Charming Grace by Deborah Smith Read Free Book Online Page A

shifted. He took in the shadowy room with a horrified expression that twisted my stomach. We existed in its center, under a small umbrella of sepia light. “Don’t let nobody turn out the light,” he whispered. “I can’t stand to be alone in the dark no more.”
    I gasped. Harp Vance was afraid of the dark—one of his many small, painful peculiarities, like loving glossy Santas and believing I was an angel. I thought of all those lonely mountain nights in the pitch-black woods. What that must have done to him. How much darkness he’d endured. Nobody but him in his darkness, he thought.
    I opened my Barbie purse and pulled out the ladyslipper he’d been clutching when I found him. ““Look what I have! I saved her for you. G. Helen got me some wet paper towels and a little plastic bag full of dirt, so look! She’s been watered and she’s all perked up! She says she’s feeling much better, thank you.”
    He watched in dull amazement as I set the battered little orchid in a water cup on his nightstand. “You’re plain crazy , you know.”
    “No. I’m peculiar . That’s much more interesting.” I pointed to the orchid. “She’s your angel. She’ll stay right here and make sure you’re just fine whenever I’m not around to look after you. But she needs a name. You have to name your angels, otherwise they won’t know to come when you call.”
    He frowned in groggy silence. “Dancer,” he said.
    “Dancer. Oh, that’s beautiful! Perfect!” I carefully put one hand over his and whispered, “Dancer and me, we’ll always be here. You’re not alone in the dark. Not anymore.”
    Finally, he smiled.
     

HERO
    SCRIPT AND DIRECTOR’S NOTES
    PROPERTY OF STONE SENTERRA
    WHOEVER YOU ARE, DO NOT TRY TO GET INTO THIS FILE, AGAIN!
    DAHLONEGA: Classic small town, nice little state college, lots of trees, big old houses, historic square. Mayberry with money. Kids on sidewalk in front of the fudge shop, (note to self: order more chocolate pecan fudge,) old people sunning on the courthouse lawn, ROTC cadets practicing salutes. In the mountains outside town there’s the U.S. Army Ranger Camp. Kickass bastards. God I love those guys.
    SCENE: Fade in on storefront hardware store, 1970’s, morph to same storefront, 2002. Now a café and wine bar. Do Drop In , a sign says in a shop window next door. Harp Vance and GBI partner Grunt Gianelli walk into an ice cream parlor.
    HARP
                            (to clerk)
This is my new partner. He’s from New Jersey. He’ll probably ask for ‘a soda pop and a strawberry ice.’ He means a Coke and a slushie.
    Note to self: No. Grunt speaks first. I play Grunt. Grunt always speaks first .
    Second Note to self: Tell Boone he’s not really fired. AGAIN.
     

Chapter 4
    “Tell us about your husband’s home town, Mrs. Vance,” reporters asked me after Harp died. “What made it so special to him?”
    “No one but me could find him here,” I said. “He liked it that way.”
    Dahlonega sprawls over a high, rolling knoll with views of blue mountains and misty valleys. Small homes and businesses, backyard gardens, churches, ball fields and a Wal-Mart are scattered among a blanket of old trees over old mine shafts and legends of untapped gold veins. North Georgia College curls along one side of downtown like a good-hearted dog laying close to a fireplace; there are no fences, no serious security gates, and no sense that the tough old military school has minded adding women and liberal arts over the years. A couple of fast roads zip down to Hwy. 400, the four-lane headed south to Atlanta, but otherwise the roads outside town are narrow and quiet, sneaking like veins into the surrounding ridges and hollows and creek valleys, where even smaller, often graveled, lanes feed life to the farthest edges of the peaceful state of mind that is Lumpkin County.
    Dahlonega had been the center of celebrity attention before, but nothing like Stone Senterra. Before Stone,