According to Grace

By Luigi Kleinsasser

This story is based on real events communicated to a massage therapist during a sequence of treatment sessions. By following subsequent news reports and talking to some of the other people actually involved, the story has been completed, but basically, it’s all “According to Grace”.
An ex-military member takes the rap for black-market activities so his senior officers get off scot-free but when the guilty parties don't keep their promises they're hunted down and brought to justice.
An extraordinary tale of how the government manipulates its citizens and usurps the concept of "government of the people, for the people, by the people."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Apr 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781387723119

Book preview

According to Grace

According to Grace

All Rights Reserved

Copyright © 2018 - Luigi Kleinsasser

ISBN: 978-1-387-72311-9

DISCLAIMER AND/OR LEGAL NOTICE

This story is based on real events communicated to a massage therapist during a sequence of treatment sessions. By following subsequent news reports and talking to some of the other people actually involved, the story has been completed, but basically, it’s all According to Grace.

Naturally, the names of the participants and locations have been changed, so, the characters and locations in this novel should be considered fictional and have no relation to actual persons, living or dead.

This copy is intended for the use of the original purchaser only.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form

whatsoever without the express, written permission of the author − Luigi Kleinsasser: [e-mail]

CHAPTER ONE

Grace Tomersley, how do you plead?

Grace couldn’t believe her ears as those words rang out in the court room and echoed throughout the building. She’d known Old Walter, the Judge for as long as she could remember. She’d even served on a jury under his direction and now, to hear him ask her that question – unbelievable!

In a daze, she ignored the Judge’s question as she tried to make sense of what was happening. How had it come to this? She’d been denied bail and had been in the County jail’s holding cells for almost two weeks, forcibly sedated most of the time. It took that long for the Prosecutor to compile enough evidence to arraign her for arson and right now, she could barely even remember the night when everything seemed to fall apart.

She tried to direct her mind back to that last day of Gracie’s Diner. It had been almost closing time and she’d just removed the tray of clean cutlery from the dish-washer for sorting. The tray had slipped from her hands, seemingly in slow motion. It was almost as though she saw it happen before the actual event but lacked the will or the power to prevent it.

Was it déjà vu or a mindless premonition?

One corner of the tray had hit the sorting table causing the forks to fly in all directions. Heavy handles leading the way, the knives slithered towards the floor arriving an instant before the spoons. The metallic splattering and chattering of the forks as they reached the floor momentarily preceded the stainless-steel tray’s resonant clang as it landed on its edge then noisily rocked itself to rest.

She recalled the total silence in the moment that followed as she stood dumbstruck, jaw hanging open, eyes wide in disbelief.

She remembered cursing her clumsiness in a loud whisper as she stooped to gather up the utensils. It was only then she realized that her head was throbbing at the temples. She remembered the anger and the urge to hurl everything at the nearest wall, preferably with a breakable window, but she simply did not have the energy.

Sharp, aching stabs darted uncomfortably deep inside her skull in perfect cadence with her pounding heart. She moaned as she dismissed the pain, filled the tray and carried the errant silverware back to the washing station. There just wasn’t enough time for this. There was never enough time.

* * * * *

Have you ever had one of those headaches that linger? 

By itself, not so serious but whenever there wasn’t a distraction of some sort, there it was – that throb – right up behind your eyeballs. And your feet burned and your low back ached? Has your body ever hurt so much you doubted you’d make it through the rest of the day? You know, you really wish you could trade your body for somebody else’s?

Anybody else’s!

Well, on top of the pain that late autumn Sunday evening, Grace sensed the whole world was closing in on her and the pressure was becoming unbearable. But she’d pushed on. She’d been on her feet since 5:00 a.m., barely stopping for a cup of coffee and a quick but unproductive sit in the bathroom (which only lasted five minutes) before the staff began hollering for her from the kitchen. The rest of the day was a blur.

She did remember stuffing the cutlery back into the dishwasher then sat, hunched over the table, head in her hands, barely breathing, listening to the hum of the machine as it sprayed boiling water over the now twice-washed tableware.

