakfast was pleasant. The pair ate in a comfortable silence, eyes occasionally meeting and dropping back to their plates.

Heat crept up her cheeks at the whispers she heard as they left the Windsurfer and headed down the boardwalk hand-in-hand. The weather was warmer than it had been since she’d first arrived back in her hometown. She still needed a jacket, but wasn’t feeling the bone-numbing chill of winter anymore.

Drew laced his fingers with hers as they strolled, taking in the town she’d grown up in.

“There’s the tree I hit when my dad tried to teach me to drive for the first time. It’s grown taller, but you can still see the scar from the old truck.” She pointed at a line of trees in front of a parking lot.

“How on earth did you wind up hitting that tree? You must’ve gone completely over the curb.”

“Yep. He told me we were in reverse. Obviously, we weren’t. I panicked and hit the gas instead of the brake. Not my finest moment.”

Drew pasted a solemn look on his face as he nodded. “Nor the tree’s, I’d wager.”

She laughed and hooked her arm through his. “Nope.”

They continued down the boardwalk. Most of the shops were just opening for the day, running on winter seasonal hours. Her steps faltered when she saw three figures in the familiar shade of blue that signified a fireman’s uniform. They were standing outside a coffee shop, paper cups in hand.

“Crap . . . oh, crap,” she muttered under her breath when she realized they’d caught sight of her as they gestured in her direction.

“Grace? What the hell is going on here? Who is this?” Donovan Miller, one of John’s closest friends and co-workers, approached her with a hostile look carved into his face.

“Donovan, this is Drew Tensley. We met in Braley, the town I’m working in near London.”

“What the fuck, Grace? This is too much. Roman said John’s ghost was here. How could you do this? Replace him with a cheap copy. I bet you’re fucking him, too.”

Drew stiffened at the insult. “Oi, watch it, mate.”

“This is sick, Grace. You know how much this town loved him. And now you’re parading around your new boy-toy like John never existed. Does Marianne know about this?” He motioned to Drew.

The venom in his voice cut her. She squared her shoulders and stared him straight in the face. “I told her this morning, Donovan. I think you need to leave now.”

“You’re seriously fucked up. Get some help. What would John think?”

“All right, mate, time to shove off.” Drew pushed between them and leveled his eyes on Donovan’s face.

“Grace, seriously? You need to talk to someone.”

Donovan turned and walked back to the two other firefighters and they headed out of sight. Grace let out a shaky breath.

“All right?” Drew asked, his hand a gentle weight on her lower back.

“Not really. I will be, though.” She turned to him. “Can you handle going to John’s old house? I think Marianne needs to see you before Donovan makes his rounds and beats us there.”

He swallowed. “Well, I suppose I can. Grace, it’s a little weird.”

“He was your brother. You should know about him.”

He nodded his head in assent. “You’re right. I just don’t want to cause more hurt.”

“She wants to see you for herself. I think it’ll be cathartic for her. Closure, you know? You’re her connection to John, even though you didn’t know him.”

He blew out a breath. “All right. Shall we ring her up, then?”

Marianne was waiting on the front steps as
they pulled into the driveway. She’d sounded anxious over the phone, but willing to meet with them. Drew’s jaw clenched when he saw the matriarch of John’s family sitting there, waiting. Grace steeled herself as she put up a wall against the tide of grief rushing in. She hurt for Marianne while she watched the myriad of emotions cross her face as he walked up to her, the spitting image of the son she loved so much. Marianne’s features softened from tense and stern to achingly heartbroken.

Grace walked behind Drew as he approached the woman who’d raised his brother. Tears swam in Marianne’s eyes. She was clearly moved while taking in his familiar features, but she held them in check, ever the strong and resilient mother.

Grace could feel the tension coming off Drew in waves. His jaw remained clenched and his hands were stiff at his sides.

“Mari, this is Drew Tensley.”

“My God, you’re the spitting image of him.” She reached her hand out to touch his cheek and he visibly stiffened. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”

“Mrs. Oliver, it’s a pleasure. A weird one, but I’m glad I could meet you.” Drew offered a hand to her.

