Grace Restored Page 6

  Chloe stood up with a small smile, her face taking on its normal color. “Let me know what you find out.”

  “Sure, girl.”

  Michelle watched her walk out and sighed. Lord, please let Holly’s mother have some answers. Amen.

  GUY WATCHED AS CARS drove by his cruiser, careful to maintain the speed limit. The one good thing about Freedom Lake was it wasn’t a big city. He would have many leisurely days as the town’s sheriff. The bad thing was it wasn’t a big city. So, days like today found him watching traffic to see if anyone would dare speed in the presence of his cruiser.

  He held Michelle’s ring up. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t get the fact out of his head that she had worn the ring for thirteen years. Thirteen years was a long time to hang onto a broken promise.

  His thoughts reversed to his last visit to her office. His apology had stunned her. That was clear by the open mouth and widened eyes. He could only imagine the words that would come out her mouth the next time they met, for she would no longer be in shock. If anything, she’d probably be angry and ready to let him know it.

  Thirteen years.

  Guy sighed, putting the ring back into his pocket. Did he still have his and the chain he’d worn it on? He vaguely recalled putting it in his storage box with all his high-school memorabilia. Only he couldn’t recall when he had done so, considering the numbers of moves he’d made since high school. He rubbed a hand over his face, his stubble scratching his palm.

  His cell buzzed in his cellphone holder showing the caller ID information of his mother. He closed his eyes in frustration. She didn’t want to help him raise the girls, but she had no problem calling him daily to micromanage. As if he didn’t know how to raise his own children.

  Do you?

  “Hello, Manman.” The Haitian creole for mother easily rolled off his tongue.

  “Guy, how are my granddaughters?” His mother spoke in the Creole that had been used in her childhood home, pronouncing his name as ‘ghee.’ The language had been passed on to him as remembrance to their culture. His mother stressed the importance of remembering where one came from. Guy had always thought he’d visit, but it just hadn’t happened.

  He didn’t know any of his relatives living there. He had always thought of himself as more American than Haitian since he had been born here. An issue his mother frequently brought up in conversations. She seemed to forget she hadn’t returned to Haiti either.

  “They’re good, Manman. Nana Baker watches them during the week.”

  “Hmmm. You need to find a madanm for my babies.”

  “Manman, I don’t want another wife.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “Speak to me in your native tongue.” The Creole rolled off her tongue swiftly and sharply.

  It was all he could do to silence the sigh desperately trying to escape. His mother believed the only way he and his daughters would be happy was to find a replacement wife. But what he had with Charlene couldn’t be replaced. And he was perfectly fine going the rest of his life alone.

  “Manman, I’m at work, I need to go.”

  “You call after work.”

  “Wi, Manman.”

  He slid his cell back into his holder right as a car blew past him. His radar gun beeped. “Finally.” The mundane had been turned around.

  Chapter Nine

  Michelle walked up the sidewalk leading to the cute, gray bungalow. Guy’s secretary, what was her name? Holly. Holly’s mother had agreed to talk to her about Chloe’s mother. She knocked on the door.

  An older woman, with pale red hair and a smattering of freckles across her nose, smiled. “Hi, you must be Michelle,” she held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  She shook her hand thankful she chose to wear a casual shirt and jeans since Mrs. Adams was dressed in similar fashion. She wanted to make the woman feel comfortable, not out of place, in her own home. “Nice to meet you, too. Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

  “Come on in, I just took some cookies out of the oven.”

  Mrs. Adams led the way through the living room and straight back into the kitchen. The layout was similar to the bungalow she shared with Jo. She stopped short at the sight of a younger version of Mrs. Adams sitting at a dining table with a little girl.

  “Holly, honey, this is Michelle. Michelle this is my daughter, Holly and my granddaughter, Samantha.”

  The little girl grinned. “I go by Sam. Did you know Sam is a nickname?”

  Michelle grinned back at her. “I did.”

