CHAPTER 8
"I'm s-i-i-i-i-i-i-ck," Grace whined to her mother two weeks later.
Sophie smiled sympathetically at her eldest child when she crawled on the couch to lay her head in her mother's lap seeking maternal sympathy. Grace had never been a good sick person. On the rare occasions she had gotten sick, it was a trial in patience for the Boscorelli household. Usually, Sophie put her to bed and the rest of the family kept their distance. Grace was one of those people who, when ill, periodically wanted someone to cluck over her but ultimately wanted to be left alone.
This time was no different - except for the illness. Grace had started sneezing and coughing a few days after the incident with Joe in the kitchen. The whole household knew what was coming and therefore kept their distance from Grace. The cold, in turn developed into a major sinus infection. Sophie had ordered Grace to the doctor and then to bed until further notice. Grace didn't argue.
He knocked quietly once and peeked inside. Sophie had said she was awake. She lay snuggled in the mounds of pillows on her bed, sleeping. Her complexion was pale except for the rosy tinge on her cheeks and nose. Moving closer, he could hear her labored breathing from the sinus infection. He smirked and kept the 'I told you so.' to himself. He didn't think Grace would appreciate the comment.
Sensing someone in the room, Grace forced her eyes open through all the drugs she'd taken to find the man she least wanted to see standing next to her bed.
"Did Belle send you up here?" She croaked. Belle had been nagging her for details of what had become known as 'the kitchen incident'.
"No," he answered softly. "Your mother told me to come up."
Her eyes closed and he thought she'd drifted back to sleep until he heard her ask, "What do you want?" before grabbing a tissue from the box on her night stand and launching into a sneezing fit.
Head throbbing and eyes watering, Grace fell back against the sea of pillows behind her, breathing heavily from the exertion, waiting for his answer.
"I heard you were sick," he said, weakly, feeling bad for his earlier thought. She obviously felt lousy.
"And what?" You thought I was up for a good argument?" Grace dropped the tissue in the trash can next to the bed before reaching for another.
"I didn't come for a fight," he said. "Belle said you were sick and I wanted to see how you were doing."
"So Belle let you in," Grace stated. She should have known. Belle never could mind her own business.
"No," he corrected, repeating, "Your mother let me in."
"MaMa?" She repeated, staring at him glassy-eyed. "But why?"
It had to be the drugs, Joey thought. Gracie wasn't usually this dense. "Your mother told me to come up because I came to see you."
Gracie blinked, fighting sleep. Heavens, even blinking hurt. Everything hurt. Thinking hurt. Either Joey was talking really slow or the last dose of drugs just kicked in. Whatever it was, she was having a really hard time understanding him. Why was he here?
Joe noticed the struggle she was having to keep her eyes open and decided it was time for him to leave. She had given up her struggle to remain awake and appeared so fragile in sleep. Appeared was the key word there. He had a feeling Grace was stronger than anyone gave her credit for.
"Was she awake?" Sophie asked, when he reached the entry.
"Uh, yeah, a little," he answered. "She went back to sleep."
"It's the drugs," Sophie explained. "Gracie doesn't react well to drugs, I'm afraid."
Well, that explained a little, Joe thought, glancing at his watch. "I need to get going or I'll be late."
Sophie walked him to the door. "Why don't you come by in a few days; she'll be off her medication by then."
Joe looked around the empty room. Belle said she was awake but Sophie wasn't allowing her out of bed for a few days. He started to leave when the bathroom door opened.
She didn't see him right away. Weakened, she was just trying to make it to back to bed.
"Hello."
A sharp intake gave away the fact that he'd clearly startled her.
"Sorry," he apologized, watching her hurry to her bed and slip her arms into a plum colored satin bed jacket before climbing the three steps up to her bed.
"How did you get up here?" she asked annoyed, arranging the blankets over her bare legs.
Joe knew she didn't realize her mortified reaction to finding him in her bedroom and subsequent dash to the bed had only drawn his attention to the appearance she was trying to cover.
The woman could have appeared in a spread for a Victoria's Secret layout. Not one of the fun-in-the-sun outdoorsy spreads.
No, Grace was definitely ready for the other kind.
Clad in deep plum colored satin and lace, and lounging in her massive antique mahogany tester bed, Gracie was ready to be treasured. And more.
"How did you get up here?" she repeated.
Joe turned his thoughts away from Grace in satin and lace. "Your mom let me in."
Grace rearranged the pillows at her back. "Why are you here?"
No one could ever accuse Grace of beating around the bush. At least with him. "Can't I visit a sick friend?"
A confused frown matted her brow. "I didn't know we were friends."
Shoving his hands deeper in his pockets, he shifted his stance. "I'd like to be."
