A/N: So, chapter nine is unexpectedly a Grace and Luke-centric chapter. I warn you now that you will have questions. I have no answers. Grace and Luke continue to baffle me, not that you knew that. So if they're out of character, too darn bad. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, I've been lax. Thanks so much for your reviews. I do like them so.
Alexandri
Soft, shoulder-length hair framed a tastefully made up face. Long, silver earrings glinted in the lamplight. A silky, red, flutter-sleeve blouse topped a pair of black evening pants. Grace Polk was dressed for a party she wasn't sure she wanted to attend. Actually, she knew she didn't want to go; she just didn't know if she was going to go anyway. There were so many factors to consider. First, there were Mrs. Girardi's feelings. They were bound to be hurt if Grace didn't show up for the first time in nine years. Though she'd never admit it, Grace hated the idea of disappointing Mrs. Girardi. The woman just had that effect on her like anything was preferable to letting her down.
Then there was Joan. They had already had their confrontation.
"Since when don't you spend Christmas Eve with us?" Joan had asked after Grace announced her intention of not going.
"Since I promised my family that I'd spend the day with them. Geez, Girardi, you do remember that I have one of my own, don't you? I'm not a pod person or a hatchling." It was a total lie; she hadn't promised her family any such thing, but Grace hoped that saying so would get Joan to back off, though she doubted it. Joan was as stubborn as Grace herself, maybe more so. "There's also the small fact that I'm Jewish and don't actually celebrate Christmas," she threw in for good measure.
"Well, so what? That's never stopped you before. And I've spent plenty Hanukahs with your family. You know we trade on the religious holidays." Slipping on an earring, Joan had scowled, much to Grace's amusement. If nothing else, Joan was a worthy sparring partner. "Everyone's expecting you to come. Mom will be so disappointed if you're not there tonight."
"That was low, Girardi. I thought we had an agreement after our last argument: no fighting dirty?" Grace headed for her bedroom. "Bringing out parent guilt is fighting dirty."
"She's not even your parent."
"She's everybody's parent."
"It doesn't matter whose parent she is," Joan had yelled, exasperated. "This isn't about her anyway. It's about Luke being home, isn't it?'
And there it was—the main factor in her decision not to go. Luke was home and Grace didn't know if she could bear to see him again.
"Look, Girardi, I can't come tonight. Tell your mom I'm sorry."
"Whatever falling out you and Luke had was years ago in high school. I'm sure he's over it. Come on, Grace, it won't be the same without you." When Grace had just stared at her silently, Joan had glared back. "Fine. Don't come. But I'm not doing your dirty work for you. You tell Mom you're sorry." Then she'd flounced out of the room. Grace suspected that Joan would send Adam to "talk some sense into her" when he arrived. She had discovered one of Grace's secret weaknesses: she would do just about anything for Adam.
"But can I do this?" Grace whispered to the reflection in her dresser mirror. Could she face Luke after what happened the last time they'd seen each other five years ago?
She never would have wound up on his doorstep if it hadn't been for the letter. One minute she's flipping through her mail, the next she's haphazardly shoving clothes into a duffel bag and driving mindlessly. She drove the entire way on autopilot, trusting her body to take her wherever she was going while her mind struggled to deal with the news in the letter. The only thing that she registered the entire trip was that her life had changed forever, again.
Some eight hours later, she'd found herself standing in front of his apartment soaked by the icy, sleeting rain. Now that she was here, now that she realized where she had gone, Grace didn't know what to do next. Should she knock on his door? That was the most logical course of action, but what did she say when he asked why she was there? She didn't understand what had brought her here. Maybe she should just save herself the humiliation—get back in her car and go to a motel for the night. She could drive home in the morning. That's what she'd do—spend the night in a motel. Tomorrow she'd leave, go ahead with her Spring Break plans. No one would ever have to know about her stupid, impetuous road trip to the one person she shouldn't be seeing.