  “Some people have nicknames, and some don’t. Do you have a nickname?”

  She sat down at the table and rested her chin on her hands. “Yes, my friends call me Chelle.”

  Sam tilted her head to the side. “I like Chelle. It sounds friendly. Are you friendly?”

  “That’s enough, Samantha.” Holly’s glance was apologetic.

  “Oh, mom, Chelle doesn’t mind. Do you?”

  She shook her head. The girl was too cute for words. She had the same pattern of freckles as her mother and grandmother but unlike the gray of Holly’s, her eyes were a rich blue. “Not at all, Sam.”

  The little girl beamed.

  “We’ll get out of your way so you two can talk.” Holly grabbed a plate of cookies and guided Sam out the kitchen.

  Michelle had expected to dislike Holly on sight even though she knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of Guy’s secretary. After all, she got to see him every day. Why do you care? She sighed. The woman seemed friendly, if not a little lost. Wonder what her story is?

  Mrs. Adams placed a plate of chocolate-chip cookies in the center of the table. “Would you like something to drink, Michelle?”

  “Do you have milk?”

  Mrs. Adams chuckled. “Sure do. A glass of milk coming up.”

  After she sat down with two glasses of milk, she looked at Michelle expectantly. “So, you want to know about Charlotte Smith?”

  “Yes. My friend is her daughter. She’s...she’s trying to find her father. Only she has no clue who he is. I hoped you would either know who Charlotte hung out with or any possible boyfriends she may have had.” Michelle paused, hating the awkwardness of it all. No wonder Chloe asked for help, she’d hate going through this.

  Mrs. Adams looked down at her plate, her fingers idly clicking against the tabletop. “Where’s Charlotte now?”

  “I have no idea. I’m trying to locate her as well.” Although she hadn’t told Chloe that part of her plan yet.

  Mrs. Adams nodded and looked at her. “Once upon a time, I used to be best friends with Charlotte.”

  Michelle jerked back, hitting the back of her chair. How had the poster woman for June Cleaver ever managed to be friends with a drug addict? Then again, she had no idea how long Chloe’s mother had been using.

  “We’d been friends since junior high.” She took a sip of milk. “That’s when my family moved from Kodiak to Freedom Lake. They didn’t like how violent the city was becoming and thought it would be better to raise us in a smaller town.”

  Michelle nodded to show she was paying attention. And she truly was, but the shock over the two unlikely women being best friends was just a little disconcerting.

  “Our friendship changed our junior year of high school.”

  “The year she got pregnant,” Michelle murmured. She sat forward, listening intently with the hope that Mrs. Adams would pass along anything helpful.

  “Right. Before she got pregnant, there was this boy.” A sigh fell from her lips. “He was handsome. The senior jock every girl wanted to know.” She paused, for effect. “Black or white.”

  Michelle raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.

  “Classmates used to call Charlotte and I ebony and ivory, but they meant no harm. Racism was almost eradicated. And I mean almost.” The woman shifted in her seat. “You see, John was white and when people realized he was interested in Charlotte, trouble soon followed.”

  Oh no. Michelle was no s
tranger to racism being a Black female, but the thought of racism in Freedom Lake blew her away. For as long as she could remember, the town seemed to be unified, despite the fact it originated as a Black only resort. Of course, it had its ups and downs, but those were in the minor.

  “What happened?” she asked softly.

  “They were harassed. People broke into their lockers and left things...well, let’s just say items no one should have to see, no matter the age. They also received hate mail. After a month of it, they stopped talking at school and life resumed to normal.”

  Why did she get the feeling there was more to the story?

  “Did they stop dating?” Her heart ached at facing such odds. She didn’t know how interracial couples faced such racism. How was Chloe going to handle this?

  “No. I thought they had, but I caught them hanging out by the lake one afternoon. Charlotte later confided to me that they met there often. If anyone else came by, they would just ignore each other. If the place was empty, they would sit on one of the benches.”

