DISCLAIMER: I don't own anyone from the cast of ER, I'm just borrowing them for a little while.
Okay, guys! This is the last chapter in the Saving Grace series (sniff). I'm sure you're all getting sick of it by now, though, so if you are, you won't have to worry about it anymore. Though I must say, I have enjoyed you all reading my fic, and thanks for your reviews.
For those of you who can't get enough of Carter and Grace, there's good news. I am officially going to start a new series, which will explore Grace's relationship with Carter and interactions with the world around them. It will have more stuff with Elizabeth, particularly involvement with Ella, and of course the rest of the ER staff.
Thanks for sticking with me, guys and girls! Here it is, the final chapter of the Saving Grace series!
Saving Grace--Chapter 19
A pair of very nervous brown eyes stared back at him out of the mirror, pupils slightly narrowed in the bright, fluorescent light of the bathroom. The view of the rest of his face was slightly obscured by the condensation clinging to the glass from the hot water of his shower.
These hotels really needed to get fans in their bathrooms, he thought as he swiped at some of the water with an extra towel, leaving a streaky circle in the center. He could see his own face more clearly now. As he looked at his own eyes, he could almost see the butterflies in his stomach through them.
Butterflies, he laughed quietly. More like high-strung kangaroos. That was an interesting visual, he thought as he brushed his teeth in front of the mirror.
He was nervous as hell. And that was an understatement.
It was finally the day he had been waiting for, and here he was, a nervous wreck who was fumbling with the buttons on his white Oxford. He pulled on his trousers and belt, tucking the shirt in neatly. Carter withdrew a deep burgundy silk tie from his garment bag and slung it around his neck, tying a loose knot and hiding what he could under the flaps of his shirt collar.
As he tightened the knot, he felt as if he was tightening a noose around his own neck.
"Get it together, Carter," he muttered angrily at his reflection. "You've handled worse than this."
The nurses, of course, had let the news out quickly after he told them about his phone conversation with Ralph Conway, the family attorney. The following day, he had talked to Kerry about taking time off to go and get his daughter settled in. He told her that he would be gone for three days: the first to drive down to the Buckeye state, the second to drive back, and the third to get Grace settled in to her new home.
Her new home. He smiled at the thought. She was his daughter. They'd be together forever.
Kerry had been generous. Rather than Carter having to trade shifts, she granted him four free days to use as personal days.
"John, you've got some personal days saved up," she had said, smiling. "Go ahead, stay for a week if you want to. Best of luck." He had thanked her profusely, promising that he would be back into work as soon as he could, to which Kerry insisted that he take his time.
The staff of the ER, and a few select people from other departments, was thrilled to hear that Grace was going to be coming to Chicago for good. Haleh and Connie enthusiastically volunteered their own babysitting services. Susan had thought of something that Carter himself hadn't, which was that he would probably be visiting the house that Barbara Knight had once lived in with Grace, and would need to bring some of her things back with him. As she keenly reminded him, his Jeep was ill suited to this task, and she eagerly volunteered Chuck's Ford pick-up truck for the occasion.
"He won't mind, trust me," she said reassuringly as she signed off on a patient chart. "Just try to bring it back in one piece.
Carter had made a trip to the grocery store to make sure that he had food for when Grace arrived. He also cleaned up the spare bedroom of his apartment, vacuuming up the dust bunnies from the floor and clearing out the dresser and closet. He figured that he would take Grace shopping after she got there to buy a bedspread and curtains and such. Carter cleaned out the rest of his apartment, making preparations for the arrival of his daughter.
So he had left the day before, after a half-shift from 8 to 2. He packed his overnight bag, pulled up driving directions and a map, filled the gas tank and started off on the journey into Ohio. It had been a long, 6-hour journey, on long, monotonous interstate highways, listening to his own music, courtesy of the compact disk.
Carter had arrived in town at around 9 pm that night, and checked into a Holiday Inn Express off of the major intrastate highway just outside of the city of Akron, where the hearing was to be held the following morning.
