Saving Gracie (13 page)

He couldn’t even hold a grudge over Sam’s labeling him a lazy fool. Not until he found out what the rage-fueled speech truly meant. He’d had his suspicions for years. Now, he could know for certain—it was clear the same price would be paid no matter what.

“His mother was an alcoholic socialite who pawned her child from an affair off on my best friend. And how did Johnny get repaid? By a ‘son’ who rejected working at this all-important family company—until he botched his legal career.”

Sam banged on the table with his fist. Jake swore the sound could have been his heart. Child of an affair? Not Johnny Peoples’s son?

He’d often wondered if something like this would explain his father’s coldness over the years, but no. It couldn’t really be true. Port Provident was the quintessential small Texas town. Gossip edged out high school football as the number one pastime. If Sam’s allegations contained even a shred of truth, surely the information would have reached Jake’s ears over the years. Through all the questions and the doubts, he’d clung to the fact that no one had ever confronted him to his face with that ugliest of suspicions.

“Your name may read John Edward Peoples IV on your birth certificate. But Johnny Peoples isn’t listed as your father. There’s a blank line there. Haven’t you ever wondered why? It wasn’t an oversight. He wouldn’t allow your mother to insult him in that way.” Sam slouched in his chair, spent. His words came out in a surly growl. “Let’s just take the vote, Diana.”

To his right, Ken Potter shook his head. His confusion mirrored Jake’s own. “There’s not going to be a vote,” his words came out slowly, framed in disbelief.

“What do you mean?” Numbness overtook Jake. He couldn’t feel his mouth and tongue moving, even as they spoke the words.

“The bylaws state that a direct descendant of the founder, John Peoples, must be CEO. If Sam’s allegations are true, and you don’t qualify, then the board must look elsewhere in the family or change the bylaws, neither of which we’re prepared to do today.” Ken’s eyes looked pleadingly at Diana.

“You’re right, Ken.” Jake heard his grandmother’s heart break with three simple syllables. “I don’t know why Sam’s bringing up these allegations today, but...”

“Diana, you know I’m not lying.”

She backed her chair from the table and stood.

“There’s no vote. Meeting adjourned.” Her voice trailed out on a heavy breath. Without another sound, Nana walked out of the boardroom her father-in-law, husband and son all had once dominated. Even her shoes didn’t echo on the granite flooring.

Eight other members of the board followed quickly. No one dared to let out so much as a whisper. There would be time enough for hushed voices and gasps of surprise behind carefully shielding hands.

Sam Pennington stopped short of the doorway. He turned and looked at Jake. His mouth opened, stalled, then closed again.

And then, the keeper of Johnny Peoples’s legacy walked out the door, leaving only bitter memories—long past and brand-new—behind.

Jake stood alone in the boardroom over which he’d hoped to preside.

The portraits lining the back wall dared to make eye contact with him. John Edward Peoples, John Edward Peoples II, and John Edward Peoples III all stared at Jake, unblinking.

Swiftly, Jake grabbed the clear water glass from in front of him on the table. In his palm, it felt cool and smooth.

Jake felt like neither.

He hurled the glass at the last oil painting with all the awkwardness of the young boy whose father would never play catch with him. He threw it at the canvas with all the rage of the young boy whose father would never say “I love you” to him.

Now he knew why. All those years of coldness. All those words of anger. All those instances without parental support.

Johnny Peoples had never told Jake “I love you” because he couldn’t. Johnny Peoples had never loved Jake.

John Edward Peoples III took a direct hit just under the left eye. The tearing of the canvas as the painting in its gilded frame hit the floor acted on Jake like the release of a grenade pin.

Emotions exploded. Jake had lived a lie for thirty-four years. How could he ever trust anyone again?

Fathers should protect their sons.

And so should grandmothers. Not only had he lost his family legacy today, the long-known-yet-buried secret caused Jake to lose faith in the one person he’d always thought he could trust.

* * *

Gracie shuffled through the small pile of papers on her desk. Capping her red pen, she set aside the day’s grading. She knew some teachers found paperwork like this tedious, but Gracie enjoyed the process. It gave her the opportunity to see the progress of her students. It always felt good to know she’d been able to help good people further their grasp of the English language as they sought to assimilate into this country, which had given them all—herself included—so much.