"But we don't even like each other!" she blurted.
"Why would you say that? We hardly know each other," he said, stepping closer to her bed.
Grace nervously played with the needlepoint laying next to her on the bed. "You were always mean to me."
Knowing she was referring to their childhood, Joe simply remarked as if to explain everything, "I was a kid, Grace."
Wide-eyed, Grace stared in surprise. "But why would you do that?"
"Grace, I was kid! I don't know why!" Joe didn't try to hold back his disbelief. She really was naive.
"That doesn't make sense," she said, more to herself than Joe.
"Grace, it doesn't have to make sense," he said, grinning.
She got the distinct feeling he was laughing at her.
"I really did come to see if you were feeling better and to give you these," He said sobering the air between them. He pulled something from his pocket. "Ian had these from his girlfriend's boss or something. Anyway, I ended up with them and Belle said you wanted to go and well, I thought you could use them. And - well - here," he finished stupidly, handing her the white slips of paper before stepping back.
Hesitantly, Grace took the tickets. Reading them she felt her heart pick up in excitement. "This is a sold out concert - how?"
He shrugged. "Like I said - Ian's girlfriend or something."
Gracie stared back in surprise.
Uncomfortable, Joe began backing toward the door. "I'd better get going and let you rest. See ya around."
His hand was on the doorknob when he heard her voice.
"Joey."
He grinned. Only Grace and his mother still referred to him as 'Joey'. He turned.
"Thank you." She was still holding the white slips of paper as if it were some valuable antique document in danger of disintegrating if handled too much.
"Would you like to go?" She asked softly, adding, "If you don't have plans."
It was clear she was nervous about his answer. "Love to. I'll call you in a few days."
It wasn't until he was standing on the street that Joe realized he had no idea who or what he was going to see with the Gracie.
And then decided it really didn't matter. He was finally going out with Grace.
Chapter 9
"Grace, dear, you had a delivery today."
"Of what?" She didn't remember ordering anything and the little bit of mail she did receive really didn't constitute as a 'delivery'.
"I left it on the dining room table for you," Sophie answered, following her daughter. She had a feeling who the lilies were from but remained silent. She'd have her answer soon enough.
Grace stared at the lilies a moment before pulling the card out. She didn't need to look to know who they were from - only one person outside her family would know her favorite flower was a lily - or have sent them for that matter.
'Thank you, Lily-Grace' he'd signed it simply 'Joe'. Looking back at the mauve colored lilies, Grace felt her temper rise. Why did he have to blow the whole evening out of proportion? They'd had a good time at the concert. Joe had even admitted he enjoyed the music - not what he'd normally listen to but one should 'always broaden one's horizons;' he'd said as he paid for the artist's latest cd.
She thought they'd decided to remain friends, not romantically-involved-wanting-more friends. He was trying to push her into something she was ready for and really wasn't sure she wanted more either.
Sophie watched her eldest child's countenance. She was right. The lilies were from Joe Doherty. And although it was useless, Sophie made the attempt to lower Grace's blood pressure. "It was sweet of Joe to send the lilies."
Grace looked at the arrangement as if it were poison. "I don't want them."
"Grace, it's only flowers," Sophie pointed out.
"Why did he send them? What's he want?"
"Grace dear, it's just his way of saying he enjoyed your company; it doesn't have to mean anything."
"I don't want him buying me things," she insisted before changing the subject. "I'm not very hungry, excuse me."
Sophie watched her eldest hurry through the kitchen and up the back stairs, pained that she could do nothing to lessen the burden that Gracie refused to share. So much alike at that age, Sophie knew the trouble that Grace experienced when it came to compliments and gift giving - she knew the feeling of indebtedness and unworthiness that Grace was struggling with because she herself had also overcome the same feelings.
Spying the flowers, Sophie moved them to the buffet in hopes that Grace would return for them once she had calmed down.
Grace paced her room. Part of her seethed at what Joe had done; part of her was very flattered that he'd remembered. All of her was frightened beyond logical thought. She liked Joe - cared for him even - but the idea of more than friends sent her to the verge of a panic attack. Her heart would race, she'd break out in a cold sweat, breathing became a concentrated effort and all reason left her. And she couldn't understand the reaction, much less explain it to anyone else so she struggled with it in silence - knowing she'd have to deal with it at some point.
Curling up on her bed, Grace mentally prepared herself for what was to come - Joe would tire of her mood swings - her indecisiveness - her fears - and move along to the next woman. Grace would take full responsibility for the mess that was left behind because - well - she had let the situation get out of control.
When would she learn?
Grace refused to discuss Joey's gift with anyone. She would prefer to pretend it didn't happen although the arrangement appeared on her dresser late the next morning. She ignored them until they dies and then threw the withered remains in the trash along with the vase and card.
