Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Grace, thank God. I thought you fell off the face of the earth..." Jesse began, sounding quite genuinely relieved to hear from her.

"Jesse..." she repeated in a notably smaller voice than before. And that was all it took.

"What's wrong? Where are you?" he inquired with concern. Not that it mattered where she was. He would have covered any amount of ground to reach Grace, if she needed him. And presently...she needed him more than ever.

She paused for a moment before answering, unsure of her ability to verbalize what had taken place. It all felt surreal; as if she was somehow removed from the reality of it. Like it was a movie in progress and she was cast in the leading role. Boy, could she use some cue cards right now, she deduced, for she hadn't an inkling what her next line was.

"I'm at the hospital. Here, in town." she managed to get out

"What happened? Are you hurt?" he almost pleaded with her for an answer.

"No, it's not me...I mean, I'm not hurt...Can you please just come?" she settled on, hoping he didn't ask any details she didn't feel comfortable divulging over the phone.

"I'm coming. Right now. Just have to let my boss know I'm going to take some personal time." he dutifully informed her. "I'll call you when I get there so you can direct me to you." he added, barely waiting long enough for her to acknowledge his last statement.

Grace told him she would wait for his call and they hung up. She still had no idea how to tell him, where.to begin. Saying aloud that Gram was dead - murdered - was more than she could stomach. Telling him someone came into her home, aimed a gun at her, and pulled the trigger seemed an insurmountable task. Then there was Adrienne, who suffered the same attack, but not the same fate. At this point, no one had offered any information as to whether she would live or die; no explanation about her condition whatsoever. This was the part that took the already unbearable to a whole new level of unbearable. She couldn't figure out how to simply wait; not formulate opinions or speculate about what was happening in that operating room to which her cousin had been whisked away so purposefully.

No longer able to sit still, she stood up, stretching as she did so. She looked around the small waiting room, not sure what she expected to see. There were two vending machines in a back corner; one with drinks, the other snacks. Why this was relevant, she couldn't say. It just dawned on her that her wallet - along with the entirety of her life's possessions - were currently unavailable to her or anyone else, for that matter. They were presently lost among potential clues and forensic matter; a whole list of things she never imagined would be associated with Gram's house, or her life. Or associated with Grace's life as well. Both of them had naively assumed they were done dealing with tragic situations; that some sort of intangible quota had been reached. What fools they were, she told herself. What fools they both were to believe they were untouchable. She sure couldn't believe that now, and had a sinking feeling she may never believe it again.

Difficult as it was, she had no choice but to wait. With almost everything in her life turned upside down, she wasn't exactly sure for what she was waiting. It was possible she was waiting for the doctors to tell her that Adrienne didn't make it. Not generally a pessimist, she wanted to believe in the miracle of modern medicine or any sort of divine miracle, but she was finding it more arduous with each passing moment. What good was a positive attitude actually going to do for this situation, she mused. No amount of consummate thoughts would bring Gram back; nor would they alter the fate of her cousin. Whatever would be...would be, no matter how much one wished it wouldn't.

While Grace paced around the waiting room, anticipating the advent of any news about Adrienne, as well as the arrival of Jesse, the Crime Scene Unit was still busy processing the site. Thankfully, they had called in reinforcements from neighboring counties and the state police, for the police force in the tiny town consisted of the sheriff and four deputies, none of whom would prove to be at all valuable to the investigative process. For one thing, they could not be objective; all five of them knew Gram (Genevieve, to them), Adrienne, and Grace. They had all been acquainted in some fashion with each other for most of their lives. It's nearly inconceivable that any one of them had no emotional investment. Dutifully at the scene, the house, anyway, none of the five could even withstand the sight of Gram and Adrienne lying in pools of their own blood; three of the deputies running from the pungent smell of the blood; two of them vomiting right in the front yard. None could even tolerate the sight or the smell after the bodies were removed.

The Crime Scene Unit was a division of the state police, none of whom knew the victims or Grace. They had been carefully, methodically collecting evidence; scrupulously searching for anything that could tell them what had transpired. They painstakingly collected everything that could potentially be a clue, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed at the time. Of the items recovered as obvious clues, there were two spent shell casings from a .38 revolver; found in front of Genevieve's body, which laid at the bottom of the stairs; crumpled over almost as if she had been seated on one of the bottom steps at the time of the shooting. There was blood spatter on the stairs, the wall, the hand-carved banister, and even a small portion of the ceiling downstairs. It indicated the basic trajectory of the bullets, telling the investigators the positioning of the shooter; i.e. where he stood, an estimation of his height, and - surprisingly - whether he was right or left handed. The only other evidence found downstairs was a single strand of what appeared to be human hair, found on the body itself; on the front of her robe, near her shoulder.