Decision made, Grace turned to leave. Luke blocked her path, standing ten feet away protected by his umbrella. Somehow she knew he'd been there a while, watching her. How did she get out of this? Before she could decide, he stepped around her and unlocked his door. Without a word, he opened it and stood back so she could enter ahead of him. She hesitated. He didn't rush her, just shook out his umbrella before letting it down. She looked from him to the dark apartment. His lips twitched but he didn't smile; he simply hit the light switch. She entered the apartment.
"Grace?" a voice called accompanied by a knock.
Effectively taken out of her memories, Grace turned slightly toward the door. "Yeah?"
"Can I come in?" Adam asked.
Grace sighed and glanced at her watch. Right on time. May as well get it over with. "Yeah."
She watched the mirror as he entered and came to stand beside her. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black slacks and stared at their reflections. "You know," she said after a long, quiet moment, "there was a time when neither of us would be caught dead dressed like this."
Adam smiled. "Unchallenged."
"What happened to us?"
"We grew up."
"I meant aside from that."
He shook his head. "Nothing."
"Hmm." They fell silent again. Grace noted his dark green sweater, one of the slim kind that emphasized the shoulders. "You can start whenever you're ready."
"Start what?"
"Didn't Joan send you in here to convince me to go to the party?"
"Yeah."
She glanced at him expectantly. "Well?"
"If there's one thing you've always been able to do, it's make your own choices."
"At least one of you recognizes that," she muttered.
Adam flashed her one of his little boy smiles. "Plus, I know you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that I understand things about you that Jane doesn't."
"Like what?"
He gave her a "come-on,-it's-me" look. "I remember when you were Grace Polanski. I know the secrets you still haven't told Jane."
"In all fairness, she hasn't told me about her relationship with God. I found out about it even before she told you and she still hasn't said a word in all this time."
"If it makes you feel better, she hasn't told anyone else either."
"I'm her best friend. She can trust me with her secrets," Grace pouted. She could do that with Adam. Like he said, he knew her, Polanski and Polk.
"Yes, best friends should trust each other with their secrets," he said pointedly. She glared at him. He smiled back. "But we're talking about you, not Jane."
"What about me?"
"Let's start with the fact that you're not going to your dad's tonight." When she didn't answer, Adam continued. "And we both know you are going to the party. You're just trying to talk yourself out of it."
He was right. She knew deep down that she would eventually end up at the Girardis; she just hadn't expected him to know it. "How did you know?"
"Helen's a lot like your mom used to be when we were little. You hated disappointing her, too." Grace gaped at him. He shrugged. "I wasn't always oblivious, Grace. And, even when I was, I still paid attention to you, although it didn't seem like it."
Her face softened and she looked away, forgetting that they were still in front of the mirror. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For not being there for you after your mom died."
His sigh ruffled her hair as he put his arm around her shoulders. "We were kids and Mom's death changed both of us. I withdrew and your transformation into Grace Polk became permanent. And you were there for me, in your way."
"How?"
"You treated me normally. I was just your friend, not the kid whose mom killed herself."
"Hmm." Grace closed her eyes and laid her head on Adam's shoulder. She let his calm seep into her. It felt good to talk to him like this, to know he was so in tune with who she was. It felt good to be able to relax and be Grace, not Grace Polk or Grace Polanski. Just Grace.
"Don't take too long," he said as he squeezed her shoulder and released her.
"Take too long doing what?"
"Getting to the house." He grinned at her. "Helen and Jane, they'll worry."
Grace laughed. They would.
Adam ambled to the door. With his hand on the knob, he turned back to her, his brow furrowed. "I know what you're looking for." At her puzzled expression, he said, "All of the dating, I know what you're looking for. Thing is, I think you're looking in the wrong place."
"Where should I be looking?"
"At the party." Grace raised her eyebrows in question. "I think you found it a long time ago and you were too scared and too stubborn to accept the gift you'd been given."
She crossed her arms over her chest, determined not to let him see that far into her. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He didn't back down like she'd hoped. "You and me, we don't talk. We don't explode. We hold everything in until it consumes us. That's why Jane and Luke get to us the way they do. They can't do that for long and they can't stand to let others do it either. It can be annoying but people like us need people like them. Let Luke be your Jane. You don't have to fall in love with him. Just be friends and let him heal you. See you at the party."