No evidence she'd ever received anything.
Now she just had to tell Joe not to do it again. She could handle the friendly 'hey-how-you-doin'-haven't-seen-you-for-awhile' hugs but it ended there. She thought she'd made that clear before the lilies fiasco. She guessed she was wrong.
Of course, it would be easier to talk to Joe if she didn't avoid any moment where she might encounter him. She supposed she thought if she avoided him, he'd forget about her and move on. At least that's what a small part of her hoped.
Adjusting the heavy bag on his shoulder, Joe scanned the sidewalk for any sign of Grace. He missed her.
"She's probably finishing up at choir practice," Belle informed him from the door.
"Excuse me?" Joe wasn't sure he'd heard correctly.
"She's probably finishing up at choir practice," Belle repeated enunciating each word carefully.
"Like at a church?" Joe asked stupidly.
"Yeah, Joe - like at the church we've attended since birth." Belle knew she and her family were in the minority when it came to their faith. Most people only attended church for Christmas, Easter, deaths, weddings or christening. The Boscorelli family attended every Sunday as well as attending many church sponsored activities. "You should head over - she'd be done by the time you get there."
At first, she thought she was imagining things. Joe had quietly come in and sat through the last fifteen minutes of rehearsal. Now she knew better.
What was he doing here? She thought, meeting him halfway down the center aisle. "Hi."
"Hi," he answered sticking a hand in his jean pocket, and leaning against the end of a pew. "You all sound great."
Grace seriously doubted Joey had sought her out to discuss how the church choir sounded. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to talk to you," Joey shifted his stance, drawing attention to his unease. "Want to -"
"Grace - you ready to run through this?"
Grace turned to the voice - the director - Joe thought - and gave the universal 'in a minute' signal - holding up her index finger before turning back to Joe. "Um - they're waiting on me -"
"Go ahead - finish up - I'll wait til you're done," Joe took a sear - a sure sign he wasn't going anywhere until he got what he came for.
Oh goody, Grace thought sarcastically making her way to the raised platform. He's going to wait - joy of my day.
Curious, Joe watched as she gave some instruction to some younger men as she slipped off her shoes, indicating to some chairs and the pulpit, which were immediately moved.
"Anytime Dan," she said, kneeling face-down on the floor as the lights dimmed.
It was the cueing of the music that clued Joe in to what was happening: Grace was rehearsing a dance performance. Intrigued, Joe sat back to watch. This was something he didn't get to see often.
It was interesting - beginning with the music. The words were familiar - Amazing Grace - or close to it. The music, however, was far from the traditional hymn tune. This music was almost a driving rock anthem reminiscent of the old heavy metal ballads his dad listened to as a teenager but this music became a strange sort of softness when combined with the sacred words and the balletic movements used by Grace to the interpret the piece.
He watched intently, It was clear to anyone watching that Grace held a special for gift for bringing sight to music.
She ended in the same pose in which she began. The building was silent a moment before filling with sparse applause from those remaining few.
"Looks great, Grace. You need anything else before Sunday?" Dan asked from somewhere behind and overhead.
Grace slipped on her shoes calling back that everything was fine, she'd see him early Sunday and approached Joe.
"What?" She asked referring to his dumbfounded expression.
"You," he stuttered. "That was - you are - wow."
"Stop it," she said brushing past him. Compliments always set her on edge.
"Wait - Grace -"
She stopped at the door. "What did you want anyway?"
"Why are you avoiding me?" he asked, remembering why he sought her out.
That caught her off guard. She'd never expected Joe to persist in whatever it was they were doing - or trying not to do.
"I'm not," she lied, feeling the heat rise up her neck.
Joe took a step back, followed by another.
"What are you doing?"
"I don't want to be too close when the lightening hits," Joe said glancing up before adding, "You're a terrible liar, Grace."
She glared at him silently.
"Did you like the lilies?" he asked realizing she was throwing up the walls again.
She wasn't going to give him any encouragement. "They were nice."
"But did you like them?" He took a step closer. A little too close. Joe wasn't really looking for an answer to whether or not she liked the flowers, she knew she did even if she refused to admit it. He wanted to know if Grace had accepted that he wasn't going anywhere - he wanted her.
He wasn't going to let her leave, she realized. She might as well get the nasty scene she'd hoped to avoid over with. She stuck her hands in her pockets and focused on some point on his jacket.
"I don't want you giving me things," she said quietly.
Joe stared at her silently. "Grace, it was only flowers."
"I don't care - I don't want anyone buying me things."
"But if I want to -" he argued.
"I can't take it when it doesn't work out, okay?" She burst out before hurrying down the street to catch her bus.
Joe let her go. There would be other times.
