Grace
My past time have been painting on canvas and drawing free hand, even before my life in the abbey began. Every morning since Rachel and I bought all my art supplies, I’ve been drawing and painting nonstop. Even during my visits with Mama, all I do is paint.
One day, after starting on another piece, I decided to create a montage of Mama Ada’s different expressions. She has a special look for each member of her family. I am busy touching up my latest drawing in Mama’s reading room when a knock on the door startles me. I shove the sketchpad inside my portfolio case before opening the door.
“Hi,” Nix starts, already wearing a frown. “We need to leave.”
“Leave? Right now?” I look at the huge clock on the wall. “Um, but I promised Mama Ada I’d be here when they got back from the doctor’s.”
He blows out a breath. “I know, but Drake needs me—now.”
“Oh. Well, um…I can stay and wait for them. That way, they wouldn’t be surprised that I wasn’t here.”
“I can’t leave you alone, Grace. You know why.”
“Okay,” I mutter without hesitation.
I’ve learned not to argue every time Nix says, You know why. I know I’d never win anyway.
“Let me just get my sweater.”
He jerks his chin upward then takes a step back. I straighten my long-sleeved, navy-blue button-down shirt and quickly slip into my black flats. Then, I grab my cardigan before reaching for my purse. I step out and find him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His biceps look extremely huge.
I wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers—
Grace! the angel side of my conscience scolds the worldly, salivating side of me.
I’m gonna burn in hell.
“I’m ready.”
“You don’t need your purse. Leave it. We’re coming back later.”
I rush back in the room, tossing my purse on the floor. I hustle to follow him when my deviant inner self zeroes in on his well-toned bottom.
Why am I always sinning around this man?
You’re not sinning, Grace. You’re admiring without malice.
I frown internally.
Honestly, my conscience is correct. I am definitely admiring with my modesty still intact.
Wrong! Five Our Fathers and five Hail Marys for you, Grace!
My frown deepens when he walks straight to the garage and not outside where his truck is. So, as soon as I step into the garage I immediately walk toward Mama Ada’s car, patiently waiting for him to walk to the driver’s side. A few seconds later, he clears his throat, catching my attention. I turn to face him.
“We’re not taking her car. Do you see the size of that thing?”
Frowning, I turn back and look at the cute Smart Car in front of me.
I face Nix again, asking, “Well, are we using Joe’s?”
He snickers. “Are you kidding me? No one drives his 1969 Ford Mustang Boss 429. Not even the love of his life can drive it. If Mama had used the Smart Car instead of the Lexus, we’d be in business, but no such luck today.”
My frown deepens. “So, why are we in the garage and not out there…” I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “…where your truck is?”
He pulls a gray cover revealing a contraption I don’t consider a safe form of transportation. “We’re going to ride on this baby right here.”
My jaw drops. “A motorcycle! Whose is that?”
“It’s a Harley, and it’s mine. I leave it here. Nate has a habit of using it without asking. I wanted to take it for a quick spin. Here you go.” He hands me a helmet and then opens a cabinet full of coats, handing me a leather jacket. “That’s Rachel’s. Wear it.”
“I don’t feel safe, riding that.” I point at the offending bike.
“It’s gonna be a short ride to The Fort. So, just relax.”
“It takes less than a few minutes for an accident to happen. Um, I think I’ll just stay.” I take a step back preparing to escape.
“Look”—he blows out a breath and clenches his jaw—“that’s a negative.”
“Well, I’m positive I don’t want to meet my maker just yet!” I hate that my voice screeched in desperation.
“And you have a straight path to heaven. Problem solved.” He cocks his head to the side and raises his brow.
This guy needs some serious prayer, and I need a priest to give me my last rites.
Hesitantly, I put the leather jacket on while he helps me with the helmet. He swings his leg over the bike, straps on his helmet, and knocks on it twice. That’s a strange habit, but his kind of strange is the least of my worries.
Nix motions for me to get on the shiny death trap. “Step right there.” He points at the little foot peg. “Then, put your hand on my shoulder, and swing your leg over.”
I start fidgeting and rubbing my hand over my leg. My mouth instantly dries, and my stomach rolls bigger than tsunami waves. An alarm wails in my head to heed the warning to evacuate immediately.
“I don’t have all day, Grace. Get on.” He flips the visor upward. His honey-browns soften. “Please.” His cordial plea moves me to action. “Wrap your arms around my waist. Whichever way I lean, just copy me. Do you understand?”
I nod stiffly.
“You can speak, Grace. The helmet has a built-in mic.”
I choose to nod again.
Nix revs the engine, and I cling on to him like a monkey.
“Um…can we say a prayer before we go?” I manage to squeak out, even through my super-dry throat.
He groans. “You can pray silently, Grace.”
He revs it one more time, and we zoom down the driveway. I feel my lips move, reciting the prayers I know like the back of my hand, while keeping my eyes tightly shut. When Nix leans to the left or right, I copy him like a pro. Except I squeeze his stomach and clench my legs tighter each time. We continue to play Simon Says for a few minutes until the vibration dies underneath me.
“You can let go now.”
Hearing his husky voice doesn’t force my eyes to open. Instead, I feel like I am falling into a deep trance. He starts to slowly rub my hand. His warm skin brushing against mine pushes me further into a Nix-induced stupor.
“Grace, are you okay?”
He pats my leg, and that does the trick. I jump off the bike like a frog, landing on unsteady feet. I wobble like a drunk with my hands frantically unclipping the helmet, which makes for a good comedy show. My confidence takes a huge hit. I can’t even dismount gracefully.
How old am I again?
I am twenty-five, yet when I am around Nix, I act like a virginal fifteen-year-old.
Because you’re a virgin, Grace, my conscience quickly points out.
Nix helps me with the helmet and steadies me with his hands on my shoulders. I give him two thumbs-up instead of puking the answer out. I manage to walk straight toward the private elevator, but the ride up to the fifty-third floor doesn’t help settle my stomach.
“Nix!” Rachel hits his arm. “You didn’t use Mama’s car?”
“What gave it away?”
She gawks at him and points at me. “Look at her! She looks like she’s about to puke!”
“That’s better than hearing, Our mother glory hole…”
We are standing in the middle of the seating area when Nate walks in, holding a cup of coffee.
“What glory hole are you talking about?” He looks at Rachel and then at Nix with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Nix,” he starts with a singsong tone in his voice, “you didn’t tell me you had a glory hole in your unit. Where is it? In your bedroom?”
“Oh my gosh, Nate! Grace is here!”
Apparently, a glory hole is a reason to get mad, judging by Rachel’s reaction.
“I meant to recite the Our Father and Hail Mary, but the words all got jumbled up in the process. I told Nix riding the motorcycle was a bad idea,” I explain, covering my eyes in humiliation.
Between my fingers, I can see Nate shaking his head at me.
“Sister, you need to do some serious penance. Glory and hole can’t be used in the same sentence. Understand?”
“Holy! I meant to say, holy! Holy…holy Mary!” I mutter under my breath.
He winks at me and then pulls Nix toward Drake’s office, leaving Rachel dumbfounded and me red in embarrassment.
“What is a glory hole?” I ask, confused. While I am ashamed that I just butchered my prayers, my curiosity about a glory hole supersedes it.
“Just drop it, Grace. Rachel, don’t answer that!” Nix yells out.
“I wasn’t gonna,” she answers in a high pitch tone.