 Upstairs was found a similar scene, as far as physical evidence was concerned. Another spent shell casing was recovered, this one also on the floor; giving investigators, at the very least, the positioning of the shooter. The second victim, Adrienne, had been found still in her bed, lying on her side with her head resting on her blood-soaked pillow. The injury for this victim, at first glance, was a single gunshot wound to the back of her head; the bullet entering behind her right ear. Her face was turned downward, her gaze appeared fixed; glassy eyes staring into oblivion.

 The first investigator on the scene, Matt Scheffield, may have made a fatal mistake if not for the one, barely audible moan emitted by Adrienne that he happened to be present at the right time to witness. Thank God for small favors, he thought to himself at the time. This was the point at which detective Scheffield stepped back and let the medics take over. They had to assess the severity of her condition; what needed to be done to stabilize her; prepare her for the brief trip to the hospital. After jotting down a few notes in his little book, the detective made his way back outside; something which, to the layperson, may not seem like the smartest move. Why would one be coming outside when the physical crime scene was inside the house? To Matt Scheffield, what was happening outside was sometimes just as pertinent, if not more so, than the carnage inside. It was a fact that some criminals, particularly arsonists and killers, liked to hang around to see firsthand the aftermath of their actions; to revel in the chaos they caused.

 When one actually managed to nab a killer in this act, it was because they gave themselves away; their actions were so indubitably inappropriate one couldn't help but notice if they were paying attention. Someone who is acting happy when they should be acting sad; the person or persons who display more than normal, morbid curiosity; the ones asking questions, hoping to know how much or what the police know. Detective Scheffield made his way over to a group of uniformed officers standing in a circle, deliberately taking his time; not so as to be conspicuous, but giving himself enough time to give the onlookers a quick once-over in an attempt to weed out the most obvious first. In this case, the crowd of surveyors was quite small; excluding anyone there in an official capacity, there were only a dozen or so people that had collected at the scene. This wasn't abnormal, seeing as it was a rural community. The detective was honestly quite surprised to see that many congregate, because the houses were so spread apart; maybe one every three quarters of a mile on the average. Genevieve's house, in particular, was rather set apart from her closest neighbors. The very closest of these was an elderly gentleman who lived about a half mile down and across the street. He was the first person who showed up to see what all the commotion was about. He had already been outside tending to his small, personal garden; which just happened to be in his front yard close to the street. It only took seeing the first police car fly past, kicking up dust, to grab and hold his attention. He could see the car turning into Genevieve's drive, so he hurriedly crossed the street, heading over to see what could possibly be of such importance it warranted help arriving so swiftly. He may have displayed a little more than a fleeting interest in the crime that had occurred, but then again he was always a nosy, old coot. To his disadvantage, Matt Scheffield was the one person who didn't know this particular bit of trivia. To him, everyone expressing more than the appropriate amount of interest was worth checking into.

 

Detective Scheffield arrived at the group of officers, having surreptitiously scanned the bantam crowd of onlookers along the way; rather covertly, he hoped. Though the admission of this fact would not change his status in the band of law enforcement drudges, Matt Scheffield wished fervently for no one to be made aware of the fact that this was his first endeavor where homicide investigations were concerned. He felt decidedly safe in his assumption that his secret would remain a secret; for the duration of the investigation, at best, and for only as long as it takes the average secret to circulate through the average small town, at worst. At this juncture, he was holding out hope for the former.

Knowing that he was probably not investigating the same way a seasoned homicide detective would was a feeling he did his best to repress. Perhaps his lack of experience and doing things slightly out of order would work to his advantage in some way...he hoped. At least he had the forethought to cordon off what he believed to be a large enough periphery to encompass anything and everything that may be a part of this horrific crime scene. He made sure to impress upon his fellow officers the importance of not contaminating the scene or any of the physical evidence, then all he could do was pray it didn't fall on deaf ears. Yes, he was a rookie homicide detective, but he was smart and incredibly intuitive, and he had faith in that acuity. As with much in his life, he would power through this investigation in true Scheffield style, leaving nothing to question; and very little left of himself by the time this investigation was over. He didn't know now precisely how difficult - and how close to home - this endeavor would prove to be.

