Healing Grace by Lisa J. Lickel Read Free Book Online Page A

human side to her. “We just wish someone would figure it out, but so far…” He shrugged.
    She wasn’t sure how to take the change in attitude and kept her tone neutral. Just going for respect at this point, she reminded herself. No need for gory details. But no need to wound him, either. “I’m sorry. It must be hard on you as much as Eddy.”
    Randy turned his head in her direction but Grace could not read his expression through the reflective lenses. He nodded while staring at his twined hands. They sat on the top step, leaning on opposite pillars to watch the sun inch lower on the horizon.
    She lifted a hand to shift the hair on her sweaty neck. A truce? Is that what he offered? How far would he take it?
    “Um, Randy, can I ask about the place? About the orchards? After being at Overstreets’ today, I was wondering what happened here, if that’s not being too personal.”
    Randy pulled off the sunglasses and leaned back on an elbow to study her. His eyes were a faded imitation of Ted’s. The family resemblance in nose and cheekbone was obvious. Pain etched both their faces, each in his own way. Randy kept his steely hair military-butch short. He brushed his hand over the bristles.
    “I don’t know what folks have been telling you,” he said while looking down at his hands.
    She sat back and wrapped her hands around her knees. “I haven’t heard anything around town.” She smiled. “I don’t get out much besides church.”
    Randy looked her way again, his lips pursed and a stern line between his brows. “I guess we’ve taken advantage of you.”
    “Not at all.” Grace sat up straight. Eddy zipped up the steps between them, shivering. “Time to change your clothes buddy,” she said.
    He stamped his brown feet and nodded his head up and down, then slammed the door behind him. She called after him, “Remember to leave your suit in the tub, Eddy. Not on the floor, okay?”
    She looked at Randy, wondering whether to share a piece of her own history. “In fact it was an answer to a prayer to have some company,” she said instead. Maybe later. She wanted to know about the farm first. “But we were talking about the orchards.”
    Randy faced the barren field that stretched past the big house along the rural road. Where rows of fruit trees once marched, only mounds of stumps and overgrown grass remained.
    “This far north in Michigan is more cherry country,” he said. “Our father had a kind of apple he wanted to try, one from New England. It actually did very well and we had good yields. He passed away quite suddenly four years ago. Heart attack.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “He was a good man,” Randy said quietly. “Neither Ted nor I really had any interest in working on the farm. He knew that and, yes, was disappointed but didn’t try and make us feel guilty about it. I went for a degree in business management and am happy to work with the fruit grower’s cooperative. Ted started his own consulting company. Ergonomics, efficiency in farm practices—you know.” Randy looked at her. “This place influenced us deeply even if we didn’t want to do the same kind of work Dad did.”
    He tapped his glasses against his knee. “It’s natural to think your parents will last forever. We didn’t plan ahead too well. Anyway, Ted’s wife, Jilly—ah, ex-wife, that is—did management studies, too, at MSU. When Ted brought her here after they got married, she and Dad put their heads together. He liked her. It never even bothered him that she smoked cigars. She spoke well and was enthusiastic. At first, she did have some good ideas. We all discussed it, and he let her gradually assume management. Mom had been gone a long time by then.” Randy checked the screen door and spoke quickly, quietly. “I don’t know. Maybe he was just happy having a woman around again. Not that anything improper was going on.” He stared hard, challenging her to deny him.
    She didn’t respond. He could tell her more if he