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Grace
“Doyou need help at the church?” I ask Gran as I load another container filled with goodies into her car. “Maybe packaging up the gift baskets?”
“We can always use help sweetheart. Your mom and Maria will be there with me, and Leann and Alexis plan to come too.”
I bite my lip, wanting to ask about Terrance’s dad but worry he’ll overhear me. He’s over by the barn talking to Grandpa and Uncle Gavin.
“He usually comes in around noon,” Gran answers my unspoken question. “We used to deliver it to his house each week but he’s been coming in to pick it up. He sticks around for lunch, talks to a few of the regulars and then he’s on his way.”
I nod. I don’t know why I feel like I owe that man anything. Truth is, he hurt Terrance more than once and for years and years. I should hate him, and yes, part of me does. But I can’t help but wonder what or who he is without all the alcohol coursing through his veins.
I know they say alcoholism is an illness, and I’ve never dealt with someone battling it. I wonder if it's true and would Terrance's father be a kind man without it. It’s hard for me to believe that Terrance could come from anyone who wasn’t good in some way.
“You ladies need help?” My husband interrupts us before I can say more and I look at Gran hoping she knows that the conversations stop now.
“I think Grace is going to join me at the church today.” I want to argue but an even bigger part of me is glad she took the choice out of my hands. I’ve been dragging my feet for months, wanting to see the man he is today but worried about taking that step.
“Yeah,” Terrance offers me a smile but I know he’s wondering if I’ll be able to handle all the smells.
“You’re planning to go with the rest of the guys this afternoon, right?”
“Colton’s got a truck full of deliveries and we volunteered to be his delivery crew.” Terrance shrugs. “People are ordering stuff for Christmas gifts and he wants to get them all delivered this weekend. Not much time left to get them out before the big day.”
“Call me when you’re done and I may have you swing by and pick me up at the church,” I say to ease his mind. “Unless I leave with one of the girls, then I’ll let you know so you don’t waste the trip.”
“If you need me sooner, you just call.” He leans in to kiss my cheek.
“Don’t worry Terrance, I’ll take care of her,” Gran tells him and he offers her a smile. I know he’d feel a lot better if people knew about the pregnancy. We only have a little more than a week before everyone knows. I have already told too many and I just want my parents to know first before the rest of the family. I have the shirts to give them and I’ve almost caved a few times wanting to give them to Mom and Dad so that I can stop feeling like I’m about to burst and scream in the middle of one of the many gatherings we’ve had.
I hate secrets, I am so bad at them.
“Love you,” he says, offering me a wink before he turns and starts walking toward his truck. He pauses next to it looking back at me once more, and Gran laughs.
“That man can’t let you out of his sight.”
“He’s a good guy,” I say watching as he pulls away offering me one last wave out the window.
“Maybe he’ll feel better once the secrets are out,” I turn and look at her. “He wants to keep you and the baby as safe as he can.”
“What? Wait, no,” I say looking around to ensure no one is around to hear us. “How do you know?”
“Sweetheart, Gran knows everything.” She laughs, closing the back door of the van. “When do you plan on telling your mother?”
“I have Christmas presents for her and Daddy, the gifts sorta tell them for us.”
“I’d love to see the look on their faces.”
“You will,” I tell her. “I’m giving their gifts to them on Christmas Eve at your house. Then they find out when everyone else does too.”
“Well not everyone,” she bumps my shoulder with hers. “Aside from me and all the girls.” She reaches out and places her arm over my shoulder pulling me in for a hug. “Your momma would be so mad if she knew that I knew before her.” Gran laughs and my stomach feels like it drops. “I’ll pretend to be surprised, don’t you worry sweetheart, I got you.”
* * *
I standoff to the side, quietly observing as my pulse races. I see Terrance in his father, it’s mostly the eyes. The same eyes that I look into every day and can’t imagine such hate behind them. The man before me, sitting at a table with an elderly couple as they all share a meal, doesn’t seem like the same man I’ve heard all the awful stories about.
He seems at peace, smiling as the three of them talk and share stories.
The basket I’d made just this morning with all the essentials and personally baked goodies all tucked inside is positioned in front of Mr. Taylor. I’d specifically chosen Mr. Taylor as my recipient this year.
