Page 34 of Discovering Grace

The corner of her mouth tipped upward again, but it was more sardonic than amused. “I suppose I am going to have to change from a dull, quiet woman into someone more interesting. More like Hope, perhaps. Without her here to amuse and entertain, someone must take up the position.” Her shoulders slumped and she lifted her pen again, rather listlessly.

Frankly, Jacob thought one Hope was enough, no matter where she might be in the world. And Grace—they needed her, too. Did she really wish her nature away? He knew of no one more kind, no one as thoughtful and gentle, as Grace Everly. When she was a child, she helped calm temper-fueled spats and found compromises in their games. Hope blew through their years together as fierce as a sailing wind. Grace twirled about them like a summer breeze, familiar and temperate.

“I cannot think you would enjoy living that way.” He made certain he spoke kindly, so she could not mistake his meaning. Her grip tightened on the pen, but she made no effort to write.

“Might it be too difficult for me to be like my sister?” her voice rose unnaturally, making the question sharp.

Without thought, he picked up his chair and moved closer to her. So close, their knees nearly touched, and he could use the writing desk as easily as she. “Grace.” He spoke firmly, and honestly. “I have seen you do incredible things, good things, without betraying your true self. There is no one like you, and it would be a shame if you cast off those parts of yourself when there are so many who admire and love you just as you are.”

She drew in a slow, deep breath, not meeting his eyes. “Thank you.” Grace shifted, turning fully to her paper and dabbing her pen into the ink again. “You are a good friend, Jacob. I know it is difficult for you to sit by while I pretend to be Hope.”

It hadn’t been. Yes, it smote his conscience when he was required to act as though he did not know of the subterfuge, but Grace had somehow managed to keep him from needing to say much. The dinner party had proven trying. He’d wanted to speak up for her, to defend her or keep the others from commenting in a way that implied Hope held the position of favored twin. Yet he could say nothing without it seeming strange to others. He had spent most of the evening thinking of all the things he wished to say, and some of those thoughts cropped up again.

“Do you miss her very much?” Grace’s question drew him out of his thoughts.

“Hope?” She could mean no one else. Did he miss her? She had left a week ago. “I suppose I find it strange to know she is not about.” But he did not pine for her. After his initial frustration with the way she manipulated her sister into deceit, after the momentary pain of being left behind for grander things, he had accepted her absence.

Grace’s pen moved swiftly across the page. “Perhaps when Hope returns, she will not wish to go away again. It will only be a year.” She bit her lip again and bent slightly over her page, so he could not see her eyes. “She may finally settle down.”

Again, Jacob wondered where Grace saw herself in a year’s time. What would she do with her sister away for a year? Grace’s next birthday would bring her to four and twenty. Most young ladies would be married or betrothed at her age. Yet neither of the sisters had ever entertained suitors. But Grace had told him they thought upon it, that they spoke of marrying for love.

“Do you wish to settle down?” he asked, less interested in Hope’s future than he had been days before.

Her cheeks turned pink. It appeared she had entertained the notion. “I have not given it much thought. Papa seems to think no one paid us any attention before because of the oddity of being twins. I’m inclined to think that there is a lack of suitable young men in the neighborhood who could tell us apart long enough to express an interest.” She finally looked up at him, amusement in her eyes. “And I must say, I could never entertain a suitor who might confuse the two of us. Can you imagine? What if he came to call and took the wrong young lady by the hand?”

Jacob chuckled and leaned closer still, his nose only inches from hers as he pretended to confide in her. “Such a man would be a great clod, not to recognize the woman holding his heart. I never understood why people have such a difficult time telling the two of you apart. Even I, who know nothing of women’s fashion or hair, can see your personalities in your curls.” He reached out and caught one of the spirals peeping out from behind her ear and gave it a gentle tug.

Grace’s lips parted as she inhaled sharply. Jacob stilled. He had not been so familiar with either of the Everly sisters in many, many years. Slowly, carefully, he withdrew the offending hand. The tip of one finger grazed her cheek, which blossomed with a dark blush.

He sat as far back in his chair as he could without tipping the thing over. “What are you writing?” The question came out desperate, and had he been a few years younger he knew his voice would’ve broken on every syllable.

Something had shifted. He did not know what it was, or how to put a name to it. But somehow—with one casual touch—he’d thrown their friendship off balance. He felt it. Given Grace’s glowing cheeks, she had too.

“I am writing a list of possible activities for the picnic.” She pushed the paper at him, heedless of the wet ink her finger smeared on the page. Perhaps his action left her as befuddled as he was. The sooner they stood on familiar ground, the better.

Taking up the list gingerly, Jacob tried to focus on what she had written. The slant of her hand was quite like her personality. Subtle, but elegant. After he stopped thinking ridiculous thoughts, he studied the list and nodded with approval. “All fine activities. Except Blind Man’s Bluff. I do hope you will not play that one.”

She raised her eyebrows. “It is a children’s game.”

“Will children be playing? I was under the impression this would be a picnic for the young people of our community.” He looked over the sheet of paper at her, frowning. He had heard of even innocent games growing compromising, but a game with an individual chasing about members of the opposite sex while blindfolded sounded like a sure way to disaster.

Grace plucked the paper from his hand. “We shall see.” She pointed at another item with her ink-stained finger. “I also thought we might have an informal archery tournament. Yet I wonder—Isaac always loved the bow, and I should not want to remind him of his inability to shoot.”

“He will not expect everyone to forgo that pleasure merely because he cannot join in.” Jacob folded his arms across his chest, leaning away from her again. “Why not include Charades?”

“Because it will be a glorious day and charades is a game for inside a house when it is miserable without.” Grace spoke with decision. “We could play hide and seek.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Can you not think how that could go wrong?”

“Stag Out, then?” she asked playfully. “King of the Castle?”

Jacob groaned. “Must we play games at all?” At least the awkward, strange moment between them had passed.

“You sound like a vicar of sixty, instead of a man not yet six and twenty.” Grace laughed, and he could not help but join her.

“I am going to have to be an upstanding, stodgy sort of fellow after I take my orders.” He pretended to adjust the lapels of his coat. “Who would take a vicar playing Leap Frog at all seriously?”

“I suppose you might be right. Although I am more likely to trust a vicar who jests and laughs than one who is perpetually gloomy.” She tapped his arm with the tip of her pen, then immediately put it down on the table again.