Amazed By Her Grace, Book III

By Janet Walker

Third book in the Amazed by her Grace trilogy (Books must be read in order):

In this three-book novel, former Olympic track-and-field gold medalist Grace Gresham-Nelson amazes others with her startling and neat beauty, fierce devotion to rules and order, and ability to remain both popular and famously unknowable at the prestigious, all-girl Beck Academy in Atlanta, where Grace is a nationally successful athletic director.
But when she meets the new student Tracy Sullivan, a gifted basketball player from an area housing project, Grace is so amazed by the teen’s athletic ability that the woman’s famous wall of privacy begins to crumble...leaving woman and teen open to a scandal neither could have foreseen.

(In this third and final book, sexy megachurch minister Charmaine Miller returns to Grace's world...bringing with her a tempest of emotions and a controversy of Olympic proportions.)

Reader, please note: Books 1, 2 and 3 of the Grace series must be read in proper order to follow the story's plot.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janet Walker
• Release date: Dec 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301586646

Janet Walker

Janet Walker, author of the three-book literary novel Amazed by her Grace, the stage play Desire of Ovid's Mother, and the trash-fic novel My Brother's Wife: An Old-School Soap (which she wrote under a pseudonym), walked away from a life of journalism and academic pursuits in order to concentrate on writing and selling her fiction.

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Amazed by her Grace

A novel by Janet Walker

Copyright © 2015 Janet Walker

All rights reserved.

Distributed by Smashwords

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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Note from the Author

Amazed by her Grace is not a series of three free-standing works but is one novel divided into three copyrighted books. I made this unconventional publishing choice because I knew that, as a single work, the novel would be so costly to print and bind that a traditional publisher would have to charge the reader an exorbitant amount just to make a small profit. On top of that, I knew that since I was no Margaret Mitchell, a traditional house would not take a chance on a book of such an unmarketable size coming from an unknown author.

I was not, however, going to abbreviate Grace. It had taken 25 years, on and off, for me to construct the story, and I wanted every word to remain. Therefore, I made the decision to self-publish. However, since cost to the reader was still a concern of mine, I published in e-book form so that I could control the price. That is why the first two books are free. And though it was unnecessary in electronic form, I retained the three-book format to avoid overwhelming the reader with one massive work.

Grace was originally published by Smashwords on December 12, 2012. I selected that publishing date because twelve, a Biblical number, is a crucial number in the story. However, I discovered a few errors after publication and could not rest until I re-published with corrections. (One error, for example, was my use of alright, as one word with one L, instead of the two-word form, all right. Another example: making Tracy Sullivan call a teacher Dandridge, in one part of the book, and Daniels, in another. Chapter seventy-one was ridiculously long, so I moved its ending, Charmaine’s decision, to chapter seventy-two, where I had placed it during an early stage of the creative process and where it should have remained. There were several other small errors that probably went unnoticed by most readers but were significant to me.)

Thus, you have this April 2015 edition, which includes a reader-delight feature that may exist in other novels, but I have not found it: identification of the music that appears in the story and that inspired me as I created certain characters and scenes. These descriptions are found at the end of each book, and I hope they help the reader connect closely with the story. This version of the novel should replace any earlier downloads you may have acquired of the series.

Because Amazed by her Grace is a self-edited work, any remaining errors of fact or grammar are entirely my own. So are any strokes of genius. Enjoy.

—Janet Walker, April 2015

For Friendship. And Llyn.