At that exact moment, she couldn’t decide which hurt most – her head or her back, but then, both legs throbbed as if she’d just run the first-ever Marathon to deliver the victorious news about that ancient, historic battle. The difference was that she had no good news!

But wasn’t there a messenger who was killed by his Monarch because he delivered bad news? Grace’s ‘bad news’ was the accumulation of bills for the operating expenses for the restaurant; her battle – finding time to keep up with the paperwork!

She’d groaned, then mumbled, I guess they only kill you when y’got bad news for somebody else. Jeez, I wish someone’d put me out of my misery right now! Damned restaurant! As her head dropped into her arms which were folded onto the table, she sank deeper into her misery, a myriad of thoughts flashing through her mind, none of which could she grasp.

Life had become an unpleasant whirl! How had it happened? She was physically exhausted, emotionally drained and worn out to the point where absolutely nothing seemed worthwhile any more. How much longer could she go on? Her body yearned to stretch out. Anywhere! On the floor; across the table; her mind was directing her to lie down but her body was throbbing as it tried to numb the pain. The woman simply could not move.

As the numbness progressed throughout her body Grace lost gravitational perspective. There was no longer any downward or inward pressure, only a feeling of light restraint. Her body could just as well have been floating in the heavens amidst a billowing cotton-puff cloud. She drifted to a peaceful, faraway place and was momentarily content, but before too long heard a voice gently whispering her name and then the pain returned.

She tried to free herself from the crushing pressure of her body which she imagined was the inwards swirling of the cloud that restrained her.

At first, the sound had been faint, a gentle summons only slightly intruding on her solitude. Surely there couldn’t be anything so important as to really need her attention, so she slumped forward lazily. But the voice beckoned again, almost pleadingly. Desperately she struggled to extricate herself from the stupor, or at least answer, but she simply could not respond. The voice called more urgently and as her brain began to focus, she managed to raise her head and jerked upright as she snapped back to reality.

Hey, Gracie! Whatsa matter you?! You donna looka so good, eh. Luigi the kitchen supervisor had poked his head around the door, wiping his greasy hands on his checkered pants. He’d quietly crossed the floor and hovered over Grace wondering what he should do. He’d never seen his boss sitting in the staff-room, let alone looking like a whipped puppy. In fact, nobody ever really got to spend much time in the staff room! After all, she was the one who bounced in, delivered the pep talk, got everybody fired up and then kept the customers happy.

Hey, Gracie, canna I getta you somethin’, eh?

Grace struggled groggily to get to her feet, Jeez, no, Lui. I’ll be O.K. Slowly she eased herself out of the chair. Just get your section cleaned up and let’s get the hell out of here.

She had good staff covering two shifts each day, but Grace had managed the diner single-handedly since her husband, Ed, fell into a state of deep depression as a result of his military service in Vietnam. 

When Ed and Grace opened the roadside diner a few years after they were married, they were nicknamed The Dynamic Duo and had built it into a great business. But then Ed’s depression took over. For the husband and wife team, the restaurant had been an enjoyable venture. Exciting for Grace, fun for Ed. She ran the restaurant, hired and trained the staff and wrote the menu – Ed did the deals, located supplies and was working on setting up a chain of Gracie’s Diner franchises.

They shared everything else. They had a steady stream of regulars and any casual trade simply put the icing on the cake, so to speak. Now, even without her husband’s help and the franchise concept on hold, business was still good, but the effects of the long hours were surfacing. It just seemed that if she wasn’t there, the place simply wasn’t as clean or as productive as it should have been. So, she worked whatever hours were necessary to keep the business profitable, but her home life was definitely suffering.

She’d needed to borrow a substantial sum from the bank to replace old, worn out equipment and now, the physical demands of the long hours combined with the stress of managing the finances, worrying about a sick, non-contributing, house-bound husband and trying to raise three daughters, had finally taken its toll.

Her mind snapped back to that fateful night. She could see herself pushing her chair away from the table, right into the path of Mandy, the head waitress who was juggling a tray loaded with ice-cream containers.

Look out now! Mandy had chimed as she sidestepped with some shifty-nifty footwork. Look out now! was Mandy’s trade-mark expression. In most cases, she never actually meant look out as she used the phrase meaninglessly in moments of disbelief and pleasure but also as a prelude to cursing.

