Free The Fragrance of Geraniums (A Time of Grace Book 1) by Alicia G. Ruggieri Page B

steadily she didn’t think they’d ever stop. Why? Why
would he do this? To Mama? To us? Have we done something so awful, so bad that
he needs something else, that it’s right for him to bring this woman here?
    And no answer
came. The tears continued to flow, Grace as helpless to stop them as she was to
dam the breakage in her home, to mend Mama’s surely-bleeding heart, to make
Papa into a real father. No hope, she thought numbly, digging her
fingernails into the white-painted windowsill, watching as her tears splattered
there. There is no hope.
    After many long
minutes, Grace ceased weeping, having nothing left to cry, and what was worse,
knowing no one cared whether she shed tears or not. No catharsis awaited her,
but rather a raw, empty ache. She drew the curtains shut, still allowing the
warm September breeze to make its way into the room.
    She turned off
the dim lamp on the desk all three sisters shared. In their bureau’s bottom
drawer, Grace fished around in the dark until she found her old-fashioned white
cotton nightgown, so unlike Lou and Nancy’s silky and skimpy nightwear. She
removed today’s clothing and laid it over the desk chair, so that it would be
ready for tomorrow, relatively unwrinkled. As she arranged her cardigan, she
saw a sheet of white paper sticking out of one of her books. Frowning, Grace
pulled it out, holding it in the moonlight to see what it was.
    The permission
slip. She’d meant to ask Mama to sign it, but with everything that had
happened, Grace had forgotten completely. She bit her lip, thinking. Mr. Kinner
had wanted that permission slip back as soon as possible. The special choir
would start to rehearse later this week. I can’t ask Mama about it now that
Papa has gone and done this. Her mother had too much to worry about without
Grace complicating their family life even more. With a sigh, Grace tossed the
permission slip into the waste paper basket, letting it fall next to the pencil
shavings.
    But, wait. Mama
had pretty much said yes when Ben had asked her if Grace could join Mr.
Kinner’s special choir. She’d never really denied Ben anything he’d wanted in
earnest. Grace’s eyes lighted on the pencil near her schoolbooks. Not daring to
let herself think, she flattened the slip of paper on the desk and picked up
the pencil, sharpened just enough for the job. With a quick, flowing hand, Grace
scratched out her mother’s signature. And – relief of reliefs – she felt a
guilty courage course through her heart.

CHAPTER TEN
     
    T he soft knock
came just after school the next day. Geoff didn’t turn from erasing the stray
marks on the blackboard. “Come in,” he called, trying to keep up the effort
he’d made all day: to give his voice its usual upbeat sound. “Be right with
you,” he continued as he heard the classroom door open and click shut quietly.
With a few brisk strokes, he finished up and turned, ready with a brave smile.
    The Picoletti
girl stood there, silent and grave as always. Her guarded eyes turned to the
clock, then back to him. Geoff smiled again to put her at her ease. “Did you
need something, Miss Picoletti?” he asked.
    The student
nodded. Wordlessly, she opened one of the textbooks she carried and drew out a
sheet of paper. Geoff recognized it as the permission slip for the choir. “Wonderful!”
he exclaimed with a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. “You’ve got it signed?”
    The girl
hesitated for a brief moment and then nodded. She held the paper out to him. He
saw callouses marking the bird-like hand, signs of repetitive hard labor, and
he looked into her face for just a moment. There, he found other marks of
difficulty, yet of a different kind.
    “Thank you, Miss
Picoletti,” Geoff said, more gently, as he took the paper, running his eyes
over the signature briefly. “We start practice this Friday after school.
Attendance is mandatory at all rehearsals.” He waited for her agreement and
received a short, unsmiling nod. “Alright,