Back at the hospital, Grace was still no closer to understanding how a calamity of this magnitude could have befallen her grandmother and her cousin; and how precariously close she had come to being a victim of this peril herself. Morning had come and gone with no news about Adrienne's condition; and afternoon loomed over her when her phone finally rang, actually startling her and causing her to jump, she was so deep in thought. The caller ID let her know it was Jesse on the other end, and she quickly answered.

"You here?" she asked, her voice audibly shaky, despite her efforts to the contrary.

"How do I find you?" he responded, cutting right through any small talk and getting straight to the point. Typical Jesse style.

Grace knew she would never be able to map out directions to her, so she did the only thing she could think of to do. She sent him in search of the nurse, Julia; the one who had ushered her to this waiting room. Then she just hung up and waited. She was uncomfortably aware of how awful she must look, so she wiped her tear-stained face and pulled down her ponytail; running her fingers through her long blonde hair in an attempt to untangle it. She looked up as she heard the door creak open, and there he was; his tall, well-built frame taking up nearly the entire doorway. For a moment, she couldn't look up at him. Her mind was racing; too many thoughts for even her multi-tasking mind.

Before she could even utter a word, he was there; right in front of her. She fell into his strong chest, burying her face in his shoulder as she felt his arms wrapping around her, squeezing gently. Then she just blurted it out without warning.

"Gram's dead! Oh God, Jesse, they got Addie, too!" she sobbed into his chest.

He gently put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her away from him; just enough for him to see her face.

"Grace, what are you talking about?" he asked, his words coming out quickly, the tone of his voice excited and worried at the same time. "Slow down for a second and tell me. What happened to Genevieve? And what do you mean they 'got' Addie? Who is they? Where is she?" he almost demanded from her.

"I went for my run this morning and I came home to cops. Everywhere." she began, barely able to get all the words out between sobs. "I ran up the driveway so fast I could barely breathe. The detective...he told me that Gram had been shot...that she was gone - she was dead! Somebody came in the house and killed her! And whoever it was...they shot Addie, too. They shot her in the head...but she didn't die. She's here, I rode with her to the hospital. She's been in surgery since we got here this morning, and nobody has told me anything! God, Jesse...who would do this? Who would want my Gram and Addie dead? Who?" she begged of him, knowing these were questions he couldn't possibly answer for her...rationally, at least.

She looked up at him through tears that now seemed unending. He let go of her shoulders, took a step back, and practically fell into one of the chairs. He wore an expression on his sun-tanned face that she was fairly certain she had never seen before; a combination of fear, worry, and disbelief all at the same time. His mouth hung open as he ran both hands through his curly, brown hair. He was, at this moment, truly at a loss for words. After a brief silence, he shook his head as if trying to throw the look off his face, looked up at her, still standing in precisely the same spot, and took her by a hand, pulling her down into the chair beside his. Adrenaline coursed through him. He could hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ear. It took him several tries to make his mouth form the words in his head, not knowing exactly where to start or exactly what to say.

"Why are you the only one here? Where's Chris and Caroline? They weren't part of all this, were they? Are they..." came a barrage of questions that would have continued indefinitely had she not intervened.

"Oh my God! Oh God, Jesse, I just didn't think...I was in shock...I...I'm a dreadful person! Who does this, Jesse? Who just doesn't call when something like this happens? Huh? Who?" she spewed, with obvious self-loathing, in a voice which became more panic-stricken by the second. The shock was beginning to wear off, little by little, and reality was coming to take its' place. "I don't think I can make that call, Jesse. How can I...no. I'm not the person to tell them. It would be so awkward  - too awkward - coming from me. Please, Jesse? I know what I'm asking of you. It's a lot. I can't let this be the first thing I've said to my uncle in years. Please, help me?" her voice dripping with authentic shame.

"Calm down, Grace. I'll take care of it. Please don't cry." he said, doing his best to conceal any lingering doubt that could have tinged his voice. "Don't worry about it. I'll call Chris, right now. We can't tell him any more than we know, now can we?" the last question sounding a bit accusatory; and that was not his intent. "I only meant that you don't know much; there isn't much to tell right now." he quickly recovered.

