Saving Gracie (14 page)

“There’s Gloria.” She spotted her sister setting up the table for the tamales. The perfect opportunity. “She looks like she might need some help. Be right back.”

She squeezed Jake’s hand before releasing her fingers from between his.

Please, God, speak through Pastor Ruiz. Bring Jake some comfort.

* * *

Jake couldn’t get comfortable in his own skin. Ever since Sam Pennington’s explosive allegations this afternoon, Jake hadn’t felt like himself.

Whoever that was, anyway.

What if he never knew? His so-called father was in the grave. He hadn’t spoken to his mother since he left Port Provident for college—when she, too, had left town. Jake sure didn’t plan to degrade himself in front of Sam Pennington any further by asking for the dirty truth.

“Jake.” Pastor Ruiz waved a hand in front of his face. “You’re right here in front of me, but I can tell your thoughts are miles away. Do you need to get something off your chest?”

If he couldn’t be honest with a man of the cloth, to whom could he come clean? He knew Nana’s etiquette books never would advocate unburdening oneself to a stranger, but he needed to talk to someone who didn’t know him or his family, and wouldn’t judge.

“Today should have been a good day. It should have been the day when I stepped up to the plate and finally took responsibility for my role in my family’s legacy. I should have been named CEO of Peoples Property Group this afternoon. Instead, my late father’s best friend used the opportunity to separate me from my family and my company.”

The day’s shame tasted bitter on his tongue.

“You never knew any of this before this afternoon?”

“I always knew my father didn’t treat me like other fathers treated their sons. We definitely weren’t Ward and Beaver Cleaver. I suspected something wasn’t right, but I was always afraid to put a name on it.” Jake couldn’t hold the big question inside any longer. “If I’m not a part of my own family, Pastor Ruiz, where do I belong?”

Jake could hear the sounds of happy families in the distance, but the laughter couldn’t fill the silent pause that lay between him and the pastor.

“Well, that’s a question with an answer that is both simple and difficult.” He stopped with deliberate thoughtfulness. “Your earthly family may have let you down. But your Heavenly Father knows you inside and out. He calls you His child, and He will not let you down.” Pastor Ruiz’s dark mustache wiggled like a broom as he spoke. His words swept at the cobwebs of neglect and loneliness in Jake’s heart.

He should have known this pep talk would come down to the same old tired Sunday school lesson. He decided to be blunt. “Of course a preacher would say that. I know that’s how you see all this, but that’s just not the God I grew up knowing.”

Acknowledgment came in the form of a knowing nod. “Maybe so, Jake. But there’s only one God. Not one for preachers and another for the people in the pews.”

“Marco!” A slim blonde raised her voice above the din as she walked toward the grassy confessional.

Pastor Ruiz craned his head around to see the owner of the voice. “
Holá, Tía
Angela.” He extended a beefy arm and waved.

Jake looked more closely at the impending visitor.

“Jake, do you know my aunt?”

Of course he did. The wild card on the City Council who had staged that rally on the news and was likely responsible for the signs and TV camera he’d noticed in the distance tonight. He needed to keep his distance from that corner—and from Angela Ruiz’s PR machine. “Hello, Councilwoman Ruiz. You’re the pastor’s aunt?”

Jake watched as Angela gave her nephew a quick peck of greeting on the cheek. Did everyone else have an open and loving family except him? So many friendly people surrounded him here—but he couldn’t remember a time when he felt more in need of a friend.

“
Sí.
His younger aunt. Marco’s father is my oldest brother. I’m the youngest of seven children. Marco here is five years older than me—it’s been the running joke in our family for my entire life.” She smiled. Her relaxed joking and the happiness on the faces of friends and neighbors all around made Jake want to go home and sit in a corner.

He didn’t belong here.

He didn’t belong to his own family.

And he didn’t belong to this “Heavenly Father” Pastor Ruiz talked about. If God did care about him, He wouldn’t have let Jake live a lie for almost three-and-a-half decades.

The numbness inside his mind slid away, replaced by the scarring lava flow of white-hot anger. The muscles in his jaw clenched with a force that ground his back molars tightly together.

“If you’ll excuse me, councilwoman, I need to go find Gracie. Pastor Ruiz, thanks for your time.”