CONTENTS

Part V: AND THE WALL CAME TUMBLING DOWN

Chapter Fifty-Five: ABORTED TEARS

Chapter Fifty-Six: WHEN SHE JEKYLS, HE HIDES

Chapter Fifty-Seven: NOTE OF WARNING

Chapter Fifty-Eight: BALSAM IN GILEAD

Chapter Fifty-Nine: SOMETIMES, I FEEL…

Chapter Sixty: TOSSED TO THE SHARKS

Chapter Sixty-One: TO CRUSH

Chapter Sixty-Two: BARKING CATS AND CONTORTED FACES

Chapter Sixty-Three: TRESPASS

Chapter Sixty-Four: SAVIOR

Chapter Sixty-Five: ATHENA AND APHRODITE

Chapter Sixty-Six: BREATHLESS

Part VI: REBUILT

Chapter Sixty-Seven: YOU WILL KNOW THE TRUTH

Chapter Sixty-Eight: KISSED BY AN ANGEL

Chapter Sixty-Nine: SISTERLOVE

Chapter Seventy: MOTHERLOVE

Chapter Seventy-One: NO MAN HAS LOVE GREATER THAN THIS

Chapter Seventy-Two: THE DECISION

Music in Amazed by her Grace

Part V

AND THE WALL CAME TUMBLING DOWN

Chapter Fifty-Five

ABORTED TEARS

Monday through Thursday, week one.

By the end of the first week back from Christmas vacation, it was the thing most talked about in the halls and classrooms of Beck Academy: Miz Grace had returned from the three-week break a changed woman. Not completely changed, you understand, but considerably so. Although historically grim and distant, by the time she had departed in December the intriguing administrator had softened and become more approachable—even, to a limited degree, playful. So the students were surprised, and many disappointed, when they returned in January to find that the Former Miz Grace had come back. And, truthfully, the woman who returned was worse than the former, for at least the old Miz Grace was focused and purposeful, and spoke courteously, if concisely. This newest version of the woman seemed preoccupied, staring absently into space even when it seemed she was looking at a person, and spoke tersely, if at all.

The students speculated about the reason for the change. Some thought it signified trouble in the Jazz Nelson marriage—although even these speculators admitted it seemed unlikely, what with Jazz Nelson being so in love with his wife and the two forming such a beautiful couple. Others thought that perhaps she had gotten bad news about her health—had learned, over the holidays, that she was dying and so maybe someone should gather the courage to talk to her and find out. Still others knew that the problem likely had something to do with basketball. The Grace Girls had humiliated Miz Grace during the first half of the Beck-Haines game in the Christmas tournament, so maybe she was still fuming about that. Still others declared it had nothing to do with the whole team, just with Tracy Sullivan. After all, everyone had attributed the positive changes in the woman’s disposition to the talented rookie, who was likely going to secure another championship for the school. And since everyone knew how much winning meant to Miz Grace, having Tracy on the team had to be, they surmised, the reason a new and friendlier Miz Grace had emerged before the holidays. Therefore, the sudden reversal in her disposition must also have something to do with Tracy.

The basketball girls had their own ideas. While Pat Butler merely wondered aloud why Miz Grace was ackin’ stank, Toni Christian suggested it had something to do with the Christmas Eve party—that perhaps someone among them had damaged Miz Grace’s property, or stolen something, and so the woman was angry that she had let them into her home. Evelyn Dent disagreed, saying that Miz Grace wasn’t mad at nobody—she just ack like dat sometime. Her explanation was rejected—it wasn’t exciting enough—and so Wanda Carver declared she knew why Miz Grace was upset, but she wasn’t telling because it was a secret. No one believed her. Vanessa Willis wondered if Miz Grace had been offended because Tracy had not come to the party. Sandra Butler, who planned to study psychology in college, concluded that all of them were wrong. Miz Grace’s mood change, she told them, had nothing to do with Tracy; her disposition did not change until Charmaine Miller came to the mansion. "Notice how she acted when she came downstairs? She tried to put on, but I could tell: She was not happy to see that woman. Others contested this notion, but Sandra was adamant. And notice, Sandra reminded them, how she excused herself from the party not long after the reverend left, saying she didn’t feel well. It’s got something to do with Charmaine Miller," Sandra insisted.

The team initially thought that if anyone knew what was going on with Miz Grace, it would be Tracy. But questioning the shy rookie only frustrated them, for the girl insisted that she, too, did not know what was wrong with Miz Grace. However, they were not convinced she was telling the truth, for all week long, Tracy had also been a different person—quieter, sadder, it seemed. So Sandra added a second hypothesis to her speculation: Miz Grace’s moodiness was caused either by Charmaine Miller or Tracy Sullivan—that was the who. The how, why and what remained a mystery, although a clue emerged on Thursday afternoon, during basketball practice, when the Girls saw their star teammate and oddly behaving coach hold a private, softly spoken but obviously emotional disagreement courtside at the woman’s table-desk. In that moment, the weeklong speculating seemed to vindicate Sandra Butler and the others who believed that Miz Grace’s new reclusive behavior did, indeed, have something to do with her unusual friendship with Tracy Sullivan.