He shook off his insecurity, took his cell phone out of its holster on his belt, and dialed Chris's number. Half of him wished Adrienne's father wouldn't answer, and he would be off the hook, at least for now. But that's not what happened. In fact, Chris picked up after only one ring; almost like he was expecting some sort of important call. Strange, Jesse thought, somewhat out of character for Grace's uncle; and the victim, Adrienne's, father. From what he knew of this man, he was not the type to rush when it had something - anything - to do with his family. Especially Grace. Not exactly the warm and fuzzy one at family reunions. He certainly was on the mark today, though. Not information that Jesse planned to share at this point, but certainly could prove useful in the future. He never had trusted Chris. To him there had always been something slightly off about the man.

As Grace listened and cringed, her legs pulled tightly to her chest, her mind kept racing; too many thoughts to sort out by herself, with no help. See, she thought, this is precisely the kind of problem she would be going to Gram with; and she's not here, she wouldn't ever be available to guide her granddaughter again. Grace didn't want to accept that her lifelong confidante was gone. Forever. Something else had been gnawing at Grace throughout the entire ordeal; she just wasn't sure what it was. It felt as if there were something she was supposed to do, and she was just missing it, overlooking it amid all the other pertinent information and senseless acts of savagery. She was sure it would come to her eventually. Or at least half sure.

She put this feeling to the side and listened to Jesse's end of the conversation with her Uncle Chris. Poor Jesse for having to go through all these terrible happenings because of her. That had always ranked high on her guilt list. He was smart, she knew, for leaving out many of the details over the phone. As best she could make out, he just kept insisting Chris and Caroline - Adrienne's mother - get to the hospital as fast as they could. There had been some sort of accident and he didn't know exactly what happened, but Adrienne was here and she had been hurt, he deemed the best way of putting it. He decided to leave out anything about Genevieve, not quite knowing how to word that. They would find out soon enough, and he honestly wanted to spare them the agony of hearing the truth over the phone, delivered by him. Grace loved him for the kind person he was; and she was acutely aware of how many times he had bailed her out of a bad situation. She had a tough time deciding which emotion she felt more deeply; the love for such a wonderful friend, or the guilt for putting said friend directly in the line of fire so many times over the years. The jury was still out on that one.

As Jesse hung up the phone, she braced herself for what she thought was the 'inevitable' torrent of words; how could you do this to me, do you know what you just put me through, I cant believe I let you do this to me time and time again? But there was no torrent of words meant to berate her or cause her to feel any worse than she already felt. All he did for an uncomfortably long moment, was cover his face with his hands and shake his head back and forth in disbelief. He said nothing. He couldn't even look at her because he had absolutely no idea what to say next. She had never seen him quite so...off balance. He had always known the exact right thing to say to her at the exact right moment; like he could actually crawl inside her head and see...the truth. The unmitigated truth. The truth she had never shown and would never show...to anyone but him. Even Gram was not privy to everything, but she ran a close second to Jesse. Gram had never seemed to mind this. Because she knew first hand that some things are simply too difficult or embarrassing to say to a close relative; someone who has been present her whole life, and knew her comings and goings better than even she herself did at times. Grace had always loved that about Gram; that and her ability to smell bullshit a mile away. Nobody got anything over on Genevieve; she made sure of that.

"Are you okay? What did he say? Are they on their way here...because I don't think I can sit cooped up in this room with them, just waiting. Chris is going to find a way to make this my fault. He always manages to turn things around so the finger is perpetually pointed at me. You know..." she ranted; her tirade interrupted when the door opened again; and a stern-looking man in blue scrubs, holding a patient chart, entered the room. Grace was about to stand up to greet him politely, but thought better of it, for he could be coming to deliver markedly bad news. She wasn't sure that her legs would hold her up after hearing something to the effect of "I'm sorry, but your cousin didn't make it".

The stone-faced man took the few steps that closed the gap and extended his hand. "Miss Walker...Grace Walker?" he queried as he introduced himself as Dr. Stratton and shook both their hands. "Adrienne came through surgery very well. We were able to remove most of the bullet fragments, with the exception of one fragment that was too close to the brain stem for us to successfully remove. It appears to be stable at this point, so our main focus now is the swelling on the brain and keeping that managed. As far as further damage, the prognosis is good for her to survive, but there are no guarantees she won't have some permanent memory loss, as well as some other cognitive issues. She has suffered significant head trauma. All we can do now...is wait." he explained, Grace able to hear the empathy in his voice coming through.