  Michelle gave a small smile. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same bench where she and Guy used to meet. Who knew how many people thought that spot was significant only to them.

  “Then what happened? Chloe was raised by her grandmother. There was no happily ever after in her life.”

  Mrs. Adams sighed and rubbed her hand back and forth along her forehead. “John’s parents found out.”

  “And...” she prodded gently.

  “They were upset. Forbade him to see her. A week later, she found out she was pregnant.” Mrs. Adams licked her lips and took a sip of the milk. “She asked me to deliver a message to him. She needed to see John and tell him in person. He agreed to meet at their spot.”

  Mrs. Adams’s hands shook as she took another sip of milk. It was obvious to Michelle how affected she was. Could this story get any worse?

  “I drove to the Lake with Charlotte hiding in my back seat. John was at the bench waiting. I remember how Charlotte had jumped out. She threw her arms around him, but he didn’t hug her back. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I got out the car. I...I wanted to give her moral support. Instead, I intruded on a moment no one should be privy to.”

  “What happened?” Michelle croaked. She felt like she was there, in the midst of the story, not sitting at a table drinking milk and eating cookies.

  “He told her it wasn’t his. And that she had no business talking to him. That she wasn’t fit to be in his presence.” She covered her mouth as if reliving the scene all over again. “I knew...I knew it was his mother who filled his head with that nonsense, but the damage had been done. Charlotte was never the same after that. It was like he snuffed out the light in her. She didn’t laugh or smile anymore. She became a broken woman.”

  “What is his last name? Does he still live in Freedom Lake?”

  Mrs. Adams blinked as if coming out of a trance. “Davenport. John Davenport.”

  Michele arched an eyebrow. “Of the Davenports on Prosperity Ridge?”

  Mrs. Adams nodded.

  Everyone knew the Davenports. They had moved to Freedom Lake in the seventies because of the location. It wasn’t until after settling into their home that the number of African Americans living in Freedom Lake began to unsettle them. They had tried buying up property to run folks out of town, but after meeting resistance from the rest of the community, they gave up. Instead, they chose to buy up local businesses whenever one folded. They owned a majority of the downtown businesses, but didn’t run a single one.

  Michelle didn’t have anything against them. When she had first moved to Freedom Lake, Mr. and Mrs. Davenport were known as the town’s recluses. They had become estranged from the community. They rarely came out of their house and no one ever visited. No one.

  “So where is he now?”

  “I haven’t seen John Davenport since he graduated from high school. No one has.”

  She sat there, contemplating all that Mrs. Adams had told her. If what she said was true, then Chloe had family right here in Freedom Lake.

  GUY HEADED FOR THE door. Who could be coming by the house so late? Thankfully, the girls had been asleep for a half hour. He had planned on going to bed early in case another attack of upset stomach visited the girls. Instead, he was going to have to entertain a visitor.

  Guy stifled a groan when he saw Evan at the door.

  “Hey, G, how are you?”

  “Hanging in there, Ev.” He moved back. “Want to come in?”

  “Thanks.”

  Evan slowly passed him sans crutches. Apparently, he got a new prosthetic.

  “We can hang in the kitchen. You hungry? Thirsty?”

  “Nah, you don’t have to feed me, man.”

  Guy chuckled. “The Haitian in me won’t let me not offer food.”

  “I’ll take some water.”

  He grabbed a bottle of water then tossed it to Evan. “How’s the new leg?”

  Evan took a large gulp then wiped his mouth against his sleeve. “I don’t think it’s going to work.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. How did his friend do it? “Are you having another allergic reaction?”

  Guy tried to keep his face neutral, but his stomach twisted in concern. The thought of going to the hospital again, where sickness and death reigned. It brought nothing but bad memories.

  “It’s getting red. I’m pretty sure it’s another allergy. I have an appointment tomorrow to make sure. Doc’s going to run some test.”

