Free Healing Grace by Lisa J. Lickel Page A

for you at the stores,” she finally said and abruptly went inside the house.
    Ted watched her go, surprised and hurt. “What did I say?” he asked out loud. Grumpy, he struggled to his feet. “Eddy! Time to go home.”
    * * * *
    Grace worked out a flexible routine with the Marshalls for Eddy’s care when school began. It left her more hours to herself, something she was not looking forward to. Volunteer positions were limited, and with a natural cut in salary, working the gas station cash register was looking like her next job. She shivered at the thought.
    Ted gave her an appointment calendar with his therapy and client appointments. But his next question left her unsettled.
    “All right if he shows up in the mornings sometimes to wait for the bus here?” he asked.
    “Do you want me to come and walk him over here?” Shows up and five-year-old waiting for a bus didn’t seem like a great sentence combo to her. What did he mean?
    He alternately flushed and paled. “It’s just that… I’m pretty uncoordinated in the morning. When Randy’s not there it takes me a while to start moving.” Ted frowned and looked away. He folded his arms defensively over his chest. “I don’t want Eddy to see,” he mumbled.
    “Ted…” She’d never told him about her work in Tennessee. Then again, he’d never asked, not like Shelby, who’d earned a very cautious and innocuous reply about her former job. Which no longer hurt to think about. “It won’t be every day.”
    Men and their pride. “He’ll need a good breakfast.” He wouldn’t meet her eye. “Maybe he should stay here once in a while when Randy is gone, too.” Short of moving in, what else could she offer without demoralizing the man?
    “Maybe.” He shuffled away. “Thanks,” he called over his shoulder.
    At some point she should find out more about Ted’s illness, but the days passed and she let it go. Eddy dressed himself in the mornings before the bus came. Occasionally he would come and have breakfast with Grace, but more often he told her he wanted to stay close to his dad. The little guy eventually stayed with her after school to “help” when she needed it. They had dinner together, giving her an excuse to experiment with cooking. Really, she was so glad not to be alone every night. When Ted felt up to it he joined them. Not quite a family but more than simple babysitting. The numbness she’d wrapped around her heart had more than half melted. She no longer stomped on the little bits of love that occasionally escaped in the form of forehead kisses and hugs. Eddy would never replace what she’d lost, but maybe she could make up for what had happened by paying forward a little of her gift. As long as they didn’t know what she could do, and neither of had expectations she was certain she would fail, maybe caring about all of them some would be all right.
    The last Saturday in October was chilly. She leaned on her rake in the yard to watch the child whirl among the rain of tie-dyed sunset and old hay-bale-colored leaves fluttering to the lawn. Loving Eddy didn’t make up for what she’d done, of course, but perhaps if she was good and kind and obedient God would forgive her, though she’d never forgive herself. Of that, she was unworthy. She could love them a little, help them to understand that she wasn’t a bad person, that she hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. She closed her eyes. Perhaps he wouldn’t make her—
    “Let’s make a scarecrow!” Eddy, smelling of little boy and musty crackling grass jumped into her arms.
    “Let’s!”
    Eddy helped raid her laundry, looking for an old pair of pants and shirt they could stuff. She dragged out a tattered lawn chair from the garage for their creation.
    They studied the figure slumped in the chair.
    The child unconsciously copied her usual thinking pose: right leg forward, elbows bent, and hand covering chin and mouth. “He needs a head. My ball!” Eddy raced into the playhouse where they