Carter rechecked his reflection in the mirror, deciding at the last minute not to wear his suspenders [A/N lol I hate those suspenders, srry but I could not let them make an appearance in this story]. He gathered his toiletries and left the bathroom, stepping into the burgundy-adorned room where he had slept the night before. He plucked up the t-shirt he had worn the previous day off of the rumpled sheets of the bed and stuffed it into his bag with the toiletries,
After a last, sweeping look at the room to make sure that he hadn't forgotten anything, he slung the bag over his shoulder and tucked his sport coat under his arm and left the room. He checked his watch. 8:15. He had a little bit of time.
After eating a quick breakfast of coffee and a bagel, he checked out of the hotel and loaded his things back into the borrowed pick-up truck. He was on his way. The day was gray and the skies were threatening to open. Half an hour and two wrong turns later, he arrived in the parking lot of what was unmistakably the courthouse.
It was a large old building, built of deep-red brick and at least three stories high. The front of the roof seemed to be held up by four symmetric, white, Roman-style pillars that stretched the height of the building. Imprinted capital letters under the alcove point of the roof near the top of the building spelled out the words 'Summit County Courthouse.' Carter straightened his tie nervously and began to climb the two-dozen steps up to the huge oak front doors.
Placing a hand on the brass doorknob, Carter pulled the door open and stepped inside. It was a nice place, overall. The age of the building seemed to hang in the air, reminding those who entered of the time it had stood on that ground. The wood plank floors were polished and slick. It was well lit by a chandelier that hung in the atrium, and several other lights throughout.
Carter didn't have too long to be worried about where he should go, where he should be, because hardly a minute later Conway burst through the door and shut it quickly behind him. He stomped the water off of his shoes and brushed a few stray droplets off of his coat. He spotted Carter quickly.
"You look like you missed the rain," he said, taking off his coat and hanging it over his arm.
"When did it start?"
"A minute ago, looks like it'll get worse," he said. He looked Carter up and down quickly. "You make it okay?"
"Yeah, not too many problems getting here. I'm confused about where I'm supposed to be right now." Conway nodded.
"Okay, we're going to be in room 4, just down through this hall, last door to the left," he said, gesturing toward a corridor ahead of them. Carter followed him down the hallway and through another door.
They were in another room, but Carter knew that this was not a courtroom. This was a larger area, with several chairs lining the wall, a few small metal thermoses filled with coffee and boiling water, Styrofoam cups and coffee and tea fixings. The room was carpeted and had a tall window through which Carter could both see and hear the rain that was now pounding angrily against the pane. There were six doors into and out of this room: the one through which they had entered, one each for male and female restrooms, one which led inevitably to the actual courtroom, and two others that led to unknown locations. Conway caught onto the mild confusion on Carter's face.
"It's just an area to relax while we wait for the hearing to begin," he explained, hanging his coat on a nearby coat rack. He checked his watch. "It's only 9:00, we should only have to wait 15 or 20 more minutes until they open the doors anyway." Carter nodded and put his hands into his pockets nervously.
"Okay," he said. He took a seat in one of the cushioned chairs in the large room. Conway nodded and sat down in a chair to his right.
"All we can do now is wait," the attorney said. Carter exhaled, drumming his fingers on the wooden arms of the chair. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to have multiplied since he entered the courthouse.
Conway toted his briefcase over and sat down beside Carter. He opened the leather case and began to review some papers, leaving Carter some time to think. He gazed absentmindedly out the window, where the rain was still pattering quickly and with strength. His thoughts remained blank for the few minutes that he was sitting there uninterrupted.
The sound of a doorknob turning brought him out of the reverie and his head snapped up, turning in the direction of the noise. The door to his right opened, and a small procession of people entered the room. The first was a heavy-set man with a full mustache and a head of thinning brown hair, who turned upon entering the room and held the door open for the people who were to follow.
"Here we are, everyone," he said to the space out the door. A tanned boy with short, dark hair and wire-rimmed glasses appeared in the room in a wheelchair, pushed by a girl with long, light-brown hair who was dressed in a skirt and top. A younger Black boy with short hair and a surly expression followed the older children into the room and quickly sat in the nearest chair, arms crossed across his chest. Last into the room came Grace, on her crutches and followed closely by a slim woman with short blond hair.
The moment that Grace caught sight of Carter, her eyes lit up and her face broke into a wide grin. Carter smiled back at her, almost unable to contain his excitement at seeing her again. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to all die as soon as he saw the little girl again.