Now that she’d finished her work for the day, it was time to start thinking about tonight. She couldn’t wait to see Jake and to hear about his presentation.

Normally, for a casual event like tonight’s fund-raiser at the church, Gracie would just pull out a pair of cotton shorts and a casual, solid-colored T-shirt and pair it all with the official beach-town footwear: flip-flops. But not tonight. As she climbed the stairs, she mentally flipped through her small closet.

She wanted to surprise Jake. She wanted to look like someone the CEO of an important local company would be proud to be seen with. She knew that, in spite of his doubts yesterday, the other members of the board would see through one man’s vendetta and confirm Jake anyway.

Gracie pulled out her two favorite cotton sundresses and laid them carefully on the bed. She stared at them, brought over jewelry to match, then stared some more.

Which would knock Jake off his feet?

She giggled like a high schooler picking out a formal for a school dance, then realized she’d better watch herself. It was a casual church picnic with a friend. She’d attended hundreds of social events at the church—no need to treat this as anything other than what it really was.

Gracie decided on the teal dress with the flirty skirt, largely because she loved the chunky jewelry she could pair with it. Because accessories cost money she’d never had much of, she didn’t own a lot of jewelry—but this set was a gift from
Tía
Elena, her mother’s sister back in Mexico.

Made of close to fifty pieces of deep blue turquoise about the size of quarters, each minimally finished so that no two looked alike, the necklace made a statement. The sterling silver and red coral accents only added to the exclamation factor. She threaded the matching earrings through her ears, then added the bracelet and a ring that covered half her right ring finger.

“Ah, qué bella. Perfecto.”
Gracie stood back from the full-length antique mirror in the corner and let the wide grin on her face become the final accessory. She twirled on one sandal-clad toe, letting the dress swirl around her.

The outfit looked beautiful. It had come together perfectly. Now all she needed was a phone call from Jake’s secretary, telling her when he would arrive.

In the bathroom, Gracie touched and retouched her lipstick until she wore a deep crimson-and-rose hybrid created from multiple tubes of color. She brushed her hair seemingly a hundred times, then decided to plug in her curling iron. She rolled each segment and styled the curls simply by running her fingers through them, finishing with a light squirt of hair spray.

What else could she do while she waited? She expected Jake’s phone call by now, and the nervous excitement began to overtake her body.

She twitched.

She fidgeted.

She paced.

And then she heard a thump-thump-thump from the heavy brass knocker at her front door.

Gracie raced down the stairs so fast the clatter of her sandals on the wooden stairs echoed throughout the entire house, from upstairs living quarters to downstairs school rooms.

“Jake! I thought you were going to call!” In spite of her earlier admonitions to herself, she couldn’t keep the smile off her face or out of her voice when she opened the door.

The tiny bubbles of carbonated excitement that had been percolating inside her at a feverish pitch for the past hour all popped in rapid staccato as she took in the state of his expression.

She searched for the emerald sparkle that always drew her in like a magnet. Instead, only a dull, mossy haze glazed over his eyes.

“Jake? What’s the matter?” She pulled the door fully open and stepped aside. “Come in.”

Wordlessly, Jake shuffled through the door. His shoulders slumped, obviously weighed down by far more than his cotton button-down shirt.

Gracie stopped, reached out and grabbed his shoulders. “Jake, say something. What’s wrong?”

“Everything.”

The few remaining bubbles inside Gracie fizzled.

“I don’t understand, Jake.” She couldn’t let go. She now needed him to steady her as much as she’d originally thought he needed her. “Did your father’s friend vote against you?”

“There wasn’t a vote.” His voice sounded flatter than the surf on a hot morning.

“What about your presentation?” She needed to know what he meant. Gracie couldn’t translate what Jake now said into anything that made sense.

“There wasn’t a presentation. There couldn’t be a presentation or a vote because the bylaws state that a direct descendant of the company founder must be CEO.” His vacant stare darted down and locked with hers for a brief pause, then pulled up and connected idly with the corner at the back of the hallway ceiling. “There isn’t even really a Jake Peoples.”