Jake ducked around them and set out in search of Gracie. He knew he’d been abrupt, but if he didn’t get out of here, he knew he was far too likely to explode on someone who wouldn’t deserve that kind of treatment and the presence of the TV cameras scared him. He didn’t want to talk to the media—he didn’t even have the words to talk to Gracie. Jake needed to make his excuses to her. Her sister or parents would be able to take her home. He wasn’t running away, but he knew she’d be better off without his baggage tonight.

* * *

Gracie perched the last bag of tamales for the fund-raiser precariously on top of the pile covering the entire rectangular table. Although a small mountain of bags faced her now, at a price of only $10 for a dozen, Gracie knew the bags would sell faster than snow cones at the height of summer.

Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she raised her eyes to scan the crowd but didn’t see Jake anywhere.

“Oh,
hermana
—while I was at the post office today, I used my extra key and checked your mail for you. I think you’ve been waiting for this.” Gloria lifted her purse off the ground and pulled out a slim envelope.

The faint nubbiness of heavy linen paper rubbed across Gracie’s fingertips as she took the dove-gray envelope from her sister. Printed in a small black typeface in the upper left-hand corner were the words
The Gulf Coast Educational Foundation
paired with a downtown Houston address. She held its promise carefully in her hands.

“Aren’t you going to open it?” Gloria prodded. “You’ve talked about this letter for weeks. Don’t you want to know what it says?”

Gracie slid a finger in the space at the edge of the sealed flap, then stopped abruptly. “But, Gloria, what if it’s bad news?”

“It’s not going to be, silly. You’ve said all along how
El Centro
is the perfect candidate for this grant. It’s going to be great news, and we’re going to celebrate it here with everyone. Open it up or I will.”

Gloria lunged forward, playfully reaching for the letter. Gracie ducked slightly out of her sister’s reach and swiped her finger down the length of the flap, then up, popping it open.

Gracie pulled out the letter, unfolding it with a slight tremble that she couldn’t quite identify as fear or excitement. She could see right away that below all the formal salutations, only a short paragraph made up the body of the letter. The Gulf Coast Educational Foundation got straight to the point of thanking her for her time in applying for the grant, but another recipient would receive this year’s funding.

The letter fell from Gracie’s hand. It tumbled downward, blown by the breeze like a lifeline bobbing away on the tide.

She could see so many of her students across the churchyard—talking with friends, eating with family, playing with children. None realized the American dream had just become a little more difficult for them.

“What am I going to do, Gloria?” The worry on her sister’s face compounded Gracie’s hopelessness. “It’s all over. I’m through.”

“Through with what?” A deep voice broke through Gracie’s melancholy.

“
El Centro.
I didn’t get the grant, Jake.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m the reason you’re in this mess.”

“You’re not on the foundation’s selection committee. You didn’t do this,” Gracie said flatly.

“No, but if I hadn’t started everything in motion to get rid of nonprofits on Gulfview, you’d still have a building for a school and a home. You might not have your GED program, but it wouldn’t matter that you didn’t get the grant because you wouldn’t need the money to move to a new location. This is all my fault, Gracie.”

Less than twenty-four hours before, Jake had stood in her parents’ kitchen and laughed and joked with her whole family. Now, she couldn’t see even the smallest flicker of light in his eyes.

“Jake, you don’t need to blame yourself.”

“I do.” He left no room for debate. “Gracie, I can’t stay for the dinner. I’m sorry, but I need to go.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Maybe if they worked together, they could sort it all out. She wanted to hold on to the hope that not everything was lost.

“No. I just need to be alone. In fact, it’s probably better for both of us if I just stay out of your life so I don’t ruin anything else.”

He let go and gave her one last look with hollow eyes.

The first time he’d walked away from Gracie—when he notified her of the upcoming City Council vote—she’d been so sure she could change him. She remembered praying for the scales of judgment to drop from his eyes.

Instead, working with her caused Jake to bring judgment upon himself. Why had that prayer been so misconstrued?

She’d prayed for a way to save her school. Why did all the doors continue to close?

And what about her prayers for a future with Jake?

She’d always felt so certain that when she talked to God, a two-way dialogue occurred. Now, it seemed her prayers must sound to Him like a static-filled radio station.