"Daddy!" she said excitedly, hobbling over to him as fast as she could so that he could wrap her in a hug. He held her for a moment, catching the faint scent of strawberries in her hair.
"Hey, kiddo," he said. He let go of the embrace and she looked up at him, her eyes shining. He noticed that every eye in the room was turned to the two of them. "Good Morning," he said to them. The mustached man stepped forward.
"You must be Dr. Carter," he said, extending his hand. "Jeff Thompson, and this is my wife Linda," he said, indicating the woman standing next to him. She smiled softly, shaking Carter's hand after husband had.
"Yes," he said. "John Carter, and you must be Grace's foster parents." The woman, Linda, nodded and smiled.
Carter was led around the room, Grace introducing the others to him. The girl with the long hair turned out to be Iris Bercot, Grace's friend at the foster home. The Black boy was Lamont Love, and the boy in the wheelchair introduced himself as Thomas Benson. Carter smiled at him as he shook hands with the 13-year-old, noticing that he was wearing long trousers to hide the casts on his legs, but could do nothing to conceal the plaster that covered both feet.
Conway introduced himself to the Thompsons, explaining some of the legality of the whole situation. Carter was only half-listening. He had sat down again on the chair, and Grace had seated herself comfortably on his right knee. The little girl was dressed in a nice baby-blue dress, socks and buckled Mary Janes. Her straight blond hair was pulled away from her face with barrettes that were fastened on either side of her head.
He couldn't help marveling that this tiny, perfect little girl was his, that he helped to bring her to life. He didn't know much about her, but he knew that he loved her beyond all reason.
And so the hearing commenced after that, Carter and Conway seated on one side of the room, and the two representatives from SCCS on the other. The Thompsons waited outside of the courtroom with Grace to give her support and keep her company waiting for a verdict. The judge had decided that she might not want to hear some of the things that were discussed, though did not tell her so to her face.
After a while into the hearing, though, Carter understood why. Though a hearing is not as formal as an actual trial, sensitive questions were asked, many of which concerning the events behind his drug usage, the rehabilitation program in Atlanta, etc. Conway turned out to be right, though: there was so much pulling in Carter's favor that it was difficult to find a reason to deny custody.
Finally, the end of the hearing came after 45 minutes of debates and questions. The judge asked both parties to rise. Carter stood, a hint of nervousness shone on his face. He hoped that the judge didn't see it. He straightened his tie and smoothed a wrinkle from his shirt. Conway nudged him from beside, and all eyes turned to the judge.
"Dr. John Carter, the State of Ohio and Summit County Children's Services hereby grants you custody of the child in question, Miss Grace Elizabeth Knight. You will approach the bench, please, to sign the official papers," the judge spoke with a smile on his face. Carter was almost numb with joy and shock as his feet carried him up to the bench. A pen was handed to him, and he signed his name, forever claiming Grace as his child.
He placed the pen on the surface and thanked the judge as he turned and the hearing was dismissed. The two men from SCCS approached him as they made it their way to the room from which they had entered.
"Best of luck, Dr. Carter," the man with a large, bushy mustache told him, holding out his hand. Carter shook it, smiling. The other man shook his hand as well.
"You may go back to the Thompson household to retrieve your daughter's things, and then you may go back to Chicago with her," he said, shaking Carter's hand as well.
"Thank you, sir," he said. Conway stepped in to shake their hands as well.
"I have a question for you gentlemen," he said, speaking in his best gruff voice. "I was told that it could be arranged for Dr. Carter to visit the house of Miss Barbara Knight, with whom Grace lived before her death, in order to retrieve some belongings."
"Yes, yes, of course, I'm sure that can be arranged." Conway went off with the two of them, leaving Carter alone in the room. He had been so euphoric before that he had failed to notice the others who were sitting in the room. It looked as if the four children had been immersed in a game of cards. Upon his reentrance into the room, they had stopped the game, Iris holding a card out in midair, and turned to look at him. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, both holding Styrofoam cups filled with coffee, turned toward him as well. They were all expecting him to say something, he guessed as he stepped into the room.
He smiled. No words were needed.
There were acclamations of excitement from everybody except Grace. Even as a child, she did not have anything to say, but the beaming grin on her face and shining eyes said all that needed to be said.