Then he was gone and Grace sank onto the side of her bed. She was a little dazed. She'd never realized how much Adam knew about her. Let Luke be your Jane. Did she have the courage to be that vulnerable with someone? Knowing that Adam could see into her so easily freaked her out and they'd known each other for as long as they could remember. Could she really be that open with another person?
Let Luke be your Jane. Grace sighed. It was going to be awhile before she made it to the party.
It felt odd being home again. Everything was different and familiar at the same time. Luke sat on the new swing on the front porch and let the quiet settle over him. He loved his family but sometimes they were too much for him. He wasn't antisocial but there were too many people inside. Too many thoughts and needs and desires filling the air, crowding him into a stuffy corner. Compared to the house, the biting December cold was a welcome change.
Of course, his present claustrophobia could simply be the result of unfamiliarity. Throughout most of his childhood, he'd been the overlooked one. Though he'd resented it, he was used to it, even comfortable. The last four days of attention lavished on him—and, to a lesser extent, his girlfriend Caroline—was an anomaly he hadn't been prepared for. Caroline bore it well. She was just as curious about his family as they were about her. But Luke, well, he was freezing on the front porch in search of alone time.
He would have to go in shortly. Dinner was over, the women were preparing the desserts and it would be time to exchange the traditional Christmas Eve gift. When he'd been a kid, he'd loved the tradition. As he'd gotten older, he found it depressing. His family meant well but they always got him something practical like a sweater or slides for his microscope. Sometimes he'd wished they'd used their imaginations and get him something unexpected, maybe even whimsical. Contrary to popular belief, he had a whimsical side. He just didn't indulge it often. He knew instinctively that if he did, he'd get lost in his wishes and fantasies. Physics had become his fantasy playground.
The sound of a car door slamming brought Luke out of his head and into the moment. Thinking it was a guest of one of the neighbors', he glanced toward the street. A young, petite blonde had parked in front of the house. She reached in the back of her beat-up Jeep and pulled out a large brown shopping bag. He turned his attention to the porch ceiling, letting his mind wander.
It wandered to the last time he'd seen Grace.
She stood in the middle of his living room dripping water on the carpet. She was unusually self-conscious. He'd led her to the bathroom, told her to shower. Then he'd laid out some clothes for her in the bedroom. Grace had showered and changed while he made tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. She'd smiled at the kiddie comfort food. Not her usual smirk, more of a nostalgic smile. She'd eaten slowly with her eyes closed like she was pretending she was a little girl. They'd passed the night quietly, aware of the unresolved awkwardness between them but determined to ignore it.
He'd awakened her the next day. "What?" she'd demanded without opening her eyes.
"I have to go to class soon."
"Okay." She'd rolled away only to suddenly jerk upright and gawk at him like she had no idea why he was there. Luke wondered if she'd been drunk the night before, but dismissed the thought because he hadn't smelled any alcohol.
"I got your bag out of the car. Go ahead and get dressed. I don't want to be late for class."
He'd left her alone. When she'd come out, Luke made her eat breakfast. Then he took her to class with him. That night and the entire weekend they'd spent exploring. Luke kept up a running commentary on the sights and happenings of Cambridge. Grace didn't say much of anything, just smiled gratefully and nodded absently as he talked.
Monday morning, he wondered if she'd leave. He didn't want her to. She was hurting and he wanted to help her, even if that meant distracting her or keeping her company while she grieved. Not that she said she was grieving. He just sensed that she was. But she was up and ready to go with him. She sat beside him in class, blatantly lost, then asked him questions over coffee as they went to the next one. Sometimes she'd pull out a notebook, tune out his professor, and write furiously. She'd fill pages within the hour, never stopping to review or edit. By the end of the day, he'd learned to attend class with his ears while keeping his eyes on her.
By Thursday, it had become their routine. That night he'd been studying after she'd gone to bed when he heard rustling. He looked up to find Grace standing at the edge of the room. She'd commandeered one of his flannel shirts; it hung to her knees. She hadn't even bothered to roll up the sleeves. Running a hand through her disheveled hair, she finally tucked it behind her ears and pointed at the sofa. "You mind?"