She breathed a tentative sigh of relief at receiving even this limited information. At least now she knew something. Addie was alive and at this moment not much else seemed to matter. She was fairly certain that relief would be short-lived, though. Good news never stayed good for long in her experience. But she would take what she could get for now. She had an exhausting day and she didn't think she could handle piling a reunion with her aunt and uncle on top of everything else, so the news about Addie could not have come at a better time. It was time for her to bow out and let them take over the waiting she had endured the entire day. She could picture it in her head; Chris pacing around the small room, bothering the nurses every ten minutes to give him information they didn't have to give yet. And Caroline was another story. She never could handle much, in Grace's opinion, and this would undoubtedly send her over the edge; then all she would do is cry and pop some more Valium. Grace seriously did not want to be present for that; she had already seen it one too many times throughout her life.

Jesse agreed that she needed some food and some rest; not that he expected her to sleep particularly well tonight. He offered for her to stay the night at his house, knowing she could not - and definitely would not - want to stay at Genevieve's house for a while. They walked through the hospital and out to the parking lot; darkness settling over the small town. She felt a little better knowing that someone would call her if there was any change in Addie's condition; and it was a short drive back to the hospital. Just as they reached Jesse's car, it hit her. That nagging feeling she had all day like there was something she forgot to do. She gasped so loud it made him jump.

"Oh God, Casey! Jesse I just left her! I left her at the end of Gram's driveway! We have to go find her. Please, we have to go now!" she exclaimed rather loudly. During the short drive from the hospital to Genevieve's house, she sat rigidly upright in the car, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of reaching their destination. She honestly didn't care to see the house and yard still littered with police; it was too much a reminder that Genevieve was gone. She was so afraid they wouldn't be able to find Casey, she could barely breathe just waiting. Jesse could sense that she wasn't doing so well, and he put his hand on top of hers to reassure her that it was going to be all right; something he didn't actually know to be true. But he was praying for this endeavor to turn out well. He questioned how much more stress she could handle at this point. She was already holding back so much emotionally; he could tell without her saying so. He always had been the only one able to read Grace like a book.

He became more nervous the closer they got. When he made the turn onto Genevieve's street, you could plainly see that the Crime Scene Unit was still hard at work; having brought in flood lights so they could see what they were doing. It was like a movie set; everything looked surreal - definitely not what one would normally see around these parts. She barely waited for the car to come to a complete stop before she jumped out and immediately began calling for her dog to come; calling her name as well as whistling as loud as she could. He got out of the car and proceeded to do the same; working in the opposite direction. They tried that tactic for a solid five minutes with no result, and then decided to go to the closest neighbor's and ask if anyone had seen the dog. After all, the neighbors probably spent the better part of the day standing around watching this real life soap opera unfold before their very eyes. They started with the closest neighbor; old man Mullins - the nosy old coot who was the first one to wander across the street when he saw a police car go flying past him and turn into Genevieve's driveway earlier in the day. Grace held back a bit; standing behind Jesse as he knocked on the old man's door. He had always given her the shivers; there was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. It took him a few minutes to get to the door; they were actually turning around to leave when the door opened.

"I'm so sorry to bother you this late, Mr. Mullins. I'm sure you know what's been happening over there," he began, gesturing toward Genevieve's house across the street, "Is there any way you happened to notice Grace's dog - a black Doberman Pinscher? She would have been..." he asked until the old man stopped him in the middle of his spiel.

"Yes, I brought her in when I saw the young lady leave in the ambulance with the other girl. Figured no one else would bother with her; her being such a big dog and everything..." he said, a bit of the old southern drawl coming through. "Hold on, I'll go fetch her for ya." he finished and let Jesse hold the door open while he went to retrieve the dog, who had wasted no time in making herself comfortable in the strange old man's house. Casey bounded out the door, her small nub of a tail wagging feverishly at the sight of Grace, who hugged the poor dog so tight she looked as if she would pop. She thanked Mr. Mullins, profusely, for being so kind as to take the dog in. He downplayed his role in this drama as much as he could, offering his deepest condolences for her loss. She walked away with an entirely different opinion of the man, thinking maybe he was simply a quiet person who kept to himself - and helped his neighbors when in need.

"Okay, no more excitement for the day. Time to get some food in you and for you to take a nice hot shower and settle in. You need some sleep; you've seen better days." he instructed her on the short drive to his house on the other side of town. You really couldn't get any farther away from the crime scene and still be in Aurora, which  he deemed a good thing, considering present circumstances.

"Okay." she affirmed, too exhausted to put up a fight; and not really wanting to anyway. She had to agree that one can't go and go, on no fuel and with no rest. And she was famished after a long day at the hospital.

