Page 57 of Discovering Grace

“You two ought to go for a walk.”

Grace blinked at the strange pronouncement, turning to stare at her mother. “In the rain?”

“Yes.” Mama folded her hands in her lap, appearing most serene. “We have umbrellas, after all, and the fresh air is good for young people. Jacob, I charge you with making certain my daughter does not catch cold.” Mama arched one eyebrow at Jacob in a manner Grace hoped she would one day learn.

Though a grown man, and now the vicar, Jacob hastened to obey the command. “Yes, Mrs. Everly.” A grin stretched across his handsome face and he hurried to open the door.

Though she did not dare look at her mother again, guessing that Mama likely wore a most satisfied smirk, Grace hurried out the door and past Jacob. “I will get my spencer, and my bonnet.”

“Grace,” he called after her in the dim light of the passageway.

“I will meet you downstairs,” she said over her shoulder. Grace was not going to have any sort of conversation with him in the house. It might be raining, but the relative privacy of standing outside was better than being in a corridor where anyone might come upon them.

She ran into her room and rushed to her wardrobe, hurrying to find a suitable spencer. Her hand landed upon a deep green shawl first, and she decided that would do well enough. Then she found a bonnet and fairly crushed it upon her head. Her hair had not been done in such a manner as to make a bonnet stay on easily. She found gloves in her bureau drawer and darted out with them still in her hand. Then she recalled her slippers and turned back to find her half-boots.

Why did one have to completely change one’s costume just to take a turn in a garden? She grumbled to herself as she tugged the boots on and tied up the laces.

Finally, Grace made her way down the stairs to find Jacob. He was standing in the entry, with Garrett, hat on his head and gloves on his hands.

“I am sorry, Mr. Barnes,” Garrett was saying. “But I could only find the one. The others must be lurking in the wrong closet somewhere.”

When she took the last step, Jacob turned and she saw he held one umbrella. It was a large, black umbrella. The same one her mother would have two or three children use when they had need to walk in the rain from the carriage to the church.

Grace looked at Garrett, who appeared perfectly at ease with his lie. Interesting. She had seen the umbrellas in the downstairs closet near the door, where they always were, just the day before. Garrett pulled his shoulders further back and left, without even a backward glance.

Jacob cleared his throat, then went and opened the door. Garrett had forgotten that duty, it would seem.

With her head held high, Grace walked out in front of him. The rain was gentle; they hardly even required an umbrella. Jacob caught up to her and held it overhead with his left hand while he offered her his right arm.

Grace accepted his escort, her free hand balling into a fist at her side. The air smelled of rain, wet grass, and damp earth. She took in a deep breath, trying to anchor herself. On days like today, though they were three miles inland, she even fancied she could taste the salt in the air.

Several moments passed, the silence disturbed only by the smattering of raindrops thumping onto the umbrella.

They walked on the path around the house, in the direction of the orchards. Grace could hear the blood coursing through her ears, steadily beating in time with her heart. Her mouth had gone dry.

Had she not promised herself to be honest? And brave?

“Jacob,” she said, keeping her eyes ahead of them. There was the hedge. They would turn around that and be nearly out of sight of the house until they were halfway to the orchard.

“Yes, Grace?” He sounded curious, not uncertain.

She stopped walking, pulling him to a halt as well. “I need to tell you something.” She studied the buttons on his coat a moment, noting how evenly they were spaced, before she could look up into his eyes. They were so gentle, coaxing her to speak without him saying a word.

“You are my dearest friend.” There was a flicker to his expression, but she pushed onward. “If I said something, or did something, to damage our friendship, I should regret it all my days. But there is something else I would regret if I left it unsaid. And I know this isn’t proper—” She stopped, biting her lip as she tried to find the right words. She had thought of them days ago, repeated them over and over since realizing she must say something. Where had the words gone?

Jacob cocked his head to one side, his eyebrows lifted and his lips pressing together. She recognized the expression as the one he wore when he grew impatient but was too polite to interrupt. He would wait all day for her when he wore that look. Even if a thunderstorm burst overhead.

“It is not proper,” she repeated firmly. “But I cannot continue our friendship unless I tell you how I really feel. About you.”

His eyes darkened, and he took in a deep breath. “It just so happens that I came here to ask that very thing.”

“Did you?” She had not dared even hope for his curiosity on the matter. “Then perhaps it is not improper.” She glanced down, ready to gather her courage.

“Grace.” Jacob released her arm. The soft leather of his glove touched her chin, guiding her to look up at him. “We have been friends all our lives.”

She nodded as though unable to speak a word. The breeze picked up, ruffling her dress and throwing more rain down from the sky. They both ignored it.

“It is frightening to think of us as anything else,” he added, his hand lingering at her jaw while he spoke.