* * *

Between homeroom and first period on Monday morning, Tracy stepped into the lobby of the Gresham-Nelson Sports and Wellness Center, took in the smells of rubber and wax, and sighed with deep contentment. It had been three weeks since she had been inside the beloved building. Three weeks since she had been with Miz Grace. And now that the holiday vacation was past, Tracy was eager to see her favorite teacher. And eager to find out why Miz Grace had not returned any of the phone calls Tracy had made to her during the second half of the holiday. That part was puzzling, and would have been deeply hurtful, but Tracy had aborted the hurt by grasping onto the belief that Miz Grace had gone out of town—probably some place, last minute, with Jazz Nelson—and had accidentally left Aunt Madge’s phone number at home. That had to be the case, for why else wouldn’t she have called?

The secretary in the athletic-department front office said that Miz Grace was upstairs in her office, yes, but she did not think the director wanted to be disturbed. Tracy had smirked at the warning. Surely it didn’t apply to her—didn’t this lady know that? Tracy strode across the gym floor and looked up at the large gray-glass window. Miz Grace was behind it, she knew it, and was probably watching and smiling. Tracy’s heart thudded and she restrained herself from running to the other side of the building.

In moments she was there, knocking on the familiar door, heart pounding.

The door opened and there she stood, the same beautiful face, impeccable makeup, wavy streaked hair, wearing tweed slacks and a silk orange shirt with large cuffs. Street clothes, not sports attire, which struck Tracy as strange.

"Where you been?" the teen accused.

Miz Grace smiled gently, but Tracy immediately noticed that the woman did not seem overjoyed to see her. Something in Tracy’s stomach quivered unpleasantly.

I thought it would be you. Hi.

Hey, the teen said. "Where you been? I called your house over the break."

I know.

The teen waited, but when the woman remained silent, the youth blurted, "Why didn’t you pick up?"

Miz Grace hesitated. The holidays didn’t turn out to be…what I expected.

The answer did not satisfy the teen—there was something missing in it—but Tracy did not know how to ask for clarification.

Shouldn’t you be in class? the woman suggested.

"Yeah, but I wanted to see you."

Miz Grace glanced right and left down the empty corridor and then again at the teen. Again, a faint smile. Won’t you get in trouble for being late?

I can just say I didn’t know where my class was. You know it’s a new semester, the teen said.

The woman nodded, assessing the adolescent scheme.

Tracy was touched by confusion—and the beginning of dread. Because something was wrong. Something was different. Was it happening? Was the thing she had feared ever since Miz Grace became her friend finally happening? Had the woman decided that, after all, she did not want to be friends with a poor girl from the projects? It did not escape Tracy’s notice that Miz Grace was not stepping out of the doorway to invite her into the office, which was dark behind her.

Um—the teen was breathless—c-can I come in?

The woman hesitated, her eyes gentle. Why don’t we talk later? Downstairs. Before practice.

The quivering in Tracy’s belly became a mass of trembling hurt that swelled up to her throat and rendered her speechless.

Tracy? Okay?

The teen averted her eyes, her cheeks warm. Kay, she managed to answer, then hesitated as if stunned, and then smiled briefly at the woman before moving down the hall. Behind her, she heard the voice.

Thanks for stopping by, Sullivan.

The girl nodded an okay but did not look back—her eyes were wet—and quickly headed for the stairwell.

They would not speak face-to-face again until three days later.

