Circle of Grace, page 32
She felt Grace’s fingers shift in her grasp, and she looked up. Grace seemed a little more at peace now. Her tears had abated. Her face bore an expression of exhausted relief. And as Lovey gazed into the face of her friend, something stirred in her soul. No amount of money could repair Grace’s shattered life. Nothing Lovey could do would make it all right.
But she could be a loving presence, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold, a familiar face in a hostile world. She could listen. She could be there.
“Grace,” she said quietly, “I won’t pretend I understand all the things you’ve gone through. Despite my problems with Bo, I’ve never experienced betrayal like you’ve had with your father, and with Michael. I’ve never had to give up a child. I’ve never watched my best friend die. I’ve never faced my own mortality.”
A surge of affection rose up in Lovey, and she lifted Grace’s chin with a forefinger. She didn’t know where the words were coming from, only that they emanated from some hidden inner wellspring she had never fully tapped before. She felt empowered, confident, connected—to Grace, to herself, to the universe.
“You’re a courageous woman, Grace Benedict. You’ve dealt with all of this, and you’ve survived. You haven’t gone under.”
“But I’ve made so many mistakes,” Grace protested. “I’ve—”
“You’ve lived. You’ve found a way to be honest, and to trust.” Lovey looked around at the others, who were nodding. “What’s important is not the wrong turns you think you’ve made along the path, but where the road leads you. Somehow it’s brought you back to us, and for that I am very, very grateful.”
The drive back down the Parkway felt very different to Grace than the trip up the mountain earlier that day. A late-afternoon sun threw slants of green light through the trees and mottled the air with gold.
She had done it. She had owned up to the truth about herself, had told them everything—except the plan to end her life. She felt free, as if heavy chains that had bound her soul had been cast aside. Tess and Liz and Lovey didn’t condemn her. They loved her, accepted her. And in their love and acceptance she could almost feel a sense of God’s forgiveness.
Almost.
For the first time in ages, Grace wondered how different her life might have been if she’d pursued a real faith like Tess’s rather than accepting the stern, shallow precepts she had been exposed to as a child. It wasn’t the church’s fault, she supposed—she had never made much of an effort to move beyond superficialities to explore the complexities of the divine nature. Surely, as an adult, that much was required of her—not to have answers, perhaps, but at least to brave the questions.
But she had asked no questions. When it seemed that she had been abandoned to the consequences of her bad decisions, it hadn’t occurred to her to seek out a light in the darkness. She had simply assumed that she had been deserted to face the hard times on her own.
In earlier days, the harsh moral guardian within Grace would probably have interpreted the spiritual void as punishment for her many sins. But Tess had offered a different perspective—that a door slammed in her face represented not judgment, but opportunity.
Grace had encountered so many closed doors of her own, endured so many dark nights of the soul. But at last she had faced the truth. If her friends—flawed human beings—could accept her, weep with her over the wounds life had inflicted, embrace her without condemnation or judgment, what made her believe a supposedly loving deity would do any less?
The questions swirled through her mind, elusive as smoke, and there were no answers, no resolutions she could pin down. Still, the internal debate gave her plenty to think about, as well as a faint glimmer, just a spark, of what might be hope.
The shock, grief, and outrage over hearing Grace’s story had subsided a bit with the waning of the conversation, and now Lovey couldn’t help but think again about the note from Bo that still lay unopened on the coffee table in their suite. She vacillated between anger and chagrin, furious at him for intruding on her time with her friends, yet a little ashamed of herself for flying off to Asheville and leaving only a brief cryptic note behind.
No doubt he was angry with her, too. But it was about time he learned that she was a person in her own right, with her own feelings and needs and desires. If this trip had taught her anything, it had convinced her that she could not be a cheerleader on the sidelines any longer. She had more to offer than that, and if he couldn’t appreciate her and treat her with the respect she deserved, then—
Then what? Was she prepared to divorce him, to strike out on her own? At her age, accustomed to a lifestyle of ease and wealth, and with no salable skills whatsoever, starting over as a single woman in her fifties was a terrifying proposition. How would Bo react? What would Carolyn and B.J. think? What would her friends say?
What would John Whitestone say? whispered a small voice inside her head.
And she knew the answer. John would say—or, rather, he would encourage Lovey to say it for herself—that she could not allow fear to become the primary issue. All her life she had given in to other people’s expectations, pushing her own dreams and longings to the back burner. Now, thanks to John, and to Tess and Liz and Grace, she had caught a glimpse of a different way to live. Not vicariously, through other people’s approval of her, but directly, by identifying her own gifts and developing them. She had barely begun the process of becoming a different kind of woman, but she liked it. Despite the risks, she felt strong and powerful and clear-minded, and she had no intention of going back.
Grace pulled the car up to the valet entrance of the Grove Park. “I’ll meet you in the suite as soon as I’ve parked. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. We’ll change, and then get some dinner.”
“Great,” Liz said as she got out and held the back door open for Tess. “Brunch was a very long time ago.”
Lovey opened the passenger door, then turned back to Grace. “You want me to go with you?”
“No, go ahead,” Grace said. “I’ll be along pretty quick.”
