Finding Grace: A Novel Read Online Free

place
around the table. Mr. Wilson sat himself down in a chair and,
without pause, snatched up the glass of tea before him. Tilting his
head back, he downed the contents of his glass in several loud and
slurping swallows. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand,
and letting out a loud breath of air, he looked up at Grace. With a
smile, showing off what few teeth he had left, he pushed the glass
at her in a silent demand for more. Silently she obliged…but the
moment he turned away, her lip curled in disgust.
    Nasty old coot, she thought. Lord forgive
me for saying it, but I hope he chokes.
    He said to everyone, “I reckon I just heard
something mighty interesting.”
    Here he goes
again , Grace thought, Tellin’ tales and rattling on and on. She was still shaken by what she’d heard of Charlie’s mother,
and now this old fool was going to dominate the whole conversation
at the table. It made her want to scream and curse.
    They paused to say the blessing. And then it
began. He didn’t even take a moment for the Amen to sink in before
he started talking.
    “ It seems old Walter Hillard
kicked the bucket last night.”
    She gasped aloud at the news. But her little
noise passed without notice…the conversation carrying on as if she
were not present. Seeking comfort, she looked to her mother. But
Rachel seemed more concerned with seeing that plates were full,
although she did manage a few words.
    "God rest his poor soul.”
    While she gave that small comment, Mr.
Wilson continued with his own talk.
    "Charlie is still up there at the house,
from what I hear. His aunt and uncle came and had the body down to
the undertaker. He'll be buried tomorrow morning, over at the
Baptist Church."
    As he spoke, he went on heaping food on his
plate. Grace watched him in disgust as he stuffed food in his
mouth, looking very much like a fat-cheeked squirrel. The way he
was acting, he could have been talking about the weather instead of
the death of a neighbor. She wanted to walk over and slap him
across his ignorant head. With a last hope of respect for the dead,
she looked to her father…who, with an unmoved expression, held out
his glass to be refilled.
    "I heard tell that old Robert Brown is a
real fire and brimstone preacher. He shakes the rafters when he’s
up at the pulpit. I wonder if he’ll give the eulogy."
    Mr. Wilson pursed his lips. “I hope not. All
them fire and brimstone types get up there and spew the gospel for
two or three hours. Land sakes…the man in the casket is dead. Throw
dirt on him and get it over with.”
    Grace’s mouth opened slightly. Disgust was
written in every line of her face. And the revulsion only deepened
as her father, giving a careless shrug, gave a last comment on the
subject.
    “ We’ll be there to pay
respects.” He took a deep drink of his tea. And as he put it down,
his face broke into a smile.
    "You should have been down in the holler
with us, Jim. I caught me a trout like you wouldn't believe."
    They started rattling on about
fish...talking loud, laughing and telling tales. And that was the
end of their mourning over the Hillards.
    She was suddenly ashamed of every adult at
that table, especially her mother. Women were supposed to be
comforting and healing, but Rachel seemed indifferent. Grace had
the urge to jump up and curse every one of their wretched souls.
She wanted to run out the door and ride all the way over to the
Hillard place to tell Charlie how much she cared…how she wouldn't
forget him as everyone else had.
    But now was not the time. If she went
running off like a mad fool, embarrassing her folks in front of
company, there would surely be hell to pay. Not that she cared a
bit for their opinions at that moment. It was the consequences that
she dreaded - having to come home and be berated, maybe even
switched, and then having to hear about it every day until the end
of time. No, she would have to slip away quietly, after everyone
was stuffed full with their supper and