By then, Tracy had gone through the week stunned and wounded, for in addition to the brush-off Miz Grace had given her on Monday morning, the woman was not at her table-desk each day before basketball practice got underway. Instead, she emerged only after Tabitha had ordered the team to begin running. And she left the floor and returned to her office before practice ended, leaving the wrap-up to her assistants, which made it impossible for Tracy to get time alone with the woman. By the end of the second day of this behavior, Tracy concluded one thing: Miz Grace was avoiding her. And for this reason, Tracy thought, with the numbing disbelief of one whose heart is broken for the first time, that the woman had pondered their relationship over the holidays and concluded that, after all, she did not like or love Tracy Sullivan. And so Tracy walked through the week in a daze, leaden and disappointed and constantly in need of crying, but never able to draw up the water to do so, the hurt being so thick it dammed her well of tears.

But now, on Thursday afternoon, as the team jogged during practice, accompanied by upbeat R&B music from the assistants’ boom box, Tracy was determined to make the woman speak to her. Determined, as she had been determined to defy Diane Sullivan the last time Mama demanded she go to the store. Tracy borrowed the courage it had taken to perform that act of defiance and used it now. She broke away from the running players, ignoring Coach Tab’s displeased stare, and strode up to Miz Grace’s table-desk after the start of practice. As she had done all week, Miz Grace wore street clothes. This day, it was sharp gray slacks and a black tailored shirtwaist, and she did not look up at Tracy when the girl stood before her but busied herself with the clipboard and paperwork on the table.

Why are you not running, Sullivan?

Tracy hesitated, watching the woman she had thought was her friend. Miz Grace was, indeed, different—not the woman Tracy had spent four glorious weekends with at the end of the year. Not the affectionate big-sister Grace, who smiled at Tracy in the Family Lounge because they shared a secret, or playfully teased her at the mansion as they exercised, or gravely warned her about sex and boys. She was not even Miz Grace the Coach—because at least the coach let amusement show in her eyes, or fired off a dry funny remark to someone during practice. No, this lady—this beautiful woman dressed stylishly in gray pants and a man’s shirt and a silver woman’s bracelet—this stranger—was not anybody Tracy knew. The new Miz Grace did not even have the decency, the girl noted, to look at her as they spoke. And so Tracy concluded she did not like the new woman. Did not like her deeply.

Why you trippin’?

Grace kept her eyes averted. What do you mean?

You acting different. Everybody sees it.

I just have a lot on my mind, Tracy.

The teen watched the woman. You mad at me?

The woman glanced at the girl, almost smiled. No.

You don’t want to be my friend no more?

The woman looked directly at the girl. Something about her features softened. Is that what you think? No, honey, that’s not it. It’s got nothing to do with you.

Tracy hesitated. They looked at each other deeply for the first time since their conversation at the office door three days earlier. Around them, a Janet Jackson song danced through the air.

So…we’re cool? the teen asked. Like we used to be?

The woman hesitated, and for a second Tracy thought she saw the kind Miz Grace, the in-love-with-her Miz Grace. The woman sighed.

"I don’t want to stop being your friend, Tracy. But…I think maybe your aunt was right. Maybe it’s not such a good idea…for you and I to spend time together outside of school."

Tracy’s lips parted in astonishment. You throwing me away, Miz Grace? she asked incredulously.

No, not at all, the woman answered earnestly. I care about you. That’s why I think this is the right thing to do.

Why? demanded the teen. "You heard my aunt—she don’t care! Remember? She said it was ah’right—she didn’t want me to wear out my welcome with you, that’s the only reason her and my mama said I couldn’t spend the night. Remember? But she don’t care if I go home with you! She said that. You remember," she prodded. The teen paused and looked at the woman pleadingly. The woman sighed softly and stared at the tabletop.

"Please, Miz Grace. Don’t make me stop being your friend." On the last sentence, the girls’ voice quavered—a suppressed sob.

Grace touched her forehead, eyes still lowered, and then looked up at the girl. Her eyes were moist and pink. Tracy, was all she could manage to say.

"No, Miz Grace, I don’t wanna hear that! You told me we were friends, that you were gonna help me get to college and all that."

"And I am, Tracy. Nothing’s changed about that. I am still your coach and we are still friends. It’s just that…it’s against school policy for a teacher and student to socialize off campus. I broke the rule because I enjoyed being with you. But even in the short time that we were together, you saw what happened with your teammates, which is why I had to invite them to my home. And I’m still not sure I’ve squashed all their jealousy."