Lovey watched as she made a U-turn in the front lot and drove down the hill toward the Vanderbilt Wing. When Grace was gone, she headed toward the Great Hall, following Tess and Liz.
But none of them made it to the elevator behind the stone fireplace.
Lovey was halfway across the room when she saw a man rise from a leather chair in the lobby and make a beeline in her direction. The Great Hall was dim, and her eyes had not fully adjusted, but she could see that he was big—tall and broad, with blondish hair. Backlit as he was against the open doors that led to the Sunset Terrace, she couldn’t quite make out his face. Still, she knew….
It was Bo.
Her heart sank.
“Amanda,” he said as he strode across the hall. “Amanda—”
Out of the corner of her eye Lovey saw Liz and Tess turn and come back toward her. They hovered just behind, avenging angels waiting to protect her. She could sense their presence, and feeling them near infused her with a rush of courage and determination.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “If you’ve come to grab me by the hair and drag me back to the cave where I belong, you can forget about it.”
He took a step back. “I—I just—”
Lovey frowned at him. Big Bo Tennyson had never, in her exceedingly long memory, been at a loss for words. He averted his eyes for a moment, and when he looked back at her, she saw not anger in his face, but something else. Hurt. Bewilderment.
In one beefy hand he held a single red rose.
“We need—I mean, I need to talk to you,” he said. His eyes flickered over her shoulder. “Hello, ladies. Nice to see you again.”
Lovey glanced back and saw Liz and Tess waving to Grace, who had just appeared in the hallway coming from the Vanderbilt Wing. Liz motioned her over, and with a perplexed expression on her face, she joined them.
“Liz, Tess, Grace,” Lovey said, pointing to each one in turn, “I assume you remember my husband, Bo.”
Not a one of them spoke. Instead, they stood with their feet planted and their arms crossed, no longer protective seraphim but obdurate female bouncers eyeing a troublemaking patron.
“Could we go someplace private?” Bo asked in a hoarse whisper.
“I don’t think so,” she responded. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of my friends.”
He took a shuddering breath. “All right.” He pointed in the direction of the bar area, where several leather chairs flanked a low table. “Can we at least sit down, then?”
They all sat, with Bo perched nervously on the edge of his chair.
A young woman in black trousers and a white tuxedo shirt came and asked them if they’d like drinks. Liz and Tess ordered virgin daiquiris. Grace requested Perrier with lime, and Lovey said, “That sounds good. Make it two.”
She turned toward Bo, fully expecting him to order a double scotch on the rocks, or at least a pint of draft beer. When he asked for a diet Coke, she stared at him. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he said.
They sat in uncomfortable silence while the server whisked away and returned with their drinks. Tess caught Lovey’s eye. “We can wait for you in the suite, you know.”
Lovey considered this for a moment. A sheen of sweat had appeared on Bo’s forehead, and he looked anxious and uncomfortable. For a moment she entertained a perverse desire to make this as difficult on him as possible, but then she changed her mind. As much for her friends’ sake as for Bo’s, she’d take pity on him.
“Maybe that would be best,” she conceded at last. “Why don’t you all go freshen up and come back down for me in”—she glanced at her watch—“fifteen or twenty minutes?”
Bo’s relief was palpable. When the three of them had taken their drinks and disappeared behind the massive stone fireplace, he exhaled heavily and took a gulp of his diet Coke. Lovey had the impression he devoutly wished it were something stronger.
He shifted in his seat, clearly uncertain where to begin. He fumbled with the rose, pricked his thumb so hard the thorn drew blood, then laid it on the table between them. “This is for you,” he said, sucking at the wound.
Lovey glanced at the rose, then back at him. “Why are you here, Bo?”
He bit his lip and looked around the Great Hall. “When I got home and you were gone, I didn’t know what to do. I found your journal, talked to John Whitestone. Neva figured you had come here for this reunion, and she called the hotel and confirmed it. I rented a jet, and—” He held up his hands. “Here I am.”
“Wait a minute.” Lovey narrowed her eyes. “You read my journal? You spoke to my counselor?”
“Yeah, I—well, I’m sorry about that. But when your wife leaves you without a word, you have to do something.”
“What do you mean, leave you?”
“Well, you were, ah, gone. Just gone. Then, while I was looking for some clue about where you might be and who you might be with, I found the notebook and read about how miserable you were, how you’d never had a life of your own, how you’d just been living out the roles other people set for you. And—” He cut his eyes out toward the terrace. “Other stuff. You know, about me. About us. Whitestone’s name was in there, over and over again, and—”
He stammered to a halt, reached into his pocket, and drew something out. “I didn’t understand it all, but when I came across this—” The words died away, choked and thick. It took Lovey a minute to recognize what he held in his hands—the double picture frame that displayed their college photos. He had rejoined the frame with a makeshift hinge of duct tape, but the glass on her side was still shattered. “This, I understand.”
The truth bore in on Lovey. He hadn’t read the note she left for him. He had interpreted the breaking of the picture frame as a deliberate act, not an accident. “You thought I was having an affair with John?”
“I did. I went to find him—to find you. To ask you—” He stopped suddenly and ran a hand through his thinning blond hair. “To give me another chance.”