They all left the courthouse together to go to the Thompson household for coffee and lunch. Carter drove his truck and followed the others through the curvy, wet roads to the house in the suburbs of Cuyahoga Falls. The weather was relentless; rain was pounding on the windshield of the truck and clinging to the street signs, making them difficult to read.
After about 15 minutes, he followed the deep red minivan into the driveway of a house. It was a small ranch-style house, with pale blue siding and navy shutters and trim. The front yard was green, and the flowers at the front of the house were well-kept and weeded. There was a small front porch, on which sat a wicker rocking chair and a matching swing that attached to the ceiling.
The garage door opened and the van parked comfortably inside, while Carter parked the pickup out in the driveway. As the children climbed out and helped Thomas into his wheelchair and Grace out of the car with her crutches, Jeff Thompson emerged from the driver's seat and opened the door that led into the house. He beckoned Carter into the house, and Carter quickly jumped out of the truck and walked quickly toward the house, arm shielding his face from the pouring rain.
The interior of the house was as neat, clean, and organized as the outside had been. He entered into a tiny room that housed a washing machine and clothes dryer that were silent for the moment. Following Mr. Thompson through a short corridor with only one door, he turned through and found himself in the kitchen. The kitchen was also ordered well, with linoleum flooring and a wallpaper border of garden herbs surrounding the room. Just across from the kitchen area was a scrubbed wooden table with six chairs surrounding it, complete with placemats at each place and a napkin holder in the center.
"Welcome to our home, Dr. Carter," Mrs. Thompson said, hurrying about to see that the children's shoes were left at the door on the mat.
"Oh, please, call me John," Carter said to her. "And thank you so much for having me here." Mr. Thompson took Carter's coat from him and hung it in a small closet in another hallway. Carter stood there nervously for a moment. He saw Grace make to go and play with the others, but out of the corner of his eye he caught Mrs. Thompson nudging her shoulder and looking meaningfully at him. Grace nodded.
"Daddy," she said to him, catching his attention. "Do you want to see the house?"
"I would love to," he told her. She took his hand and led him through the kitchen and into the family room, where the TV and stereo were. After that, she led him through another hallway, which contained four doors, turning out to be the master bedroom, the bedroom for the boys, the one where Grace and Iris slept, and the bathroom that they shared.
"Mr. and Mrs. Thompson have their own bathroom," she explained. "But their bedroom and bathroom are off-limits areas."
Carter saw the study, the formal dining room, and the backyard (from inside, as it was still raining). The tour concluded with a look at the basement of the house, half of which was furnished as a play area with shelves of board games, toys, and videos for the television. The other half was more of an adult area, with a ping-pong table and an upright piano.
"Who's the piano player?" Carter asked his daughter, looking at the piano.
"Mrs. Thompson plays. She's really good. Sometimes, she teaches me and Iris and Thomas to play stuff, too. Lamont doesn't care, though. He doesn't like the music," she explained. She made her way over to the wooden bench and pulled it out, sitting down and setting her crutches on the floor. "Do you want to hear me play? I'm not very good, though."
"I would love to hear you play the piano, sweetheart," he said, smiling softly. Grace nodded, a look of intense concentration on her face. She bit her bottom lip and set her fingers on the keys, looking as if she was trying to remember a song to play.
"Okay, this is called Lightly Row," she told him. Grace placed her hands in position and began to play a tune, though only with her right hand. A few of the notes were broken, but it sounded okay to Carter, who had never so much as tried to play the piano before. When the short ditty had drawn to a close, Grace looked up at him apprehensively, as if worried that she hadn't played well enough. He smiled warmly at her.
"That was excellent," he said. She beamed up at him.
"Thanks! I try to practice, but sometimes it's hard," she said, retrieving the crutches and pushing herself up off of the piano bench. She carefully lowered the lid onto the white ivory keys and looked up at Carter. "I think you've seen the whole house now," she told him.
"I guess I have," he said. Grace nodded and led him back up the stairs into the kitchen area, where Mr. And Mrs. Thompson sat at the table talking amongst themselves. Upon Carters entrance into the kitchen, the conversation stopped and they turned to look at him.