She was nicely put together, had dishwater grey eyes which went well with her grey-streaked blonde hair which was usually worn in a pony tail. She had one of those personalities which earned her generous tips from the Diner’s patrons. She’d asked, So, what’s up, Gracie? The Lizard says you’re burnt out! Look out now or you won’t make it through the week!

Damn restaurant! Grace moaned as she pulled open the door to the cold room. Pass me those ice-cream containers and I’ll stack them up in the freezer for you.

Mandy unloaded the tray she’d been carrying and started passing the dripping containers to Grace who ferried them into the freezer. So, how’s Ed, Gracie? Is he doing any better? Mandy hadn’t looked at Grace as she posed the question – she knew his condition wasn’t improving.

Jeez. His damn malaria’s flaring up again. I haven’t slept all week and I think I’m getting about as depressed as he is. Jeez! All he does is lay about the house and whine.

Look out now! Did you take him off his anti-depressants?

Jeez, no! With them he’s impossible, without them, God help us! I’m sure he’s the cause of my headache. But then, the girls are no help either!

Grace’s spouse, Ed, had been a great guy, a loving husband and devoted father of their three daughters, but he’d become a slob. Virtually booted out of the armed forces after Vietnam for alleged petty racketeering, but he somehow managed to keep a hold of his military medical benefits. He’d let slip a few times how he had the goods on some senior officers and they’d better not mess with his benefits and apparently that had the desired effect.

He’d contracted malaria during his military service overseas and several years after marrying Grace, he’d suffered a serious recurrence. He spent a couple of weeks in the V.A. Hospital but hadn’t worked a day since his discharge from that facility.

On the few days when he was relatively lucid, he tended to whine pretty much about everything and anything, but particularly about the restaurant not making enough money. He seemed to be in a fog most of the time and for more than ten years he’d never lifted a finger to help. The girls were their three daughters, Angie sixteen, a problem teen and the twelve-year-old twins Regina and Roxanne. Regina was the dominant one but otherwise they were fairly normal, noisy, demanding kids.

They’d bought a comfortable home after the twins were born, but as with any dwelling, there always seemed to be something that needed repairs. If it wasn’t the water softener, it was a light switch. Or the garbage disposal clogged up or a skylight started to leak when the south wind drove rain from that quarter! And Ed was of no use.

No wonder Grace was depressed! After all was said and done, she was a family person, a home-maker, a mother and it seemed that all of that had been tossed aside like chaff into the wind. Now, her only family was the restaurant, it’s patrons and her staff.

She’d thought long and hard about her actual family and the non-relationship they’d slipped into. When Angie was born, Grace took her to work most days unless Ed had her and then when the twins came along the three girls were fixtures at the Diner until Angie started school. It was about that time that Ed had succumbed to the ravages of his malaria and for a while, the twins were placed in daycare. And there never seemed to be enough time to do anything as a family.

When Grace was a child, her mother knew exactly where both her children were every minute of the day. And it was as though she could read their minds! If she asked you a question, you knew it was rhetorical. She already knew the answer and she was just keeping you honest! She was a real mother.

Of course, way back then, a man could keep a family on his wages alone; his wife could be a mother to her children; he was the authority figure, she dealt out the kisses and kids knew which end was up. They never questioned the fact that they were the kids. They had no opinion; they didn’t make the rules; they answered to authority. They didn’t talk back; they didn’t pout when they were told ‘NO!’, and if they ever did manage to put a fast one over on their parents, they lived in fear of being found out!

They were seen and not heard unless they were out in the yard playing!

In those days there was no differentiation between ‘quality’ time and ‘quantity’ time. Parents simply spent as much time as possible with their families and everybody enjoyed each other’s company. But then the pressures of modern living crept in, at first innocuously enough with promises of a fuller life, but to avail oneself of those ‘riches’, one had to barter time – quantity time and quality time.

Family time!

Grace was painfully aware that her family was no longer a family; their lives were no longer theirs; they were simply five individuals who shared a house. Who was working for whom? She perceived a problem without a solution.

Oh, for the good old days!