Already knowing the layout of Jesse's house and where everything was, she moved past him and headed straight for the bathroom when they arrived. A long, hot shower would definitely make her feel refreshed and relaxed; not to mention the fact that she probably was not smelling sweet as a rose. She stripped off her dirty, sweaty clothes and let them fall into a pile on the cool, blue and white tiled floor she remembered so well. Checking the temperature of the steamy water with her hand first, she stepped into the large shower and pulled its door shut behind her. She stood immobile for a while, letting the hot water run down her back, feeling her muscles begin to relax. Then she got herself clean and washed her long hair, taking her time in doing so. Part of her wished to be transformed into a stream of water, so she could run down the drain with the other streams and disappear. Anything to get away from feeling so awful.

When she was finished, Grace turned off the water, squeezed the excess water from her hair and stepped out of the shower. Beside the sink, in a neat pile, she saw the clothes Jesse had managed to sneak in without her even hearing a sound. Above the clothes, scrawled in the steam covering the mirror, read 'fresh clothes' with an arrow pointing down. And, of course, a smiley face. Not that seeing a smiley face made of steam really made her want to smile, but she did appreciate the gesture. She dried off quickly, combing her hair as best she could with the emergency hairbrush she left here years ago, and pulling on the sweat pants and big T-shirt he had left for her. She would worry about practical things like a toothbrush later. Frankly, she was so tired she just didn't care about all the little necessities in life right now. There were some pretty obvious demons in her path that she had to conquer before worrying about something so trivial as brushing her teeth.

She could smell bacon frying the second she opened the bathroom door and it made her smile for the first time today because it reminded her of the days when she and Jesse were thick as thieves; and all the two of them knew how to cook was breakfast. So they used to eat breakfast for dinner all the time. It became sort of a tradition with them, until she moved away and left all that behind. Oh well, she was here now - and hungry. She joined him in the kitchen, where he instructed her to take a seat at the small, round table by the windows. Knowing this all so well, and enjoying it immensely at the moment, she took a seat, pulling her legs to her chest to alleviate the terrible backache she had acquired from the extremely uncomfortable chairs to which she was confined at the hospital all day. There wasn't much conversation as he was preparing the meal; of course, Jesse never was one for small talk. She suspected that he didn't quite know what to say to her, with all that had happened today. So she didn't push the issue with him right now.

He finished cooking, piled two plates with food, and carried them to the table where she sat. Nothing better than salty bacon, runny eggs, buttery grits, and toast spread with applebutter to brighten your day - or your night as it was. Grace practically shoveled the food into her mouth, she was so hungry. They did talk a little; about Genevieve and Adrienne and their theories about what could have happened and, more importantly, why this could have happened to them. Who did it, they puzzled over? Who even had a motive to murder the two women? They couldn't fathom anyone having a grievance so great; and one that involved them both. It just didn't make sense. None of it made any sense. Not coming up with any solid leads, they finished their food; Casey having gotten plenty in the way of table scraps, and decided to call it a night.

While Jesse made up a bed on the couch, she let Casey out to pee for hopefully the last time tonight, then joined him in the living room - assuming he made the couch into a bed for her. He had this look on his face that said 'are you serious' when she went to lay down. Hoping for a little comic relief, he pulled the pillow out from under her head and swatted her with it gently. She smiled and shot him a look that said 'bring it'; so a pillow fight ensued - of course. She never backed down from a challenge, if she could help it. After he finally called a truce, he insisted that she take his bed. She hemmed and hawed for a moment, but knew deep down he was serious, and would not take no for an answer on this subject, so she eventually acquiesced and headed off toward the bedroom. She knew he was too much of a gentleman to try any funny stuff with her; or any other woman for that matter. She never worried about that here, having stayed here countless nights and him never even making a pass at her. They were best friends; it didn't matter if one was a woman and the other a man. At least, not to her it didn't.

She climbed into bed and grabbed the TV remote off the nightstand beside the big, comfy bed. At this moment, she sure was glad she didn't take the couch. Turning on the TV, she nestled in under the down comforter and laid her head on one of the fluffy pillows. She absent-mindedly flipped through the channels, knowing she probably wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough to watch even a half hour TV show. And she was right. As soon as she settled on a channel and kicked back...she fell asleep in the span of five minutes. It felt good to watch everything grow dark and not a sound could be heard. There was another bad thunderstorm this night, also, but not even a clap of thunder loud enough to rattle the windows would wake Grace tonight. And nothing did.