Page 29 of Saving Grace

I grab my bag and head outside to Blue. An hour later, I pull up in a free parking spot by the gift and craft shop. As I walk inside, the bell chimes and an older lady wanders toward me. “Well, hello there! What can I do for you today, lovely?”

“Ah, I am needing to pick up some painting supplies.”

“Wonderful, follow me. Which medium are you wanting?”

“What do you have?”

She stops in front of the painting section. Shelves of brushes, pots, all sizes of canvas, and a large easel. The bell on the front door chimes again. “You holler if you want a hand, okay?”

“Sure, thanks.” I run a hand over the smooth fabric of a canvas, not looking back as she moves to help another customer. I slide out a medium-size one and flip it over, hunting for the price.

My eyes widen.

It’s obviously been a few years since I paid for supplies. I slide it back in and move along the shelf to an A3 sketch pad. The paper is thick enough for oil-based paints. I pluck one out and track down a brush set and a packet of twenty-four oil-based paints. Basic colors. Since I want to save most of what I earn at the moment, it’s enough.

I daydream all the way back to the ranch about the setup I can make. I don’t have any furniture. Maybe I can find something from a charity store and upcycle it. That would make another fun painting project. My mind wanders to what I could create. As I drive into the ranch, I look up to the mountains. What I would give to have the chance to paint them, or to be up high in them looking down and painting the landscape below.

Maybe one day.

If I stay that long.

If Mackinlay still needs me.

I kill the engine and haul my new stuff up to the porch. The front door bursts open, slamming against the wall. Mackinlay stands leaning on one crutch, face stone, brows down, and hand gripping the doorframe. “Where have you been?”

His hard tone stops me in my tracks.

“I was just in town.” I nod to the items in my arms.

Where is Lawson? Why didn’t he tell him where I went?

“When did you get back from your doctor’s appointment?”

His jaw feathers. “An hour ago. The house was empty.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize you needed to keep track of me.”

He waves something around in his hand. “You left this behind. What if something had happened?”

My phone.

Shit. I forgot it, I was so excited at the prospect of painting again I literally ran out the door without it.

“I’m sorry,” I say, walking up onto the porch. “I forgot it, is all. Where’s Lawson?”

“Ma’s.”

He shoves my phone into the bag I’m holding and spins on the spot. He winces as he moves inside. When I get to my room, I drop the bags on the bed with a sigh. I can’t tell if he’s worried about me or pissed I wasn’t here when he got home. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, I walk back to the kitchen. He isn’t there. Sitting on the sofa, his head is in his hands, his elbows planted on his knees.

Something in my chest twangs. Its sharpness drives me to where he sits.

“I’m sorry, I should have been here when you got home.” I stop a few feet from him.

“Who’s Joel?” he says from behind his hands.

“What?”

“Your phone. You have three messages from Joel.”

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