"Finished the tour?" Mrs. Thompson asked. Grace nodded.
"Yep," she said.
"I heard you playing on the piano. You are getting very good at that," she said, smiling at the child.
"Thank you," she said. She glanced sideways down the hall to where the other kids were playing, then back to Carter.
"Well, Dr. Carter, can we get you anything to drink? Coffee, water, soda?" Mr. Thompson asked. Grace took this as her cue to exit, crutches clicking on the wooden floors of the hallway as she made her way back to her bedroom.
"No, thank you, Mr. Thompson, and please, call me John."
"Only if you'll call me Jeff," he said with a friendly smile. Carter nodded, also smiling.
After an hour or so of friendly conversation, most of which concerning pros and cons of the men's occupations (Jeff was the co-owner of a landscaping company) and the wide world of sports, lunch was served at the kitchen table. It was simple-- sandwiches, potato chips, and apple slices—but Carter enjoyed it nonetheless. They had had to pull up another chair from the dining room to make a space for him at the table. He found the setting and atmosphere of the house enjoyable and pleasant. He was glad that Grace had been placed with such a great foster family.
After lunch, it was time to pack and say good-bye. Grace went into her bedroom and began to collect her things, with Carter watching and helping her. He noticed that, though she was excited about coming to live with him, she had a heavy heart as she tried her best to fold the few clothes she had there, tucking them into a blue duffel bag.
Grace carefully went into the closet and pulled a dress off of its hanger, hobbling back to her bed, where the duffel bag lay open. She placed it into the bag somewhat sadly, avoiding Carter's eyes. He wanted to help her, but could tell that this was something that she wanted to do on her own. So he stood, leaning up against the doorframe of the room, and watched as his daughter packed up the remnants of her stay with the foster family. Though it had been a relatively short stay, the Thompsons seemed to have had an impact on the small girl, making it difficult for her to leave.
"Okay, I'm finished," she said quietly, zipping up the duffel bag. She sat down on the edge of the bed, crutches at her side, with her head down, staring at her feet. Carter gently shifted the duffel to the side and sat down next to her at the foot of the bed.
"Okay," he said, nodding, as he shifted the duffel bag down onto the beige carpet. He glanced around the room. "Did you make sure you aren't forgetting anything?"
"Yes."
"Where's Squirt?" he asked, remembering the stuffed octopus that Grace had clung to during her stay at County General.
"In my backpack," she answered, not looking up. Carter nodded.
"Okay," he said. There was a pause, and Carter could sense that the child was anxious about leaving. "Sweetheart, are you ready to go?" Grace shrugged her shoulders. She sat for a moment, then suddenly turned and faced him, a new resolve in her face.
"Yep," she said, smiling. She took a deep breath. "I'm ready." Carter smiled, smoothing her hair with his hand.
"Are you sure? Do you want some more time?" She shook her head, hair swinging lightly around her face.
"I just need to say good-bye."
"Okay, take all the time you need, kiddo," Carter said, pushing himself off of the bed. He glanced around the small, cozy room where his daughter had spent the last four months, from the matching quilted bedspreads on both of the beds, to the shelves housing photographs of its previous occupants, to the big window with its matching curtains. It was a lovely bedroom, and it was easy to see how a child could be comfortable there.
He took a hold of the duffel bag and lifted it off of the floor. Grace sat for a moment on the bed, then swung her legs over the side and grabbed her crutches, coming down off of the bed and bending down slowly to pick up her backpack and put it on. She quietly led Carter out of the room, stopping in the hallway outside the door to let him pass by her. She took one last sad look at the room, then turned and went down the corridor into the kitchen.
"Ready to go, Grace?" Mrs. Thompson asked from her place at the kitchen table. Her half-open novel and coffee mug were suddenly abandoned when Grace nodded and she rose from the table. Iris and Thomas appeared in the kitchen then, and Iris was halfway to the sink with an empty glass before she really seemed to realize why Grace had her bags packed. She set the glass down and stared.
"Grace, are you leaving already?" she asked. Grace gave a half-shrug, half-nod, looking down at her shoes. Since the hearing that morning, she had changed into a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and sneakers.