Gracie didn’t feel comforted by the thought of prayer right now. She felt alone. Abandoned both by the God who’d put the dream of
El Centro
in her heart and abandoned by Jake who—if she was honest—was beginning to steal a piece of her heart.

Jake lost the battle for his company today, but Gracie knew she had to keep fighting for hers—even as she now realized she’d have to do it all on her own. She squared her shoulders and took a determined step across the lawn in the direction of the protesters and the crew from KPPT-TV.

She took a deep breath to clear her head and pushed toward the small crowd, where she could see Patti Cortez stepping out of the van, microphone in hand.

No Jake.

No grant.

No faith in her prayers.

She had to make a last stand with the only weapon she had left—the power of public opinion—or in a matter of days she’d have no home and no job, either.

Chapter Eight

T
he light in Nana’s upstairs bedroom winked out at the grounds below when Jake pulled his car back through the estate’s gate after a long, aimless drive down beachside roads. The soft glow called to him like a homing beacon. Jake parked his car and walked quietly inside the main house.

He needed to talk to Nana, but he felt so betrayed that he didn’t know how he could face her. Had she always known? He felt trepidation in every inch of his veins, but he couldn’t turn around now. He needed to know.

“Nana? Are you still awake?” Jake tapped gently at her bedroom door.

The century-old hinges swung silently as the door opened.

“Come in, my boy. I had a feeling I’d see you tonight.” She walked to the sitting area off the main bedroom and perched on her favorite antique settee.

Jake sank into a tufted wingback close by and tilted his head back to where it rested on the solid upholstery. “I don’t understand, Nana. Everything’s such a mess.”

“I’m not going to take Sam’s tirade lying down. I need to pray about it some more before I figure out the best way to handle things,” Nana said thoughtfully.

“Pray about it?” Jake tried not to roll his eyes. This wasn’t what he’d come upstairs for. He already knew this praying nonsense didn’t get anyone anywhere. He needed to look no further than sweet, God-fearing Gracie, who prayed with her whole heart about her grant money. All she received in reply was a letter telling her “Better luck next time.”

“What are you shaking your head for, Jake?” Nana leaned in close and stared him down. He couldn’t tell if she was trying to be playful or not. Something inside told him to go with the latter. “Do you have a problem with prayer?”

“Nana, God’s got better things to do than to figure out a way for you to get even with Sam Pennington.”

“I said I needed to know the best way to handle the situation.” She sat on the edge of the settee, looking like a queen. “Your father would have been interested in getting even. But then, he never prayed a day in his life. And although he was my son, he led a miserable life. A relationship with God would have given some meaning to his days beyond dollars and cents.”

“He had a company to run, Nana. I don’t agree with how he treated people, but you have to admit the bank accounts didn’t suffer while he ran the show.”

Without replying, she rose and walked to the ornately carved mahogany bookshelf in the corner of the room. “Mmm-hmm,” she said, running her finger across the top of a section of older books, then pulling one out.

Diana Peoples stood in front of her grandson and put a small volume in his hands. Printed more than a century before, it felt slick to the touch, as though many hands had held it and turned its pages. The black letters pressed into the red cloth cover read “The Peril of Port Provident,” above a dramatic engraving of a family.

Jake assumed the book was yet another history of the Great Storm of 1910, the defining moment in Port Provident’s history.

“Open it to chapter thirteen,” Nana said simply.

He complied, leafing through the pages and absently noting how much thicker the paper felt compared to the slick, mass-produced sheets in contemporary publications.

“Now, what does the chapter title say?” Her voice carried clearly, amplified by the high ceilings and shining wooden floors of the sitting room.

“‘John Peoples Prays to Put Port Provident Back on the Map,’” Jake read as dutifully as a student at a school desk.

Nana broke her dearly held etiquette rules as she sat on top of the coffee table behind her. Her grandson fidgeted on the cushion of the stately chair, uncomfortable under the weight of Diana’s heavy stare.

She reached over the top of the book and tapped the top of the page for emphasis.

