16. Grace

Chapter 16

Grace

"Where's Isaac?" I asked on Christmas morning after church, stealing a bite of pie crust. I used to feel so comfortable in this house, the wafting smell of apples, cinnamon, and Mama's gardenia perfume.

But not this year.

I hadn't been home since summer break when Elijah and I came home for Nanna's funeral. I'd sat between him and Isaac, biting my cheek and clenching my fists to hold back my tears. If Dad saw me crying I'd get chastised for being too sensitive. But college had taught me that stoicism wasn't a mark of strength.

College taught me more about myself than I ever expected.

I'd woken up before dawn to drive four hours straight from Syracuse to church. Arriving a few minutes early, I'd expected my oldest brother Isaac to slide next to me in our family's front bench, but he could have gone to the earlier service. So I'd sat alone and then chatted with familiar families to delay as long as possible, not wanting to spend a second longer in this house than necessary.

Not with this secret burning inside me.

Not with Elijah in Tokyo for six more months. I needed to tell him first, and this wasn't exactly news you drop into a Skype call.

So I planned to use Isaac as a shield from Dad … but his car wasn't here.

"He got into a huge fight with Dad last night," Levi said in a bored tone. "Dad overheard him tell Mom he went to his girlfriend Rachel's house for Hanukkah and forbade him from dating a non-Christian. He stormed off after dinner, who knows when he'll come back."

Isaac wasn't here. Isaac couldn't protect me.

Ok, I would be ok. I'd adjust my plans. Stay in the kitchen with Mama until I had to face Dad. Keep my mouth shut. Stay quiet, stay small. Wait for Elijah.

"I don't know why he'd bother with a Jew. Christian girls are better at everything that matters," Levi said with a lewd expression. I stifled my reaction, dodging his hand as he reached over to ruffle my hair, which I hadn't cut in a few months. "Tell me you've found some pretty college girl to take care of you."

I heard a muffled voice, almost unintelligible, like it was coming from underwater: "Honey, it's me, your friend Mallory. You're in Saratoga now."

"Merry Christmas, Leviticus, Jeremiah," Dad said, and my given name felt like a slap as he entered the kitchen from the garage, still in his crisp shirt and festive tie from church services. Mama plated his lunch then retreated to the kitchen. I desperately wished I could follow her, but I knew that would trigger a lecture about "a woman's place." That fight felt too close to the surface right now. Better to stay and shut up.

"After all," Levi drawled, as if Dad had interrupted a debate about Scripture instead of sex, "the Bible says that's what women are made for: taking care of their men. Isn't that right, Dad?"

"Of course, Leviticus," Dad said, proud of his son for asking a religious question since Levi barely paid attention during services. "Ephesians 5: ‘As the church submits to Christ, so wives should submit to their husbands in everything.'"

"Hear that? Submit in eeeeeeeverything." He poked me in the ribs.

"But you can't expect —"

"Sweetie, it's Mallory. It's all over, you're here with me now. Listen to the sound of my voice, and nod if you can hear me."

A wave of nausea rose, and I squeezed my eyes tighter.

"You can't, what?" Levi said.

"You can't expect women to submit everything to their husbands." I turned to my father. "If you had a daughter, you'd want her to make her own decisions, right?"

Dad leaned back in his chair. "If your mother had given me the girl I wanted, I would have shepherded her to remain pure until she had a good Christian husband to guide her."

That should be it. I should shut up. The plan was to shut up.

Why couldn't I shut up?

"But wouldn't she get to choose anything herself?"

"Of course," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder. "She could have had hobbies. But a woman's highest vocation is as a wife and mother. Isn't that what you want from your future wife? To be a good mother to your children?"

"If you can hear me, take a deep breath." My hand lifted to my chest, but breathing hurt. "This is Mallory. Nothing bad is happening right now."

When I didn't immediately agree, emotions clogging my throat, Dad's grip on my shoulder tightened, firm enough to bruise. "Our role as men is to protect and provide for our women. Isn't that what you want? A woman to care for?"

"No," the word slipped out.

"Oh my God, he's gay," Levi said with a condescending laugh.

"I'm not gay," I said defensively … even though I might be gay. I hadn't figured it out.

"If you don't like women, and you're not gay, what are you?" Levi snickered.

The truth roiled in my gut. The exploration I'd been on for months, the slow unraveling of what felt right versus what I'd been told, the debilitating fear of how people would react … they rose and converged, and before I could push it down, the confession escaped like a release valve.

"I'm a woman."

The truth hovered as the tension in the air thickened.

Dad's body froze as insecurity flashed over his face, not about who I was or what that meant for my soul … but about what his congregation would whisper: ‘Did you hear about Pastor Isaac? He can't even save his own son.'

Levi's eyes shifted to my face, then his cackle broke the silence. He recoiled in disgust and shouted, "Gross, he's a tranny!"

"It's your friend Mallory. You're in Saratoga. Can you open your eyes?"

I shook my head, rocking slowly. I couldn't, didn't want to …

Levi's outburst broke Dad's stillness.

"Don't blaspheme in my house," my father spat. "If this is what they teach at that liberal school, encouraging these self-centered, misguided lifestyle choices, I'm done paying for it. You're moving home."

"No," I said in horror. "No, I can't move home."

"That's ok, you don't have to open your eyes. Could you move your toes? A wiggle if you can hear me. Notice how the ground feels beneath your feet."