"Yeah, I'm leaving," she said. Carter could sense the emotions flooding through the room and decided to go outside and put the duffel bag into the truck. He stepped out the garage door and prepared to run out into the rain until he realized that the rain had stopped. His shoes pattered through the small puddles welled up on the pavement as he walked to the car. Opening the cover on the bed of the truck, he put the bag inside. He closed and locked the lid, glad then that the cover was waterproof.
He made his way back into the house, wiping his shoes on the mat as he went, and walked back into the kitchen. He found that the whole household was assembled and saying their good-byes, wishing Grace the best of luck.
"Be a good girl, okay?" Mrs. Thompson said, bending down to give the little girl a hug.
"I will," Grace replied. Mr. Thompson hugged her next.
"Have fun," he said. She nodded again, her face displaying a complicated pattern of emotions. She seemed happy to be going to live with Carter in Chicago, but sad to be leaving this family that took care of her. She gave a small smile.
"I will," she said again. Thomas sat in his wheelchair, both legs stiff in their casts.
"See ya, kid," he said, smiling at her. "When we get our casts off, we'll have to get together and race each other. Bet I can beat you!"
"Bet you can't," she replied, returning the smile. Iris was the last to say goodbye to her. She approached her and gave her a slip of paper.
"Here's the address, if you ever forget it," she said, "write to me, will you? I've always wanted to go to Chicago, so would you tell me how it is?"
"Sure," she said, taking the paper into her hand. She took off her backpack and tucked the paper into it, zipping it and hoisting it back over her shoulders. Iris gave her a hug.
"Bye, hun," she said. "Stay cool. You're so awesome." They broke away from the embrace, and Carter could see that Grace had tears welling up in her eyes.
"Bye, Iris," she said. She looked at them all, standing there in the kitchen and bidding her farewell. She took a long look at each of them, as if committing their faces to memory. "Goodbye, everyone. Thank you all for everything."
"You are very welcome," Mrs. Thompson said. She was also beginning to get tears in her eyes. Carter put his hand gently on the little girl's shoulder. She looked up at him and slowly turned away from the foster family.
Carter wordlessly led her out to the truck, helping her into the passenger seat. She put her crutches and backpack on the floor in front of her and Carter closed the door, walking around to the driver's side of the vehicle. Climbing up into his own seat, he buckled his seat belt and put the key into the ignition, turning it and hearing the motor start. He glanced over at his daughter.
"Is your seatbelt on?" he asked her. She nodded silently, looking out the window. The headlights of the car went on as he backed out of the driveway. As he got onto the street, he saw that the whole of the household had made their way out to the front porch. Grace rolled down the window of the car, looking out at them.
"Bye!" she shouted, waving out the window.
"Bye, Grace," the calls came from the different members of the foster family as they all waved at her. Carter honked the horn twice as the car pulled away down the road.
Half an hour later, Carter arrived in the driveway of another small house. This was a small, two-story tan house with brown shutters and trim. There were dozens of trees on the property, and a small green front yard. It was 1674 Forest View Drive, Richfield Ohio. Grace recognized the building right away.
"That's Grandma's house!" she said excitedly.
"That's right," Carter said, parking the car and going around to help Grace out.
"How come we're here?" she asked curiously. Carter went around to the bed of the pick-up truck and popped open the cover.
"Well, we are here so that you can get some of your things out of the house and bring them to your new house in Chicago." Grace nodded slowly. Carter looked into the truck bed and snorted with laughter. Once again, Susan had thought of something he hadn't; the truck held a dozen cardboard packing boxes. He pulled two of them out and closed the cover over the truck bed. Heading up the path to the front porch, he fished the key that Conway had given to him out of his pocket. Grace took the lead as they climbed the stairs to the front porch and to the door. Carter turned the key and heard the lock click. Cautiously, as if he wasn't sure what to expect, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.
A smell of dust swooped out toward him as he crossed the threshold. Grace tagged close behind him as he stepped onto the carpeted entrance hallway. It was as if the house had been abandoned for years; the carpet emitted a small puff of dust from under his feet each time he took a step.
"Wow," Grace said softly, almost in disappointment and disbelief. "It's...not the same." Carter nodded slowly. Though he hadn't ever set foot in the house before, he could imagine how it had once been a bright, cheery place. He glanced around quickly, noticing a flight of stairs to his left.
