Page 55 of Letters of Faith
Healing is funny that way—it’s gradual and unnoticed until one day, it doesn’t hurt to breathe anymore.
The problem is that healing doesn’t take nosy neighbors into account.
As we round the corner into the frozen aisle, I spot the one person in town I try to avoid—Ms. Taylor. She’s an elderly woman, and if there’s a secret to be told in town, she’s the one to do it. She’s not shy about making her opinion on the topic known, either.
I know I told Grayson that I don’t mind people knowing about our relationship, but I wasn’t expecting her to be the first person we tested it out on.
I’m about to back up and go down another aisle when she turns around and spots us.
“Oh, Georgia,” she calls.
My shoulders tense, and Grayson must notice because he pulls me into his side, slinging his arm around my shoulders and placing a kiss against my hair.
I keep my gaze on Ms. Taylor, whose eyes widen as she takes in Grayson beside me.
Pushing the cart closer to her, I wait for what she has to say, knowingthat it’s never good.
“As I live and breathe, it’s Georgia Evans in the flesh—or did you change it back to Williams now that Nathaniel’s gone?”
Grayson tenses beside me, and red seeps into the edges of my vision at the gall of this woman. I keep my hands in fists next to my leg so I don’t accidentally punch an old woman in the grocery store.
That would be bad, right?
“It’s Evans, ma’am,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Humph,” she hums.
When she doesn’t elaborate, I can’t help but feel like this has gone easier than I thought it would. I’m proven right when the next thing out of her mouth is, “Well—I couldn’t be sure, seeing as how you’re here with that Lewis boy. It didn’t take you long to move on, did it? In my day, we knew how to mourn a person.”
Her tone is condescending as she looks at Grayson’s arms around my shoulders with her nose scrunched up in distaste. I feel him take a deep breath beside me, and I know he’s pulling himself together—reigning in the old Grayson so that the new one can stand tall beside me.
I’m about to rip into her—not for what she said about me, but for how she talks about Grayson like he’s not there—when a voice comes behind us.
“When was that Delilah? Biblical times?”
Mrs. Adams stands beside Grayson, patting him on the cheek before turning back to Ms. Taylor.
“Well, I never—”
“Was taught manners. We’re aware, Delilah. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like a word with the youngsters here,” Mrs. Adams says, turning her back to Ms. Taylor and effectively cutting her off.
Ms. Taylor stomps her foot with a huff and storms off in the opposite direction.
The smile that creeps over Mrs. Adams’s face ismischievous. The woman knew what she was doing. It makes me wary of what’s to come now that her sights are set on us.
She lets her gaze fall to where Grayson’s arm is still around me, and that smile of hers cranks up a few notches.
“Well, it’s about time,” she says with a wave, and then she walks away as if the sight of us together isn’t the biggest piece of gossip this town has had in months.
When I look over at Grayson, there’s a mixture of relief and happiness on his face because whether she realizes it or not, Mrs. Adams made him feel accepted in this town for the first time in his whole life.
Turning back, I watch as Mrs. Adams walks down the aisle, and when she’s almost at the end, she looks over and gives me a wink.
Oh, yes—that woman knows what she’s doing.
Chapter 23
Georgia
