CHAPTER THREE

“Come on over here and have a seat, Grace.”

The blue carpet scrolled beneath them as they moved in unison toward what Grace assumed was the sanctuary. Wiping her eyes, she sniffled and sputtered, “I- I can’t…”

“Shhh,” he ordered, his hands curling over her shoulders and pressing her into the back pew. “Just stay here,” he caressed her arm. “I’ll find out who to call, and I’ll send Mrs. Lucas in to help you, OK?”

“My… my vet,” she gasped as she searched her pockets to no avail. Her vet’s number had been entered into her cell phone, which she’d stupidly left at home. “My cell… my cell…”

“OK, just calm down,” he knelt next to her, squeezing her hand in a reassuring way that reminded her of her father’s caring touch. Something about Davies… so serene and confident in the way he was handling the situation.

When he pulled away, she gripped his arm and opened her eyes to find him clothed in blue jeans and a t shirt. Earlier, she’d imagined him in the priestly garments but had strangely clung to him as though he was her only source of strength.

God was her strength, not a man, and she didn’t even need her “Daddy”. But she’d always been such a baby…

Grow up, Grace.

“I should go home, get my… my phone and call the vet.”

“Grace, I honestly think you should relax and allow us to prepare the dog for burial.”

“No… I…” She’d already decided that if anything ever happened to Ginger, she would have the dog cremated, and keep the ashes. Maybe that wasn’t entirely healthy, but burying the dog would be… too much.

She pushed up, gripping the pew in front of her when the room turned on its side, and leaned over to allow a tear to plop onto the blue, padded seat below her.

Davies helped to steady her with his hand on her shoulder again. “Listen, Grace, I can tell you don’t trust me, but you’ve just received a shock and need all the help you can get.”

“Honey, just rest now.” Her mother sat on the edge of the bed and handed over a mug of tea. “I know you loved Father Hanson, and this is a big shock to you… It’s a shock to all of us, but there’s nothing we can do.”

Grace sniffled as her tear rippled her tea like a rock tossed into a lake. “It’s so weird, Mom… I want him to hold me like he… like he used to.” She wanted Mark to assure her that the other girls were lying. He hadn’t touched anyone inappropriately. Mark could not, would not do a thing like that!

“I’ll be back, now you take it easy,” Davies told her, lingering for a moment before strolling away.

She straightened as she took in her surroundings- the crucifix hanging from the wall above the platform, the podium sitting above and behind the communion table. She hadn’t been inside of a Catholic Church in years… hadn’t allowed a priest to hold her since she was twelve. Father Hanson had never touched her inappropriately, but as she grew older, she’d realized that he might have gotten a certain pleasure out of the close contact.

Despite that nauseating possibility, she’d melted into Davies’ arms like a child; but she guessed that was somewhat understandable under these conditions.

“Gracie, Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Grace shuddered at the sudden interruption of her thoughts. Ruth Lucas’ strong perfume invaded her senses just an instant before the matronly, older lady wrapped her arms around her shoulders. For some reason her tears had ceased, and all she could do was stare into the dead silence surrounding them, her heart in her stomach and her mind teetering on the verge of oblivion. She lowered her eyes, blinking and sinking onto the pew again. Ruth followed suit, rubbing Grace’s hand and trying to comfort her with words that blurred together in a string of nothingness.

And then the silver-haired lady was gone, Father Davies having taken her place and tugging Grace toward the foyer. She followed as the image of Ginger, flattened and bloody on the road sprang back to her mind. She stalled near the top of the stairs, vaguely understanding that Davies wanted to get her a drink.

Hugging herself, she wondered how she’d make it alone in that little house- all alone, no more Ginger, no more obnoxious howls or nudges from a wet nose. No longer would she have a furry critter to pet while she rested on the couch watching TV. No longer could she vent all of her frustrations on Ginger’s willing ears. The dog hadn’t understood the words, but she’d seemed to sense Grace’s sadness and would lay her head on her owner’s knees while she sulked.

You could get a new dog.

A new dog? He or she would be nothing like Ginger. There was only one Ginger in the whole world… and now she’d be reduced to ashes.

“Cremation,” she managed as a warm, Styrofoam cup found her hands.

“Cremation?” The man repeated.

“I… want to keep Ginger. In an urn.” She sniffled, looking into a stairwell and realizing she’d frozen there while Davies went to get her the coffee.

“I understand.” He replied. His t shirt now appeared clean and dry, except for a thin ring at the collar.

“When I was little… I…” She swiveled the red stir stick in the muddy liquid.

“You what?” he nudged with his arms folded in front of him.

“I always wondered if dogs go to heaven,” she smirked.

“Apparently you still do,” he smiled. “Who knows, Grace? Maybe they do.”

Lifting her eyes to his for perhaps the first time since the accident, she found the curl of his brows a bit unnerving- like her well being was more of a concern for him than it should have been. A small, stiff smile replaced the frown as he cupped his hand under her elbow and nodded down the stairs. “I’d like to show you something, if you don’t mind.”