“That man is just a legend to you. A story in a book that’s more than one hundred years old. A name you’ve seen on buildings and plaques around town. But I knew him. He was my father-in-law. And he started a business when he was twenty years old that brought this town back to life. He built homes for people who’d lost everything. And he didn’t do it because it looked good on a balance sheet. John Peoples started Peoples Property Group because he prayed about how to help his fellow citizens and God led him to the answer. His son knew that. His grandson rejected it. And it breaks my heart that his great-grandson doesn’t understand it.”

Jake’s eyes burned. He stared at the letters on the page, unable to even blink.

John Peoples Prays to Put Port Provident Back on the Map.

Why had he not known this about the founding of the company? Had the distance between Jake and his father caused an even greater distance between Jake and the Peoples family history?

“What does this mean for me, though, Nana?” Jake felt like a child all over again, needing reassurance from his elders.

He needed more than reassurance tonight. He needed answers to questions too bitter still to put into words.

“I don’t have the answers, my sweet grandson. But I know Someone who does.” She took hold of the book and folded it closed. “We’ll figure it out. I told you, I’m not going to let Sam Pennington spread his vicious gossip about our family.” Her voice rang with the pure steel possessed by generations of Texas women.

Jake knew if he hesitated, he’d lose his nerve. He had to lay it all out now. The hurt, the betrayal, the pain caused as today’s daggers severed him from the only family he’d ever known.

“But you’ve always known it’s not gossip, haven’t you, Nana? He’s telling the truth.” The black cloud surrounding him blew a cold wind as he confronted the grandmother he’d always loved so fiercely.

Nana’s breath floated away like a gentle butterfly. He could hear the exhale above the stark silence.

“Well, yes. I have, Jake.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” He needed to hear the answer. An answer that, in his heart, he already knew. But hearing her admit that she’d kept such a secret from him felt like a punch to the gut.

“I tried to protect you. Your mother couldn’t work through her problems—she just drank her way around them. I knew you couldn’t rely on her.” Nana paused and closed her eyes, always a sure sign to Jake that she was choosing her words carefully. “And your father clearly took out his anger at your mother and her infidelity on you. But you just needed someone to love you. I thought by keeping quiet, I was doing just that.”

“All my life I knew something didn’t add up. This is a small town. Everybody talked. Most behind my back, but some to my face. It hurt.” The bitter bile of memory rose in Jake’s throat. “I always kept my chin up by telling myself that they were liars. Because you wouldn’t have told me I was your special grandson if I wasn’t really yours.”

Nana opened her mouth to speak. Jake held up a hand and cut her off. He’d never treated his grandmother with such casual disrespect before. He’d never felt he had a reason to before, either.

“I told myself they were all liars—and that for whatever reason, my father was the biggest liar of them all.” Jake looked straight at Nana, but didn’t see her clearly with his vision clouded by years of hurt and anger. “It turns out
you
were the liar, Nana.”

Jake pivoted, his leather shoes spinning slickly on the antique silk rug below. He turned for the door, unwilling to let Nana speak. He didn’t want to hear her try to mount a defense.

He’d heard enough for one day.

In fact, he’d heard enough for a lifetime.

* * *

Jake walked back to his apartment in the carriage house without another word to his grandmother. One thought kept running through his mind.

Could the same faith that formed the bedrock of Gracie’s family actually be at the core of the man who was, at least, his namesake?

Could he find a way to truly know for himself?

He should have been thinking about his next move, what he would do from here. What work prospects did he have now? Where would he go in order to meet his obligations?

Instead, his mind couldn’t focus on the here and now. It kept spinning with thoughts about the posthurricane actions of the first John Edward Peoples, so many years ago.

Jake’s inattentiveness to everything around him caused him to catch his toe under the edge of the jewel- tone-colored area rug. He tripped and landed on the plush carpeting.

The fall interrupted Jake’s inner turmoil and he surveyed life from his new, more lowly perspective.

Jake grimaced as he realized, with a touch of irony, he had just been brought to his knees.

The wind kicked up outside, the howl reverberating across the windowpane. Jake didn’t feel alone inside the small living quarters. Instead, he felt prompted, like a youngster being supported on his first bike ride without training wheels.

“I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never really prayed before in my life. But I want to know how I’m supposed to make sense of today. I came back to lead my family’s company, and now it seems I’ve lost my family
and
my company. And along the way, I made Gracie lose her home and her business. I don’t want to be like that. I want to be like my great-grandfather. I want to help people build better lives. What should I do?”