She nodded and shook his hand, all the while her gaze remained glued to his face.

“Let’s go inside, I’ve made some tea. Drew, I assume you drink tea?”

He smiled and nodded. “I’m as British as they come.”

The trio made their way into the Oliver family living room. The place was practically a shrine to John. Pictures graced every surface, mementos of his life, and of course, his time with Grace.

In the center of the room’s main wall was the shadowbox Marianne’s kids had made to commemorate him. His badge from the fire department, pictures of him in uniform, and his nameplate were displayed with pride in the box, along with photos from his childhood and a picture of him and Grace, dressed for a charity function. Placed next to the picture was the engagement ring John was never able to give her. Above the shadowbox, hung John’s helmet, still bearing scorch marks from the final time he’d worn it.

Drew’s eyes fixed on the photos of Grace and John, smiling, kissing, holding each other tightly. A pained look crossed his face when he saw the engagement ring. She couldn’t help but notice the tightness around his eyes and the thin line of his mouth as he tried to contain his own feelings for the sake of Marianne.

“John loved tea. He never drank coffee. I got used to making tea when we lived in Scotland,” Mari said as she brought out the tea tray.

“Mari, I know this is strange . . .” Grace began.

“It’s amazing. I feel like you’ve given me a chance to look at him again.” She turned her face to Drew. “I know this must be surreal for you, but I just can’t ignore what a blessing you are. I lost my sweet boy and every day I’ve prayed for a way to see his face again.”

“I, um. I’m sorry. I’ve got to . . .” Drew’s swift departure startled her as he rushed out the door.

She gave Marianne an apologetic glance before going after him. “Mari, I’m sorry.”

Tears pooled in the woman’s eyes as she nodded. Grace followed Drew’s path and found him seated on the back of the truck.

“Grace, that was . . . I’m sorry for being a git. I can’t do this.”

She placed a light hand on his arm, worried about his reaction. “I’m sorry. This was too much. Mari is still grieving.”

“No, it’s not her. It’s you.”

She was taken aback. “Me? What did I do?”

“You’re everywhere in that house. It was filled with you and the happiness the two of you had. There was a bloody great engagement ring next to a picture of you two!” His hands clenched on his knees as he avoided her eyes. “All I could think of was how much I wanted that to be me in those photos. How much you had with him that I will never get to share for the first time with you. How we can never go anywhere without people wondering if you’re just using me to replace him.”

A lump formed in her throat as his words sunk in. “You’re right,” she said softly, eyes trained on the scuff marks scraped into the toes of her boots. “Come on, let’s go.”

She drove in silence back to the hotel. Drew stared out the window, one hand worrying at his ear, knees bouncing in agitation. When they arrived, she followed him to his room, heart aching with what she was about to do. She set her purse on the small table and collected her small personal items that had been forgotten over the few days of his stay.

“You need to go, Drew.” Her voice was flat and controlled.

“What?”

“I said go. Go home to Braley. This . . .” She motioned between them. “This doesn’t work. It’s too much.”

His mouth fell open as he tried to come up with something to say.

“I’m done. I need you to go.” Her voice quavered, but she managed to get the words out.

“Grace, if this is about what I said earlier I . . .” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Jesus. I’m sorry.”

As she turned to gather her purse, he grabbed her arm. “Don’t run away from me.” He pulled her close. “I’ve seen you do this before. I know now what it really was. Fear. Guilt. I’m real and I’m here right now, before your eyes, wanting to love you.”

She steeled herself against him. She knew what she needed to do, but the words didn’t want to come. She pushed out of his embrace and stood tall. She took a deep breath, strengthening her resolve.

“I don’t want you to love me, Drew. I want you to go. Maybe they’re right, maybe I
am
using you to replace John.”

He blanched at the words and she knew they’d hit their mark. She hated herself for it. She took that moment to head out the door and out of his life. As she drove away, she glanced in her rearview mirror hoping to see him—hoping he wouldn’t appear—she wasn’t sure which.

The mirror reflected only her eyes and the empty doorway to his room.