Maybe she was stupid to humor him, but she did, swallowing hard when he released her and she took her first few steps down. She paused, but picked back up when he kept going. Whatever was driving her to comply with him, she’d figure out later, but right now she suspected that he would offer comfort regarding Ginger’s soul- if she had one, that is.

Sure enough, when they reached his office, a large room filled with shelves that reached to the ceiling and housed all kinds of books… the titles of which were currently obscured by the tears welling in her eyes… he lead her to his desk, where he lifted what she thought was a Bible. Putting her cup down and wiping away the moisture, she confirmed the volume he held was indeed the Bible, and waited while he flipped through pages, stopping at Isaiah and pointing at chapter eleven, verse 6:

The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling a together; and a little child will lead them.

“If they don’t go to Heaven, then does this verse mean that God will create more animals?” He asked, and when she failed to reply, he went on, “Some people say this verse refers to the millennial reign and not to Heaven, which could be the case… and there are also many debates over the translation of the word “ruach”, or spirit…” Taking a breath, he placed the Bible back down. “I’m sorry, I’m not going to get caught up in a sermon. I just wanted to offer you a little bit of hope.”

“Thank you… I’ve seen the verse before… but haven’t heard many arguments about the subject.”

“Yes, well, few of us actually do dig into things like that.”

She nodded. “Most people don’t think it’s an important enough topic to dig into.”

“True,” he conceded, and then motioned toward the desk. “Anyway, if you drink your coffee you might feel a little better.”

“I don’t think drinking coffee can soften the blow of what just happened, Mr. Davies.”

“Of course not, that’s not what I mean.” He raised a bushy brow. “I need to get cleaned up, Miss McBride, but please have a seat and stay here as long as you need.”

She was about to say that she wanted to go home… but go home to what? She could call Penny, but she didn’t feel like having everyone crowd around her, offering condolences and staring at her like she’d lost her father figure all over again. Ginger was just a dog, while Mark had been her biggest hero outside of her family… when she’d learned what he’d done, he may as well have dropped dead of a heart attack right in front of her. Because the man who used to listen while she poured out her deepest, darkest secrets, the man who used to comfort her with his words and his warm arms had turned out to be a child molester….a rapist. Maybe it was only a matter of time before he’d done the same to her.

“I’ll sit her for a while,” she said finally. “I don’t think I can… face anyone right now.”

“Please take your time, there’s no hurry.”

Once he’d finally left the room, she plopped onto a swivel chair and leaned over her knees. Why had this happened?

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding…In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.

OOOO

Grace awakened with a blanket draped over her body, which had slumped in one chair, her feet propped on a second one. On top of the desk beside her sat a tray with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn and biscuits, and what resembled iced tea in a clear glass. Sitting forward, she combed through her curls, her fingers snagging on some rats, and wiped her face, only to find a thick smudge of black across the side of her hand. Eyeliner, mascara, all of the stuff that loves to run down a woman’s cheeks when she cries.

Tossing the blanket off, she started to stand but her leaden legs wouldn’t budge. She always felt like this if she dared to nap in the middle of the day, especially if she’d eaten beforehand.

Her stomach lurched as she glanced at the food again.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Davies, this time fully clothed in his robe. She blinked to make sure she wasn’t imagining the ‘holy’ garments this time, and laid her head back on the chair with a sigh. “I feel awful,” she moaned, and immediately scolded herself for releasing that tidbit, like she needed this man to comfort her- again.

“Understandably so,” he conceded. “Maybe it would help to eat some of Mrs. Lucas’ home cooking.”

Mrs. Lucas, co-owner of the farm market and Davies’ secretary, was well known for her excellent cooking… but this time, “I’ll take a rain check.”

She could hear his shoes squeak slightly as he crossed the floor, felt the draft as he passed her, and then heard the chair on the opposite side of the desk squealing loudly under the muscular man’s weight. “Would you like another To-Go box, Miss McBride?” He teased. “I can see if we have something in the kitchen.”

Was this his way of getting her to leave? Maybe he was tired of his office being taken up by a heart-broken maiden, no matter how pretty he deemed her. If he was after her for her body, then he wouldn’t mind her staying here… but then again, he might only be trying to avoid suspicion.

“What time is it?” She blinked at the clock on the wall.

“Six o’clock.”

“Six!” She hopped to her feet, scouting the area for anything she might have dropped, fingering her keys in her pocket…. and then plopped back to the seat in whirl. “Oh, no…” She buried her head between her knees.

“Hey, take it easy!” His chair protested a second time, his shoes clapping more loudly along the floor as he hurried over and took her wrist, which she promptly ripped away with a gasp.

Maybe her dog had died, but she’d been an imbecile to allow this man to help her as much as he had. She should have called Penny but for whatever reason had failed to do so. Remember, you didn’t want everyone staring at you?

But that’s what Davies had been doing… and Ruth, and probably Larry while she was asleep. Penny’s family staring at her should have been a welcome retreat, but instead she’d allowed herself to soak up the priest’s attention.