Gracie grabbed the collar on his shirt. Her fingernails slid across the starchy sheen. The cool slickness of the fabric contrasted with the white-hot need she had to shake the information out of him. “You’re speaking in riddles, Jake.”

“I’m not my father’s son and I will never be the CEO of Peoples Property Group. Sam Pennington saw to it that in death, my father dealt the blow he never could in life.” His cadence picked up speed and his tone increased in volume. “I told you last night your family wasn’t like mine. It’s because my family lived a lie. Every day for the last thirty-four years. A lie. My father hated me not because he thought I was lazy or because I didn’t do what he thought was proper, as he always told me. He hated me because my mother made him claim someone else’s son as his own.”

He ripped his gaze from the faraway corner and shook off Gracie’s hands with one pounding step backward.

“I don’t even know who I am, Gracie!” Jake roared. Each syllable sounded less like the utterance of a heartbroken man and more like that of a bleeding animal.

Gracie had longed for Jake’s explanation, but finally hearing it took away all her own speech. What could she say?

No condolence seemed appropriate to give for being robbed of one’s birthright.

Maybe words weren’t necessary.

Gracie knew she couldn’t erase his past, but she could provide a soft landing for his present. Her arms went around his neck, and she pulled tightly, trying to signal that he could lean on her.

There were no butterflies in her stomach, no feelings of excitement as there had been just a few minutes before when she’d heard Jake’s knock at the door. This wasn’t a hug of emotion. It was a wordless statement of friendship and support.

And the gift felt completely natural to give, with no further expectation.

What kind of father would be so cruel to a boy he raised? Parenthood wasn’t just genetics. When Jake deepened the embrace, the shared connection caused tears to well up in Gracie’s own eyes.

As her tears freed, Jake pulled back ever so slightly. He leaned his forehead against Gracie’s and linked his fingers through hers.

With her head tilted just slightly, she could watch the wet drops fall on the scuffed wooden floor that had supported the weight of broken hearts for so many years.

* * *

The boisterous sounds coming from the church lawn scratched at Gracie’s eardrums like a cat going after a carpeted post. After the silence in the car and the strained syllables at the house, it took her a moment to adjust to the fact that not everyone was dealing with the extreme emotions Jake faced.

For most people, this was just an ordinary Friday night with friends.

Gracie held on to Jake’s hand as they walked down the sidewalk toward the rows of tables covered with food and silent auction items. Looking out toward the far corner of the church’s property, Gracie could see a group of people holding Save
El Centro
signs and waving at oncoming traffic. Parked nearby was the same white TV van that had brought the news crew to
El Centro
earlier in the week.

She needed to find out what this was all about, but she didn’t want to drag Jake over there and make him feel even worse about today’s turn of events. A news crew might put a camera in Jake’s face and take no prisoners. She had to spare him that further indignity.

Gracie stole a glance at Jake’s profile. The tension made the muscle at the back of his jaw curl up. Maybe the other churchgoers wouldn’t notice that Jake’s usual smooth lines had been chiseled into hard edges, but she did.

But, in typical Jake fashion, not even a single hair was out of place. Nothing spoke to the turmoil within. Well, nothing but the silence between them.

“Jake! Graciela! It’s good to see you both tonight.” Marco Ruiz’s face lit up when he saw them walk into the part of the yard cordoned off for the fund-raiser. Jake nodded.

Gracie decided to speak for them both. “
Holá,
Pastor. Jake even helped
Mamí
and
Papí
make the tamales for tonight.” She gestured at the tables in the distance already covered with food.

“
Bien.
That means you’re one of the family, Jake. Juanita doesn’t let just anyone into her kitchen.” He gave Jake a knowing wink.

Gracie felt certain Pastor Ruiz couldn’t possibly know why Jake flinched a little at the mention of the word
family.
But if he did, maybe he could help. She needed to find an excuse to give them a few moments together. She didn’t know if Jake would open up, but the pastor always amazed her with his perception. It couldn’t hurt to try.