Saving Grace

40

Grace, silent and still, leaned into my chest as we sat on the front porch of Jack Russo's beach house.

"We were coming to visit him," I told the young officer, holding Grace tight and stroking her upper-arm. "Jack and Grace have been friends for some time, and it had been a while since they had talked so we decided to come down for the weekend to surprise him. We never suspected he might do something like this."

I lowered my eyes, looked out across the yard. A shadow, buried deep in a cluster of trees, shifted. I narrowed my eyes.

"Thank you for your time," the policewoman said, brushing her brown hair out of her eyes. "Is there anyone we can call for you?"

I met her gaze.

"No, thank you," I smiled stiffly. "A friend of mine is on his way already."

She nodded, offered a sympathetic smile and left us sitting in blue morning. I looked down at Grace, softly kissed her hair.

"Do you think you could wait here for a minute? I have to do something real quick."

Wordlessly, she peeled herself away from me and leaned against one of the cold concrete beams holding up the porch roof. I squeezed her hand and got to my feet.

"Thought you would've left by now," I said, approaching the shifting shadow in the cluster of trees. Godric smiled, buried his hands in his pockets.

"I make sure you are okay first."

I smiled humourlessly.

"It's not me I'm worried about," I said, glancing back at Grace.

"Ah," Godric grinned, patting my shoulder. "She will be fine, Richard. Russo is gone. The world is wide open. Besides, she has you."

I looked up at him, managed a smile. Godric's grin grew, spreading to his eyes.

"You are so much like Athelstan," he said. "Always worrying, always caring. But you know, you did something he never could – you acted, and you acted despite fear." Godric offered a nod. "He would be proud."

There was warmth in Godric's eyes that day. It existed despite the cold, pale blue morning, despite the corpse in Jack Russo's beach house, and despite my traumatised lover, silent and retreated on the front porch step. He even managed to wrap his enormous, muscular arms around my scrawny body and clutch my head to his chest. It only lasted a moment and by the second minute, he was gone – back to his ordinary, psychopathic self.

© A.G. Travers 2018