What is wrong with you, Grace McBride? Greg is right. You should see a psychiatrist!

Penny’s husband Greg had often challenged her to date one of the few interested men who frequented the bakery; but she’d always replied that she was afraid to trust another man- yet she always hoped Joe would offer. Greg had countered that she was holding out for Joe because she knew he was too shy to ask… thus proving that Grace had trust issues and needed to see a shrink.

Yet, she’d allowed her vulnerable side to take over while in the presence of Jacob Davies.

“I’m going home,” she breathed, only to have Jacob push her firmly into the chair.

“Take it slow, Grace, you’re extremely pale, and…” He took her wrist, holding it more tightly when she attempted to pull away, and pressed his fingers into the area below her thumb. “Your pulse is racing.”

“Yeah, because you won’t let me go!” She nearly shouted, this time yanking her hand away and earning an intense frown from the over-confident man.

“Grace,” he began. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“For all I know you already did!” She managed to find her feet again, and Davies hopped up to block her exit, the sleeves of his robe dropping in front of him as he folded his large arms.

Blue eyes blazing and jaws taut, he growled, “Listen, Lady, I was barely in here the entire time you were asleep, and you can ask Mrs. Lucas yourself if you don’t believe me!”

“Did you just call me ‘lady’?”

“Go and ask her!” He pointed at his door. “I am not going to harm you, and I am offended that you would suggest something like that!”

“Don’t yell at me!”

“Don’t yell at you?” He released a breath of exasperation. “You just insinuated that I may have done something wrong while you were asleep, and you expect me to just take it?”

“You are a priest! Aren’t you supposed to be calm and consoling, like you were earlier?”

“I may be a priest, but I am not God!” He shot back. “Now I’m more than willing to help you, Miss McBride, but I don’t need the accusations!”

“If you’re so innocent, then why are you so defensive?” She challenged.

His brows jumped up in surprise. After a few moments of returning her scowl, he ran his hand through his dark hair and heaved a sigh. “I’m tired of the gossip,” he finally confessed. “You must have heard it, otherwise you wouldn’t have said what you did.”

Pursing her lips, she felt the acid creeping up her esophagus. “I’ve heard it,” she admitted… But that’s not the only reason why I said what I said.

“Gossip is only that,” he dropped his hand, boring his eyes into hers, and she squared her shoulders. “Gossip. Gossip, Miss McBride, and not a word of it is true, I can promise you that.”

Cold sweat burst upon her forehead, and her stomach seemed to be growing more acidic by the moment; yet he continued, “Just because a man is young and presumably good looking, it doesn’t mean he can’t serve God in the office of the priesthood. It’s amazing how much the people of this world preach about the inside being more important than the outside, but they continue to judge based on appearance. No one in this community has been given any reason to doubt my-”

Grace sank into the chair in a half swoon, her stomach now a complete bowl of boiling, liquid metal. “I think I’m going to throw up,” she moaned.

“Just a minute!”

He scurried away and returned with a waste basket, which he promptly sat in front of her. Within seconds, Grace was spewing everything she’d dared to eat or drink earlier in the day, but the heaving didn’t stop there. Up came a stream of throat-burning stomach acid, and then a few moments later, she inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, waiting, waiting for her rigid stomach to cease its relentless spasms. Finally, after parking her back against his desk and wiping away the tears that had fallen without permit, the tension in her abdomen began to subside, and she found herself basking in cool perspiration.

Davies knelt beside her for the dozenth time that day, this time with a paper cup full of cool water. “Sip it slowly,” he urged when she brought it to her lips. He didn’t need to say it twice, because she knew her stomach wasn’t ready for a full on slot of fresh liquid.

After sipping it and placing the drink beside her on the floor, Davies reached for her hand. “I’m sorry, Miss McBride. I still have a bit of a problem with my temper and shouldn’t have exploded the way I did.”

“It’s not you…” Was it? She caressed her settling stomach.

“I think you should see a doctor.”

With her eyes closed, she could picture how he must have look- his intense eyes plastered on her, his Adam’s Apple bobbing, the tendons in his thick neck protruding with the tension. And he smelled nice… as a matter of fact, the scent of Old Spice was quite relaxing, as it reminded her again of her own father.

I should call my parents.

Davies released her hand, and she caught herself reaching for him again. Ginger, I think I’m losing my mind.

Now on his feet, Davies extended his hand and relaxed his frown. “Come on, Grace, we need to get you to a doctor.”

Grace reached up, hesitating, but then resigning herself as he swooped her hand into his and helped her to her feet. She stumbled against him, shuddering when he touched the small of her back and quickly released her. His horrified expression melted as he gazed at her from a mere few inches away, and then he rounded the desk and reached for the phone.

"Who should we call?" He asked darkly.

God, I should have called Penny hours ago! Just get me out of here!

ooo

Well, I hope you liked this chapter. I had a hard time with it, for some reason.