I pressed into the soft ground, bending my toes and flexing my heels.

"Then take it back," my father said sternly.

I wanted to. God, I desperately wanted to claw back the words. I opened my mouth to apologize, to explain that it was a joke, to —

"No," I said. My body refused to hold back, like trying to swallow vomit by putting your hand over your mouth, but your body forces it out.

"You always said you wanted a daughter, Dad." I held my arms out, voice pleading. "Here she is."

"There you go, sweetie, good work. When you're ready to look around, I want to show you this tree farm, it's so peaceful."

Levi covered his mouth to disguise a malicious laugh.

Dad snarled, "You've let the world seduce you and become blind to the Truth."

"If you open your eyes, I'll show you how beautiful it is now."

I shook my head, burrowing it into my knees.

You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination."

"That's ok, I'll tell you about it. The trees are, um, really tall, I guess? They're lined up in rows. There are pine and fir or … I don't know shit about trees. But they smell amazing. Can you take a deep breath and smell that, sweetheart?"

I did. I could. The crisp air of a winter night.

"Good breathing, honey. Again if you can, in and out."

I took another breath.Not just the pine trees, but also … it smelled like a candy cane.

"I have no daughter." Dad spoke in a low, cold voice, nostrils flaring. "Until you repent from these lies, you're no longer part of this family. Get out."

"Are you ready to open your eyes?"

I blinked into a cherubic face: soft blue eyes, rosy cheeks, strands of blonde hair escaping from a cotton candy hat. When she smiled, the lines around her eyes crinkled. "Welcome back. I'm your friend, Mallory."

I nodded. Mallory. I liked Mallory.

"Can you take a deep breath? We do this together at yoga class. Inhale for four and exhale for eight, ok?"

I nodded and followed her cues.

"We're in a tree farm. Can you look around and tell me five things you see?"

I did: trees, stars, wreaths, dirt, and … oh no. There was a big man over there pacing. His hands ran through his dark hair. My throat tightened as blood pounded in my ears. "That's not him. You're safe. That's my brother."

Dizziness hit me.

"No, sweetie, not Levi. He's my brother, you like him."

She whistled. The man turned. I blinked.

In the next instant, he squatted in front of me.

His hand reached forward. I shrank away. Mallory smacked it down.

"Are you ok?" His voice was a low rumble, deep and trustworthy.

"This is my brother Alex."

The twinkle lights behind him cast a glow around his head. "Are you an angel?"

Those dark brows furrowed and the lines around his mouth tightened.

Maybe he wasn't an angel. Maybe he was a beautiful demon sent to tempt me.

But weren't demons just fallen angels seeking redemption?

As I examined his worried expression, a hand touched his cheek. When he leaned into it, his stubble tickled my palm. "Are you ok? You look worried."

"You're seriously checking on me right now?" Amusement replaced the concern, the left corner of his mouth lifting. "You're unbelievable, Grace."

Why was he talking about grace? Mama loved that Scripture, " For by grace you have been saved through faith," but I didn't see how that was relevant.

Then I realized he was talking to me, calling me Grace …

When my head tilted, Alexander's smile disappeared, mouth painfully tight.

I wanted his smile back. "You're irresistible when you smile. You should smile more."

His cheeks flushed pink as he looked down at the ground, brow furrowed.

A bark of laughter stole my attention.

"Did you just tell him to smile more?" Mallory fell sideways. Her laughter was contagious. I felt dazed, but I grinned back. I liked making her laugh.

"The King of Mansplaining, Captain Masculinity, and you told him to smile more!" She wiped away a tear. He watched her with veiled amusement, the left side of his mouth curling up .

"Well, before you got distracted by his dazzling smile," she said, wiggling jazz fingers, "you were naming five things you see."

Trees, stars, wreaths, dirt, and lights.

"Good. Four things you hear." Cars, crickets, carols, footsteps.

"Three things you smell." Pine trees. Apple cider. And … what was that?

I lifted the unfamiliar plaid scarf around my neck. "This."

"What does it smell like?"

I couldn't describe it. Woodsy, but not quite. Maybe minty?

"It smells like hope."

Alexander tugged on his bottom lip. "Listen, I'm sorry that I —"

"Later." Mallory grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Is it ok if I touch you, to help you up?" When I nodded, they held out their hands and I stood shakily. "Let's get you home."

As Mallory held my hands for balance, my shoulders felt the heavy weight of warm wool, with the same smell as the scarf, but stronger: pine, mint, and … safety. Surprise flickered over her face as her gaze lifted to her brother over my shoulder. His cheeks pinkened from the crisp air, shivering in his thin sweater.

Alexander half-carried me to the parking lot. When I saw my truck, I felt a rush of panic and dropped my hands to my knees to stop the spinning.

Mallory distracted me by pointing out the tree in the truck bed. She said tomorrow, I could come over and make the popcorn garland, even though last year she grabbed the wrong bag and it made the dog sick, but this year she'll use the unbuttered kind.

While she talked, making plans and telling stories to keep me in the present, Alexander opened the back door and helped me inside. Although my hands were still shaky, as I came back to myself, my confusion was replaced with embarrassment. I tried to protest that I was ok. Mallory assured me that of course I was, but when I lose time like this, I feel exhausted. She was right.

I curled up on my side as she bundled her jacket under my head and he draped his coat over my body. My eyelids felt so heavy, I'd just close them for a second.