You told my aunt you would be my friend!

"And I meant that, Tracy. It’s just that… The woman sighed, looked as if she might make a plea, but instead coolly explained, I’m a coach, Sullivan. But I haven’t been acting like one. And if I am going to help you get to college, I’ve got to go back to doing things the way I used to."

Tracy Sullivan stared at the woman and stood very still. Momentarily, her pretty brown eyes glistened and the tip of her nose grew red.

The sight affected Grace. Don’t cry, baby, she said hoarsely. She glanced around the gym to see if anyone were watching them. Or you’re going to make me cry.

The girl lifted a palm to her cheek and swiped.

Tracy, listen to me.

The girl wiped again, lowered her hand, obeyed.

I would never want your association with me to be a cause for pain…for you. And if it looks like it could be, then as your friend and someone who loves you, I’m obligated to protect you from getting hurt.

The girl sniffled. I dunno what that mean, she admitted.

I know, baby. Just believe that I make this decision for your own good.

The girl wiped a cheek. So, she said hoarsely, I can’t come to your house no more?

Grace’s expression was apologetic. No.

The girl covered her eyes with a hand. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks. And your office?

The woman sighed and blinked back her own tears. No.

They stood for a moment without speaking.

I’m sorry, Tracy.

Tracy Sullivan stopped crying, wiped her cheeks a final time, and looked at the teacher with a new spirit, one ignited by impudence. That’s ah’right, she said bitterly. It’s not the first time somebody didn’t want me.

Oh, Tracy, that’s not what this is— Grace began earnestly.

The girl walked away, but not to rejoin her teammates. Instead, she did the unthinkable: She walked out of a practice session conducted by Miz Grace.

Grace glanced around to see if she and Tracy had drawn an audience. The others in the gym pretended not to notice what had taken place.

Chapter Fifty-Six

WHEN SHE JEKYLS, HE HIDES

Saturday night, week one.

Darrel paused in the hallway outside the dining room. Through the decorative panes of the glass wall he saw his wife, sitting at the table, quietly eating dinner. Her movements were carefully placed deliberate motions of the hand, head and mouth. One hand rested in her lap, according to the rules of etiquette. With the other, she slipped the fork between her lips, blotted the corners of her mouth, and lifted the tumbler of sparkling water for a sip, her head inclined gently. Darrel softened at the sight—only a woman like Grace would eat, when alone, as if she were dining with royalty. But then he read the grim fix of her mouth and the softening in him hardened. She was still in that damn mood. Despite this, he used his knuckles to rap twice, slowly, on a pane, to get her attention and let her see that it was he, and not an intruder, she must have heard enter the home. She raised her eyes and looked at him, did not alter the expression on her face, and looked again at her plate.

Darrel sighed, pulled away from the glass, and went to the basement. There, he did something he rarely did during the season: poured himself a drink. Two shots of Remy Martin, his brother Dave’s favorite. The cognac stung his tongue but quickly became a soothing heat in his gullet. Most of the basement lay in darkness at the moment, and Darrel decided he liked it that way. He used the remote control to turn on the stereo system, and with the jazzy sounds of Thelonious Monk filling the air around him, he sat back on the room’s central sofa, drink in hand, and pondered Grace.

This was the same mood she had been in for the past two weeks, the mood that had descended upon her the day Charmaine Miller visited Gracewood. He had asked her about the visit—about why Charmaine had come and why she had left so abruptly. He suspected Grace had run the woman away, but he was not certain, for Grace had made it clear she did not want to discuss Charmaine Miller—at all. And so since Christmas, Darrel had been annoyed by a lack of knowledge. He had especially found it annoying that Grace had never told him she knew the evangelist or had been college roommates with the woman. He had walked in on her a few times, watching Charmaine’s program on TV, and still Grace had never indicated that she knew the minister. Such a simple fact—how immature of her to keep it from him. And then there was the other question, one he knew had probably entered the minds of the shrewdest observers at the party: Why was Grace not happy to see Pastor Miller? True, she did not love invited guests, much less unexpected ones, but her dislike should not have extended to Charmaine—first, because of who the minister was, and secondly because the women had obviously been close friends at one time. So Grace’s coolness toward her ex-girlfriend had to be the result of something else—something, of course, she was not sharing with him. Darrel sighed. Grace and her damn secrets. He hated that quality of hers. But he hadn’t always hated it. In fact, it had once been part of her allure.