Jake looked around, half expecting to see a sign that would let him know he’d been heard, but he couldn’t make out much of anything in the dark carriage house. The moon shone through the open curtains at the back of the small room. A few clouds began to gather at its edge.

The gathering storm clouds made him think of the recent events in his own life.

The moon reminded him of his walk on the beach with Gracie.

She inspired him. They handled life’s curveballs so differently. When faced with losing his home and law practice in Austin, Jake filed for bankruptcy and left town. But when a similar situation literally knocked on Gracie’s door, she turned to God, family and friends—and kept working to find another way to keep her dream alive. Even now, when she knew the grant money wouldn’t land in her bank account, she still believed that God would work all things out for good, as she’d so often said.

“Can You really make something out of this mess, God? Gracie seems so sure You have a higher plan for her. Do You have one for me, too?”

Again, no audible reply. Just a gentle reminder of another conversation with Gracie.

“I don’t want to hear some fancy words you learned in a class for your MBA,” she’d snapped at him in the condo parking lot. “When you hear ‘P&L’ you think of a profit and loss sheet. I think of people and love.”

He’d gotten it all wrong. The measure of true success came in numbers of lives touched, not numbers of dollars in a bank account. Just as the chapter in Nana’s book showed.

El Centro
wasn’t a drain on the economy of Gulfview Boulevard, as he’d recently tried to convince the City Council. Instead, it was the only business in the area that generated the kind of profits that mattered.

The man he’d always known as his great-grandfather brought Port Provident back from ruin by investing in the lives of others. This special city didn’t need another condo development. It needed
personal
development.

Jake got up off his knees. He owed a special person in his life a special apology, and then he had a phone call to make.

“Thank You,” he whispered, dashing out of the carriage house like a firefighter en route to a rescue.

* * *

“Bubble bath, take me away.” Gracie poured a capful of lavender-scented body wash under the faucet of running water. The familiar floral scent soothed her nerves.

The whole day seemed so unbelievable. Losing the grant. Losing her school. Losing her home.

Losing Jake.

She’d only known him a short time, but his decision to withdraw from her life tore her heart like an angry bear’s paw. His last words to her at the church shredded her heart to ribbons.

Gracie knew she’d be rebuilding her life soon. Somewhere, there would be a new home, and somehow, a new school. She only wished she didn’t have to add a new Jake to the growing list.

As though there could be another Jake.

In a short time, she’d come to appreciate him more than she’d ever expected. When he first knocked on her door, he was her enemy—an adversary from the other side of the tracks. But in spite of their differences, she’d found they had common ground.

The wind crackled through fronds of the palm trees outside her window, and the first droplets of the summer storm released from the clouds above. Gracie wished her whole day would blow away with the gusts and the rain.

Gracie stopped the flow from the bathtub tap. She looked at the water and was struck by how, in such a short time, Jake had completely filled up her life in the same way the bubbly liquid took over the claw-footed bathtub.

On this night, when they’d both been given a rude awakening from their hopes in life, did Jake’s thoughts race through his mind at the same warp speed hers seemed to travel? She didn’t know, and his last words to her made it very clear that she couldn’t reach out to ask.

The heavy sound of the brass knocker on the front door cut into Gracie’s musings. She knew it would probably be Gloria, bringing cookies or brownies, or some other pity-party-appropriate food purchased at the church fund-raiser. A smile crossed Gracie’s lips. Chocolate within arm’s reach would make the bubble bath even more of a haven from a cruel world.

She tied the knot tightly on her purple terry-cloth bathrobe and walked down the stairs. With every step, the downpour outside intensified. “Hold on. I’m coming.” Texas storms were known for changing from mild to malicious in just a minute’s time.

“Jake! What are you doing here?”

She couldn’t believe her eyes. The water made his hair seem two shades darker, and beads dripped from the tendrils framing his face. He still wore the dress clothes from his meeting today, and the cotton button-down wetly molded to his every angle.

Only hours ago, he’d said he was stepping out of her life. But here he stood, on her front porch. What brought him back?

“I’m calling it off, Gracie.” A crack of thunder popped from the storm cloud overhead.