"So, do you want to show me your room?" he asked, in an attempt to distract the child from the disappointment that she hadn't expected. She nodded.
"Sure. It's up here." She cautiously hoisted herself up the flight of stairs on her crutches, with Carter spotting her from behind. When they got to the top of the staircase, there was a small hallway with five doors. Grace led him to the one at the far right of the stairs, turning the handle and pushing the door open.
Carter found himself into a small, but cozy, bedroom, decorated in a butterfly theme. The walls were lightly sponge-painted a very pale pink, with a wallpaper border of butterflies. It looked as if butterflies from the extra wallpaper had been cut with a penknife and glued to the walls and even a few on the ceiling, clustered in various places. A white toddler's bed stood in a corner, sporting a pillow and a lavender, pale pink and white patchwork quilt. The dresser and a toy chest were also white. A set of shelves attached to the wall across from the bed held half a dozen china-faced dolls and other valuables.
"So this was your room?" he asked gently. She nodded, crossing the room and gently touching a lock of a doll's hair. She turned back to him.
"Want to see the rest of the house?"
"Yeah," he answered. The two of them toured the house, beginning with the basement and moving back up to the second floor. She opened each door in turn--one each to the bathroom and tiny linen closet, one to the master bedroom where Barbara had slept, the one to Grace's bedroom, and the last one, which Grace had hesitated to open. They soon returned back to her bedroom.
"So what should I pack first?" she asked him, eyeing the boxes he had carried in with him. Carter set the boxes down, folding the bottom of one in and turning it so that it was ready to be packed.
"Why don't you put some clothes in this one," he said, indicating the box, "and put other things that you want to take with you on the bed so we can wrap them in newspaper first." Grace nodded, and he leaned the other, unfolded box against the wall. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get the rest of the boxes."
He returned with the boxes, carrying them upstairs to the second floor and leaving them outside of the child's bedroom. Carefully being sure not to make too much noise, he went back to look for the bathroom on the first floor. He trudged back up the stairs a couple of minutes later, opening the door to Grace's room and setting the boxes inside.
"Okay, Swee--" he stopped abruptly, eyes finding his daughter lying still on her bed in the corner. She was curled up like a cat on top of the quilt, head on the pillow, fast asleep. Carter smiled. He didn't have the heart to wake her, so he quietly pulled a spare blanket that was folded at the foot of the bed over her sleeping form.
Carter left the room, so as not to wake his sleeping daughter. It had been a long day for her, and she probably needed the rest. They had a long journey ahead of them that day.
While she slept, though, Carter got an idea of his own. Peering into the living room of the house, he wondered if it would be a good idea to pack another box. This would be a box filled with things that Grace would appreciate more as she got older, like pictures and things. He decided against it for now, though, as he was quite sure that it wouldn't be their last trip to the house.
Half of an hour later, he trekked back upstairs to check on his daughter. Though he didn't want to wake her, he knew that they had a lot to do and not a whole lot of time to do it. He gently pushed the door open and peeked inside. To his astonishment, he saw that the room was empty.
A sudden, strange panic came over him. He didn't know where Grace was. He felt his heart begin to race, then forced it down. There was no way she could have left the house, he thought. He left the room and started for the stairs. Before he got there, though, he noticed that one of the other doors in the area that was closed before hung slightly ajar. He approached it and softly opened it more.
Carter's heart flooded with relief as soon as he saw Grace, sitting on a bed in the middle of the room and clutching something in her hands. When he entered she looked up, slightly shocked, then softened her expression.
"This was my mother's room," she explained quickly, as if she knew she was about to be punished. Carter nodded slowly, looking around.
Though the room had obviously not been used for years, it looked clean and undisturbed. A blue and white patterned quilt covered the bed, which was adorned with a few decorative pillows. The dresser, bureau, night table and desk were all built of the same honey-colored wood, and trinkets still rested on the tops of each. The walls were a cream color, with a border of soft pink flowers. Two large windows framed by light, breezy curtains let the sunlight in.
"Oh," he said. So this had been Lucy's room. He could have pictured that. Grace looked at him with uncertain eyes. He smiled at her, and she relaxed a bit.