  “Then what?”

  “If it’s another allergic reaction, then I’m hanging it up. I’ll just get by with the forearm crutches.”

  “You cool with that?” He watched his friend’s face, looking for any signs that Evan would crack under the heavy weight of disappointment.

  “I’m going to have to be, G. I’m not going to lie. It sucks, but...” a slow grin lit his face, erasing the strain. “Jo doesn’t care.”

  Guy adverted his gaze. He couldn’t look Evan in the face and see the overwhelming happiness there. It had been too long since he experienced that emotion, it was almost painful to watch. He inhaled. “Then don’t let it stop you from being with her.”

  “I won’t. I’m thinking of popping the question.”

  His mouth dropped. “You’re that sure?”

  “That she’s the one?” he countered. At Guy’s nod, Evan continued. “Definitely. She accepts me for who I am, who I’m not, and still loves me. You know that feeling where you wake up and know life can’t get any better?”

  Guy nodded, hating the ache that took up residence in his chest. He had that with Charlene, but it had been snatched from him.

  “That’s what I want to experience every day for the rest of my life.”

  “Marriage is hard, Ev. It’s not all rainbows and sunshine.”

  “No doubt. But it’s easier to navigate when you have someone willing to hold the umbrella against the storm.”

  He reached out and gave his friend a slap on the back. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks, G. I’m on the hunt for the perfect ring right now. I don’t want to get something so dainty it’ll get ruined while she works. Plus, she’ll probably take it off when she works. So, yeah, still thinking.”

  Guy laughed. “The life of a construction worker. If I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”

  He fingered the love knot ring in his pocket. He didn’t even know why he still hung on to it. He’d transferred it from pocket to pocket, no matter what he was wearing.

  “Anyway,” Evan said with a wave of his hand. “I wanted to come and invite you to Bible study tomorrow.” He held up a hand. “Wait a minute before you say anything. I tried not to hound you. I wanted to give you ample time to work through what we discussed last week. Now I’m here to see how you feel about it all.”

  Guy ran a hand down his face. Even though he knew this conversation was coming, Guy wasn’t ready for it. He stared at the bottle of water in his hand. “T
he topic surprised me.”

  “Me as well. That was Chloe’s first time leading. She did an amazing job.”

  “Wi, she did.” He bit his lip as a little Creole slipped out. His nerves had him searching for the childhood familiarity. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to go on a regular basis.”

  “I can understand that. How about we have a guy’s night? You can skip Bible study tomorrow, but you have to hang with us Saturday.”

  Guy stared at him. Evan was doing what any good friend would. Trying to keep him from falling into the abyss, only his friend had no idea Guy already landed there.

  Don’t you want to get out? Live again?

  “Come on, G.”

  “If, I can find a babysitter...” He sighed.

  Evan grinned. “I’ll ask Jo to watch them if it will ensure you come.”

  He laughed, but the sound rang hollow. Was he ready to return to life?

  Chapter Ten

  Michelle opened the door, not surprised to see Evan on the other side. “Hey, Jo’s not here.”

  He frowned and glanced at his watch. “Where is she?”

  “She’s got a renovation consult with some new owners. I don’t recall their name.”

  “All right, I’ll just call her.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” Michelle didn’t know what made her ask, but now she had the strange urge to recall the offer.

  “I’m hoping she can watch Guy’s girls Saturday. We’re going to have a guy’s night out.”

  “If Jo gets this job, she’s probably going to be working Saturday.”

  Evan turned away but not before she saw disappointment ushered across his face. Michelle stared at her fingers, noting the ring tan line. Should she offer to watch them? No. She didn’t even like kids. At least, that’s what she always told herself knowing she was too afraid to dig deeper than any surface emotions.

  It’s just babysitting. You don’t have to keep them forever.

  Before she could change her mind, she inhaled and let the air out in a rush. “I’ll watch them if she can’t.”