"No." Luke gathered his notes and moved them as she crossed the room. He mentally reprimanded himself for noticing her legs; now wasn't the time for that. She sat beside him and tucked them under her before settling back against the sofa.
"Who are you studying for?"
"Wolchek," he answered. She shuddered; she knew Wolchek's class was not easy in the least.
He started to close his textbook when she asked sharply, "What are you doing?"
"Why?"
"You should be studying," she stated, her voice fierce and stern.
"Since when do you care about school?"
"Just because I'm not enamored with America's institutionalized education mentality does not mean that you aren't."
"I resent that."
She ignored him. "You are supposed to become some major physics hero that generations of science geeks will revere for all posterity. You need an education, such as it is, to do that. So study."
"I'll study over Spring Break."
"You have midterms before that. You aren't going to do poorly because of me. Study."
Luke stared at her before deliberately closing the book and setting it atop his notes. Grace glowered at him. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine."
He nodded. "Do you want to watch TV?"
"No."
"Do you want to talk?"
"No."
"Grace?" He waited for her to meet his gaze. "Talk to me."
For a moment, she looked like she was going to refuse his request. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked finally.
"I'm always nice to you."
"That's true. I should have been nicer to you."
"You had your moments. You did," he insisted at her skeptical expression.
"Not enough."
"Grace."
"Why haven't you made me tell you why I'm here?"
He grinned at the ridiculous question. "I've never been able to make you do anything."
"Come on, Luke. You haven't even asked."
"I figured you'd tell me if you wanted me to know."
"Why are you being so good to me?" she whispered.
"Because you need me to." She bit the inside of her lip and averted her eyes. Luke shifted his body toward her and stretched his arm along the back of the sofa. With a slight smile, he gestured to his shoulder. "It's yours if you want it."
She laughed, a soft, watery chuckle, then nodded. Slowly, she fell against him. At first, her tears were silent. He only knew she was crying because of the increasing dampness of his shirt. Then a low whimper joined the tears. Soon, she'd buried her face in the crook of his neck, bawling great, wrenching sobs that wracked her body.
Luke wrapped his arms around her, gathered her close. His heart broke for her. Despite everything they'd been through and all the times she'd pushed him away, he couldn't help wanting to make the shadows in her eyes disappear. He kissed her temple, then moved so that they were in a more comfortable position. He fell asleep with her in his arms.
Grace was gone when he awoke the next morning, the first time she'd gotten up before him since she'd arrived. She'd left a note thanking him on top on his flannel shirt. She promised to call when she got back to Maryland. Later that night, he came home to find a message on his answering machine, saying she was home, safe and sound.
He never saw or heard from her again.
He'd expected to see her tonight but she hadn't come. Luke didn't know if this relieved him or not. On the one hand, he was certain that Grace not coming was a good thing. He could only imagine what the atmosphere between them would be. Caroline would surely notice whatever it was. She'd have questions. After all, Luke never talked about Grace. On the other hand, he wanted to see her, know how and who she was now. Suppressing a groan, he sat up. It was time to go back inside.
The petite blonde with the brown shopping bag stood on the porch, her unmoving hand poised to knock. She lowered it only to raise it again. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to knock, but stopped herself. She brushed the hair back off of her face and Luke's jaw dropped. "Grace?"
"What the . . ." She spun toward his voice, her hand pressed against her stomach. "Luke?"
"I thought you weren't coming," he said as he got up.
"I was, um, held up. What are you doing out here?"
Grace's question didn't register. He was too distracted by her appearance. She was lovely in a way he'd rarely seen before. She seemed softer, natural somehow as if she fully inhabited her skin instead of merely protecting it.
"Luke?"
"What?"
"What are you doing out here?"
"Just getting some air," he said as he folded his arms across his stomach. Of course, he'd make a fool of himself in front of her. "What's in the bag?"
"Presents." Grace peered up at him in question, then shrugged and tilted her head toward the door. "Let's go inside. It's freezing out here."
He leaned forward and opened the door, then stepped back so she could enter ahead of him. She hesitated, looked from him to the lively party in the living room. His lips twitched. She smiled and entered the house.