"I wasn't ever supposed to be in here," she said, "but I used to come sometimes and just sit and think. I got caught sometimes, but Grandma never really punished me, she just gave me this look, like she wanted to cry." Carter nodded, approaching her. Cautiously, he sat on the bed next to her.
"Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded. Carter noticed something in her hands. "What have you got there?" She opened her palms to reveal a necklace. It was exquisite, though very simple; a small, round, perfect, shimmering pearl was suspended from a glittering silver chain. "That's a beautiful necklace, Grace," he told her honestly.
"I know," she nodded, and turned towards him, a question on her lips. She hesitated. "It—it was my mom's," she said. Carter had figured as much. "I don't know...I wanted to take it back with me. Do you think it's okay?" He smiled.
"I think so," he said. "I'm sure that your mom would have loved that." Grace smiled back at him.
"Could you help me put it on?" she asked.
"Sure, kiddo," he replied, taking the necklace and carefully opening the tiny clasp as Grace swept her hair out of the way. He put it back around her neck and fastened the clasp again. Grace let her hair back down and turned back toward Carter, looking at the tiny pearl hanging around her neck.
"Thank you, daddy," she said sincerely, smiling softly. Carter smiled back at her, putting his hands on his knees and rising from the edge of the bed.
"You're welcome," he said. "Now, what do you say we go back and pack up your things?" Grace nodded, and they left for the girl's bedroom.
They spent the good part of the next hour and a half packing up the boxes that they could. Grace packed clothes that she could, occasionally taking something into the bathroom to try it on to make sure that it still fit. Many pairs of shoes didn't pass inspection, as well as several dresses, pairs of pants and sweaters, among other things. With other things, like framed pictures and porcelain dolls, Grace handed the things she wanted to take with her to Carter, who wrapped everything in newspaper and, when he ran out of that, clothing, and packed each item snugly into a box. When the packing was through, the room looked sad and empty, and five of the boxes had been filled.
Carter loaded the packed boxes back into the truck and securely shut the cover on it to keep the rain out. It had started to drizzle lightly again, so that a translucent fog began to accumulate over the ground as the time came to leave for Chicago. He had left Grace inside with another box, in case she saw something that she had forgotten to pack up. He went inside the house to get her. As Grace stood in the yard and looked at the house for a last time, Carter locked the front door and pulled the key out. He turned to look back at his daughter. Her face was filled with a new resolve as she turned and followed him to the truck. He helped her into her seat and got into his own.
They drove away from the house, from the past. They were reunited, and nothing could separate them now as the drove away to begin their new lives.
Okay! That's the end! Good ending? Bad ending? Tell me in your reviews!!! I am going to be writing something else that will continue Grace's life, a thing with her growing up, if you will.
REVIEWER SHOUT-OUTS:
First of all, you guys are AMAZING!!! Thank you so much, you've pushed me over 80 reviews!!! That makes me so excited.
MeliGurlJo: Thank you sosososo much, for the positive reviews and everything. You are TOTALLY AWESOME!!! Thank you!
Psalm57: Sorry it had to end. I originally wanted to put the stuff about her growing up in the same story, but I didn't want it to be like 50 chapters long. So it's ending, but not really. Thanks a lot for all of your reviews and feedback.
ShadowSpade: Aww...it makes me happy that I'm making you happy! I love that I'm sort of writing for an audience. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for your feedback.
Strayct: Thank you, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, too. Thanks for sticking around and giving your feedback, I really appreciate it.
Noah Wyle's Chick 1989: I'm glad I'll have a reader for the next series. Like I said, I don't know what it will be called, but I'm sure you'll find it. Thanks!
Allie O'Brien: Thanks! I tried to update as soon as I could. Hope you enjoyed it.
Lucy719: I'm really glad you kept on reading. Thank you for the compliments! I try, anyways. Thanks for reviewing.
Lili: I'm glad that Carter finally has Grace back, too...lol! I was writing the last, like, 5 chapters and hoping that I could get them back together soon.
Okay, so I'm going on vacation next week to Ohio to visit our family friends...excited about that...so I'm going to try to write the first bit of the next story while I'm there and post when I get back around the 21st. Until then, it's hasta la vista, chicas y chicos!
Thanks again to all of you for making this a really fun experience!
Snapdragon247