Grace
“Gracelyn Mae! Get down here, will you?” Mama hollered the morning of the peach festival. I’d been helping at her house by baking cupcakes all morning. The whole town was in a rush to get it set up, and I’d just finished putting on the red sundress Mama had picked out for me.
We hadn’t truly spoken about anything, and the truth was, I was glad. I was certain if we did talk, it would just result in another disagreement, and I was tired of having those conversations with her.
Soon enough, I’d be back in Atlanta teaching. Therefore, I didn’t see a point in arguing with her.
As I walked downstairs, Mama tilted her head toward me. “Oh,” she muttered. “Is that how it looks on?”
“Mama, don’t start,” I warned, feeling all my insecurities bubbling up.
“No, no, it’s fine. You look fine.”
Then Judy walked into the room, and Mama gasped, her hands flying over her mouth. “Oh my gosh, darling, you look stunning!” she remarked about Judy’s white sundress.
The sundress was identical to mine, just a different color.
Judy beamed so brightly and twirled. “Isn’t it fun? Oh my gosh, I’m so excited for today and for the fireworks display tonight. I think we are going to raise so much money for charity.”
“With that beautiful smile of yours, you’ll get everyone to hand over their money for the cause. Did you choose which one you wanted to donate to?”
Every peach festival, the church held a big barbecue and carnival, and all the money raised went to a charity. Seeing how Judy was in charge of organizing the event, she got to choose where the money from the event would go.
“Yes,” she replied, looking in my direction. “I want to donate to the MISS Foundation,” she said.
My heart skipped a beat. “Judy,” I whispered, and she gave me the most gentle smile.
“I just think it’s important, you know? The work they do; their values and support—it save lives.”
I tried to blink away my tears, and I nodded. I knew from personal experience how much they could save a life.
The MISS Foundation helped families who’d suffered from the unbearable loss of a child. When I had my first miscarriage, they were who I turned to. When I had my seventh, they were who kept me from drowning.
I’d once mentioned the foundation to Judy years ago; I hadn’t had a clue she remembered.
But, of course, she did. She was, after all, the one who restored my faith in humanity each day.
I walked over to her and gave her the tightest squeeze. “Thank you,” I whispered.
“Always,” she replied, squeezing me even more. “The dress looks better on you, by the way.”
Oh, sister, you and your lies.
The carnival began, and everyone in town was there—except for the Emery men, of course. I had asked Jackson if he would attend, and he’d said he would rather eat five hundred cans of anchovies than be surrounded by all the folks of charming ole Chester.
I couldn’t blame him. If it wasn’t for me being Chester royalty, I would’ve avoided it, too.
It was probably a good thing he wasn’t there because the number of times his name was upon someone’s tongue was infuriating. Jackson never talked about anyone in town. Heck, I was almost certain he didn’t even know most of their names, but they were true fanatics about tossing his around.