When they were dating, Grace’s mysteriousness, even the unpredictability of her moods, had charmed Darrel. He himself had always been so open, so gregarious and honest and abjectly happy with himself and with life, that he was intrigued by someone who didn’t seem to need the association or approval of anyone else in order to feel good about herself. Besides, he was twenty-five when they met—she, twenty-nine, a sexy older woman—and so he assumed that her guarded manner was part and parcel of dating maturity. She became, for him, the utmost challenge, a test of his restraint and patience, for she forced him to wait for everything: for time spent with her, for bits of knowledge about her personal life, and for any type of physical affection. In the beginning, she would allow only a kiss on the cheek. Two months and eight dates later, she granted him, finally, a kiss on the lips—which turned into a brisk slap on the face when he tried to turn it into a tongue-probing, hand-traveling experience. After that, they did not speak for seven days because she refused to answer when he called—and he called every day, several times a day. He would have given up, too, he was sure, if she had been any other woman. But she wasn’t any other woman—not by a stretch. She was Grace, and from the moment he had seen her in person, he knew he wanted her as his wife.

When they first encountered each other, he was a second-season rookie, hotshot and good-looking and rich, and so there was no dearth of beautiful women approaching him, offering sex. In the beginning of his NBA career, he had stood his ground—had rededicated himself to Christ while in college and took his commitment seriously. But after he turned pro, his resistance wore thin—there were so many women, after all, so many beautiful women of all races, clamoring for him wherever he went but especially after games, that he finally succumbed to the temptation. It damaged his relationship with his girlfriend, Kimiko, a Japanese-American who loved him enough to forgive his first infidelity. After the second, he again confessed to her what he had done and was so pierced by the hurt he saw in her eyes that he broke up with her. He would rather live without her, he said, than live with her and cause pain. But there was another reason he left Kimiko. He realized he could not be happy with her as his wife—their cultural differences had become increasingly clear during their two-year relationship. Following the break with Kimiko, he wallowed in eighteen months of overindulgence in sex before returning to his former state and re-committing his life to Christ. He dove deeply again into the scriptures and church attendance, sanctified his body and dedicated it to celibacy, vowing to adhere until he could engage in divinely approved sex. It was the life he had first embraced as a child, that of the serious Bible student who wanted also to be the consummate athlete and dedicated musician—who avoided, with the zeal of Joseph, any behavior he thought would displease God.

Six months into his re-gained faith, he met Grace.

He would tell anyone who later asked that he was most impressed by the fact that she, too, even without a professed relationship with Christ, was sworn to the idea of chastity simply because it was the right thing to do. But the truth was that he was most impressed by her physical beauty. On first sight of her, he felt struck by her appearance—shaken. He marveled at the petite frame of toned muscles, especially the perfectly formed behind, whose firm rounded shape, after Kimiko’s flat buttocks, made him weak with desire whenever he watched Grace walk away. He loved her soft mane of hair and brown skin, the clearest complexion he had ever seen on anyone and the possession of which he attributed to Grace’s dietary and exercise habits—she still behaved like an athlete in training, possessing a willpower even he didn’t have. And she had unusual, pretty, dark eyes and the fiercest stare he had ever seen, a stare that challenged anyone who received it. A stare that said, "Yes, I’m incredible and I know it. Do you?" He had loved it. In the beginning, the stare burned a hole through him, titillating him with passion and infusing him with energy each time she leveled it at him. He began to need her stare, to long for it—which is why, even after five years of knowing her, he became disconcerted whenever she would not look at him.

Like now. For the past three weeks, she was distracted and gazing and did not meet eyes with him whenever they encountered each other in the mansion. Without the eye contact, he did not know how