But then she recalled that after Mandy had asked about Ed, Lui the Lizard had slithered silently across the room, winked at Mandy and piped in with, Hey, whats-a matter you? You no got-ta Ed on-na the job-a, eh?

Chuckling she’d thrown her wet bussing towel at him and snapped back, Jeez, give me a break, Lui. Ed hasn’t been on the job for years. And even if he was, I don’t particularly feel much like foolin’ round these days anyhow. She’d paused, motionless while her brain tried to catch up, then she remembered thinking, "Jeez! Y’know, I just wish you’d spill some burning fat all over the place and poof! I’m outa here like a shot out of a gun! I need a break! I need my life back."

Well, she thought she’d thought it but she must have actually said it because Lui had complained, Hey, that’s-a no much good, Gracie. Then none of us, we all no got-ta no jobs, eh!

Jeez yeah. I know, she’d smiled, "Can’t think what else I’d do anyhow. Well then, I guess we all got a livin’ as long as you don’t burn the place down! She punched him on the shoulder and with a wry grin, mockingly added, Eh?"

It always took a couple of hours after the last customer left before the night staff could leave for home. The place had to be spotless so the breakfast crew could fire up the coffee pot and be ready for action the minute the first trucker walked through the door. Truckers would lay over for the night, just to eat breakfast at Grace’s Diner. And Grace couldn’t stand the thought of having to scrape down the griddle the minute she arrived at six a.m.!

They’d finished the cleanup, locked the doors and headed for home – Grace to the family bungalow on the other side of town, Mandy to her apartment a few blocks over and Lui to his trailer in the mobile-home park across the road from the restaurant.

* * * * *

Grace recalled driving into the garage, barely squeezing her vehicle between the boxes and piles of wood and tools from projects Ed had begun on his better days but had never managed to finish.

She carried her paperwork through the kitchen into the living room then started to attack the piles of dirty dishes, loading the dishwasher as she moved around the house, legitimately mumbling and moaning about the mess and jumble that confronted her.

Ed’s pile of debris, left over from his gluttonous daily indulgences, surrounded his recliner in the living room where he dozed and snacked, sipped a few beers and mindlessly watched television all day. The only time he left that chair was to go to the bathroom or to bed. Grace swore that if someone ever invented an easy chair with a pipe to the bathroom, Ed would buy one! The girls had distributed their dirty cups, glasses, soda bottles, empty pizza boxes and bowls with spoons stuck to congealed ice-cream pretty much throughout the house – everywhere except in the kitchen.

She’d shrugged and muttered, Jeez! I’m just gonna have to get onto those kids. There’s not one square foot of clear space to lay out my papers! As she loaded the last of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and flicked the switch, she hissed, Jeez! The least they could do is load this damn thing and turn it on! Damn Ed, too!

The restaurant just didn’t have sufficient space for a real office and even if it did, it was highly unlikely that Grace would ever get to spend much time in there. Public relations were her forté; home was where the paperwork got done, or not.

She couldn’t remember when she’d been in bed before midnight and the thought of still being there after sunrise never crossed her mind. She had to be at the Diner to open for the breakfast shift and despite her good intentions to take a few hours off during the day, she never did. Grace even considered staying open twenty-four hours a day for the trucker trade, but, until she could find a reliable grave-yard shift manager, that proposition had to be placed on the back-burner.

Grace had definitely been sleep-deprived but didn’t know it. She was suffering from accumulated stress but was too weary to recognize it. She cared for the multitudes but nobody cared for her. As a mother, she’d had little enough time to devote to the daughters she loved and she certainly had no time for herself.

Aha! But then she suddenly recalled making a cup of tea. Green tea. Mandy had turned her on to the stuff. Said it could help Ed. She should get Ed to drink it, but he was ‘coffee black as pitch and twice as thick’ or nothing. Well, she’d drink it anyway and maybe he’d come ‘round in time. She remembered Letterman was just getting wound up. She’d needed a good laugh, not that he was all that funny. The band was good though.

When she’d sensed her eyelids growing heavy and she’d caught herself nodding off she remembered curling up on the love seat. When the phone rang, she’d picked it up groggily, glanced