Lovey sat back in her chair and swallowed half her Perrier in one gulp. The fizz burned her throat as it went down, and a curious sense of satisfaction swept over her.
He thought she had abandoned him, and he was afraid. Scared spitless, if his expression were any indication. She suppressed her instinctive reaction, the impulse to comfort and reassure him, to tell him about the note, to let him know she’d never intended to leave him for good. But she didn’t. For one thing, she wanted to hear what he had to say. And besides, it might not be such a bad idea to let him stew for a while.
“Go on,” she said, waving her glass.
“Well, like I said, I found Whitestone and confronted him. He wouldn’t tell me a thing about you—confidentiality and all that—other than to deny that his relationship with you was anything other than professional. But he did say some things that got me thinking.”
“About damn time,” Lovey murmured under her breath. He was on his own; she would give him no help. And she had to admit that she was enjoying this immensely. “Please, continue.”
“Yeah. OK. Anyway, like I said, I got to thinking. About us. Me and you.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do, Amanda. I don’t want you to leave me.”
“Why not?”
“Why don’t I want you to leave?” Bo frowned and chewed on a hangnail. “What the hell kind of question is that? Isn’t it—isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“You want me to say it out loud, don’t you? That I love you, and that I’ve been a horse’s ass, and that I’m going to change.”
Lovey suppressed a smile. “That would be a start.”
He blew out a tense breath. “OK, I’ve said it. Now what do you want me to do?”
“What do you think you should do?”
He puzzled over this question for a minute or two and then looked up at her. “Maybe I ought to quit being Big Bo?” he said tentatively. “Maybe I ought to pay more attention to what I have—and to you.”
Lovey arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
“You want to hear my plan?” His expression was eager now, hopeful.
“You’ve got a plan?” Lovey sat back in her chair and waved a hand. “By all means, let’s hear it.”
“OK, here’s the deal.” Bo leaned forward. Now that he had moved out of the realm of feelings and into action, he seemed to be gathering momentum. “I want you to come back, but I know it can’t be like it was before. I’ll support you in whatever you want to do. I’ll cut down on the drinking. I’ll shift most of the responsibility for the Big Bo stores to the managers. Hell, I’ll even sell the whole chain if you want me to. From now on things will be different, I promise.”
“Promises can be broken,” Lovey said quietly.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I know. That’s why I made an appointment next week with Whitestone, for both of us.” He picked up his Coke and swirled the ice cubes absently.
“You did what?”
“You heard me right. I know I’ve always said this shrink stuff is a crock of shit—” He paused. “Anyway. God knows you don’t have much reason to believe me, Amanda. But I do love you, and I want us to work on it. If it takes counseling, then dammit, I’ll go to counseling. I don’t want to lose you.”
He looked up, and Lovey was startled at the unshed tears standing in his eyes. In all the years they had been together, she had never seen him cry.
“So what now?” she said.
“I’ve got a jet waiting at the airport. We can be home in three hours.”
Lovey shook her head. “No, Bo, I can’t do that. This reunion is important to me. My friends are important. I need to finish what I’ve started.”
She glanced up to see Tess and Liz and Grace, punctual as a Swiss watch, coming toward them from the elevator.
Bo saw them, too. He fished in his wallet and retrieved two crisp twenty-dollar bills. “All right. I’ll take care of the drinks, and then I’ll go on home.” He gave her a pleading look, his eyes soft and liquid. “But you will come back?”
“Tomorrow,” she said.
“I could pick you up in Minneapolis.”
“My car’s in the long-term lot. I’ll drive myself. Barring any flight delays, I should be home by six.”
He rose unsteadily to his feet and jammed his hands into his pockets. For a minute he stood there, looking lost and forlorn, an abandoned puppy.
Lovey cut a questioning glance at Tess, who spoke for all of them. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner, Bo.”
His expression brightened, and he seemed to consider this for a minute. Then he shook his head. “Thanks anyway, but the four of you need your time together. I’ll just get a cab and be on my way.” He took a step toward Lovey and extended his arms uncertainly. She hugged him around the waist and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on his fleshy cheek.
“It means a lot that you came,” she said. “We’ll talk more tomorrow night.”
“You betcha.” Bo squeezed her hand, walked through the Great Hall, and disappeared into the night.
-37-
CLOSING THE CIRCLE
“All right,” Lovey said on Monday morning after breakfast, “we need to make a plan.”
The three of them—Tess, Liz, and Lovey—were sitting on the terrace, finishing their eggs Benedict and sharing another pot of decaf. Grace wasn’t feeling well and had returned to the suite alone. Lovey had protested, saying she’d go too, but she felt relieved when Grace declined the offer of company. Lovey had a different agenda for the morning, one that didn’t include Grace.
Liz sipped at her coffee. “What do you mean, a plan?”
“She’s sick, she’s alone. We’re all she’s got,” Lovey said. “We have to do something.”
“She’s dying, Lovey.” Liz shook her head. “I don’t mean to be blunt, but unless you’ve morphed into Jesus and are ready to perform a spectacular healing, there’s nothing we can do.”
