Page 25 of The Unconventional Nanny
"I'm sure she just wants time to get things in order before telling everyone about it." I clear my throat. "I never asked and you never said, but what brought you to Willow Creek?"
Gracie flinches at my response and I want to kick myself. How could I be so incredibly insensitive.
I’m about to backtrack when she starts to respond. "Do you want the reason I give everyone, or the truth?"
Well, if that isn't ominous. "Whichever version you want to give me."
I can't exactly demand the truth when I'm keeping my own set of secrets.
She doesn't answer at first, and I don't demand that she does. We sit in comfortable silence, taking turns dunking chocolate cookies into the one glass of milk.
Almost ten minutes pass before Gracie speaks again. "I tell everyone it's because I wanted a fresh start and I figured the new town my brother moved to was as good of a place as any." She dunks another cookie but doesn't put it in her mouth. Just hovers it over the glass. "But the truth is I needed to get out of Chicago and away from my ex."
Every protective instinct goes on high alert.
"What did he do?" I try to keep my voice level and the concern out of my question, but I fail miserably.
I look her over, but don't find a single bruise. Then I think about how long she's been in town and do some quick calculations. There's a good chance anything that she had on her is now healed.
That would make sense. There's no way she would come to town with bruises on her. Not with a brother like hers. I haven’t formally met the man yet, but I’ve heard all about him and his friends. I consider myself protective, but based on the rumors, those guys take it to the extreme.
"It's so cliché really. Boy meets girl. Boy is super romantic at first, but then once her guard is down, he changes. It starts with him trying to control who she talks to. He tries to separate her from her family and friends, but she refuses. Things quickly escalate until he grabs her for the first time. Except, unlikeothers, she doesn't stick around or try to play it off as a one-time thing. She gets the hell out of Dodge."
Gracie tells the story like she isn't the one it happened to. I’m not sure if it's a coping mechanism or avoidance, so I cautiously ask, "Does he know where you are?"
She shakes her head. "I doubt it. And with any luck, he won't ever figure it out. That night he pushed me around, he told me I was his. And if I ever left him, he would kill me. I guess you could say I'm unhinged enough that I didn't care, because I left anyway."
Not unhinged. More like smart. But that leaves me with a million more questions.
"Your brother doesn't know?"
The look on her face can only be described as desperate. "No, and he never can. Owen will kill him. He won't even think twice about it. I love my brother, but he takes his role as big brother very seriously. If he knew what happened, that would be the end of it for Jeremy."
"I'm not sure that's a bad thing," I grumble.
Gracie groans. "Not you too."
"Any decent man would want to protect the women in his life, no matter who they are. Assholes who beat up on women don't deserve to continue breathing. As a father of three girls, I would hope there are men in their lives besides me who would want to protect them."
"Okay, I'll give you that." She smiles. "Soooo . . ." Gracie drags out the word as she dunks another cookie. "Wonderful father of three, a-ton-of-greats-grandson to the founding father of the town, landlord to me, and boss to God only knows how many people. What is it that you do for yourself, Ang?"
It’s silly how that one little question gets my heart racing. Because no one’s ever asked me that. They ask me about myfamily, town stuff, and even try butting into my love life, but no one cares enough to see what I enjoy doing just for myself.
"I'm restoring a 1947 Chevrolet 3100 series pickup truck. It’ll be powder blue when I'm done with it."
Gracie continues to stare at me without saying a word, but her lips turn up, so I ask, “What?”
"The excitement on your face when you told me about the truck. That's the kind of excitement everyone should have when they take on a hobby."
"What hobby makes you that excited?" I want to learn everything I can about this amazingly fun woman.
"I haven't found it yet. And not from a lack of trying. I pick up a new one every few months, but nothing has made me feel like what I just saw on your face."
Embarrassment tries to take hold, but Gracie's hand suddenly grabbing mine changes everything. I can't remember ever feeling a spark just from a simple touch. Not even with my late wife.
"Don't be embarrassed for how you feel about your restoration. I think it's great you found something that brings you joy. When did you start working on the truck?"
I clear my throat since her hand is still on mine and it’s making me feel something I haven’t in a long time. "About a year ago. I saw the truck while I was on a job two towns over. It was sitting in a field, wasting away, and I knew I could bring it back to life. A classic like that didn't deserve the fate it was given."
