Read Online His Saving Grace by Sharon Cullen - Free Book Online Page B

all-night vigil for him on the floor outside his room.
    A vigil he didn’t deserve.
    Michael made his way to her and touched the gardening implement sitting on the workbench. “You always did love your plants,” he said.
    She placed more soil in the pot, spreading it until the roots were covered. Her back was tense, her shoulders rigid. He remembered enough to know she was angry right now.
    “Gracie—”
    “Ida said you ate breakfast.”
    He sighed. “I did. She’s an excellent cook.”
    “She likes feeding people.”
    Grace turned the pot around, inspecting the soil, patting it here and there.
    “I’m sorry, Gracie.”
    “For what?” She picked up the pot and carried it to an empty space on a shelf, where she carefully put it down.
    “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”
    She wiped her hands on an old rag, but she wouldn’t look at him. “I’m your wife, Michael. I’m supposed to help you. Not some strange man.”
    He touched the implement again, wishing he could remember the name of the tool. Wishing a lot of things. “Tarik has been with me a long time. He understands what I need.”
    She slammed her hand down on the workbench, startling him enough that he looked up at her. Her eyes were like blue flames, narrowed at him in a fury he could not remember seeing before. Her color was high, and, God help him, he was pulled toward her. She’d never looked so beautiful to him, and for the first time in a very long time, his body stirred in ways that were entirely inappropriate for the circumstances.
    “Why did you come back?” she asked. Her calm tone did not ease his apprehension, but it cooled his ardor, for it belied her fury. “If Tarik understands you better than I do, why did you return to
me
?” She emphasized the last word by throwing her rag on the workbench.
    Michael rested his hands on top of his cane and stared at the crumpled and mud-caked rag. There were so many answers he could choose from, but he chose the best, most honest answer. “Because I missed you.”
    Her laugh was laced with disbelief. “You missed me? You barely speak to me. You’re locked in a room with that man most of the time. You tell me you don’t want anyone to know you returned. Last night you were in so much pain, I thought you were dying. I sat outside your door all night, holding my breath and praying that Tarik would not walk out of that room and tell me you were gone.”
    He winced at the raw pain in her voice. There was nothing to say in his own defense. She was correct. He didn’t let her in—to his bedroom, his thoughts, his life. There was a reason for that. However, both Grace and Tarik had a very valid point. If he wasn’t willing to be forthcoming with her, then why had he returned?
    Because he missed her.
    Because he ached for her presence.
    Because for an entire year he had single-mindedly, selfishly, thought of nothing but returning home, ignoring the implications of his return and what it would do to Grace and a whole host of other people whose lives he was about to upturn.
    “I apologize.”
    “I don’t want your apologies, Michael. I want to help you. That’s what loving someone is all about—we help each other. But you push me away, and you refuse to let me help. What in the world is happening?”
    In his delirium over the past months, in his quest to regain the portion of himself that he’d lost, he’d foolishly believed that returning home would solve all of his problems. He’d thought that if he returned to the one place where he had been whole, he would become whole again.
    “I’m unsure,” he admitted.
    She rolled her eyes and turned away from him to grab an empty pot. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
    For one harrowing moment, he feared Grace would chuck the pot at his head. But that wasn’t his Grace. She may be furious, but she was never violent.
    “I’m being honest, Grace. I don’t know exactly what is happening, but I can tell you what I do know.”
    She put the pot